Sad News about Tanya Angus, Acromegaly Sufferer

I've been out of the world for a little while thanks to my surgery, so I was saddened to find out only today that Tanya Angus, an acromegaly sufferer, passed away on the 14th January. She was aged just 34, and died from heart failure and transient ischaemic attack (a "mini-stroke").

Tanya Angus had one of the most severe cases of acromegaly (a.k.a. gigantism) ever seen; it was not until her pituitary adenoma (tumour) grew to the size of a grapefruit that she was finally diagnosed. By this time, the tumour wrapped around her pituitary gland proved extremely resistant to surgical and radiotherapy treatment. Her condition caused her to grow from 5'8" at the age of 21 to 7ft tall by the time of her death, and to go from 130 to 400lbs. Just last August it seemed that injections to inhibit her growth hormone production had been successful, but by October sadly her levels of growth hormone were rising once again.

She was a well-known figure in the acromegaly community for her efforts to raise awareness of the condition, and to encourage education about and early detection of gigantism among the medical profession. Anyone reading her website, or the comments sections of the various news websites which reported her death, can't fail to notice how many of her fellow acromegaly sufferers viewed her as an inspiration.

Growth Hormone and Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease

It's National Pituitary Awareness Month, and I thought I should look for an interesting pituitary-related story to tell you all. As it turned out, I didn't have to look too far.

 Most people living in Britain today will remember the 1996 scare about "mad cow disease" or BSE (in cows the disease is called Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy; when it's passed to humans it's variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease or vCJD). It’s an extremely nasty degenerative brain disease, invariably fatal, and there was huge concern that beef contaminated with the disease had been in the food chain for some time. The illness can have a latency period of up to ten years before symptoms appear (or much, much longer according to some researchers), making it very difficult to trace the cause of the illness - and meaning that no-one has any definite idea how many people could have been infected. As of October 2009, there had been 166 identified cases of the illness in the UK.

Beware! This could be a mad cow.

It was a huge scandal in the UK, and I remember as a child being disappointed that I wasn't allowed to eat roast beef for what felt like a very long time - although admittedly this was less because I loved roast beef and more because I loved the accompanying Yorkshire pudding my mum served with it. But until recently I was not aware of a similar, albeit smaller-scale scandal that had occurred several years earlier.

Between 1963 and 1985, the US Government funded a programme which provided human growth hormone to children across the US who had failed to grow as expected. Failure to grow in children is sometimes due to a deficiency in growth hormone (surprise!) and this is still a treatment for children today; the difference is that these days it's made in a lab, while at that time it was extracted directly from the pituitary glands of human cadavers.

In 1985, it came to light that three of the people treated with human growth hormone (hGH) had gone on to die of Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. This is not the same illness as vCJD but it is similar - and it's very, very rare. The programme was stopped immediately and an investigation launched.

To date, 29 of the people treated with hGH in the US before 1977 have been diagnosed with CJD. That's about one in 95. The rates were much higher in some other countries; in the UK, which produced its own hGH, 64 of the 1849 people treated developed CJD; and in France, which also produced its own hGH, 119 out of 1700 patients went on to develop the disease. There have been cases reported in numerous other countries; the variation in incidence is likely due to the variation in the way the hormone was extracted and processed.

 The longest latency period recorded between someone receiving human Growth Hormone and going on to develop CJD is 38 years. The shortest period before developing symptoms with these kind of diseases is usually around 2 - 3 years. The symptoms progress very quickly, within just a few months, from dizziness, difficulty balancing and clumsiness to memory loss, seizures and death.

Most disturbingly of all, however, it later came to light that far more of the patients who had been treated with hGH went on to die of adrenal crisis - an entirely treatable problem - than of CJD. This problem isn't caused by the hGH treatment, it's simply the case that people with a growth hormone deficiency are more likely to also be deficient in other pituitary hormones, such as ACTH. Without sufficient ACTH, you will die - but safe and effective hormone replacement is available for people whose bodies don't produce enough ACTH. It's simply that their doctors failed to pick up on the fact that these people were ACTH-deficient until it was too late.

An Open-Source Cure?

Kudos to my lovely boyfriend for this very interesting link to a website created by an Italian man with brain cancer, who requested copies of his medical files from his hospital  in order to send to other hospitals and doctors for their opinions, only to find that they were in proprietary formats which he could not open on his computer. Being computer savvy, he managed to convert them into open formats so that he can share his information with everyone, online. And he's posted them on his website.

It might sound weird, this idea of posting medical records online, when these are documents that we're used to treating with the utmost confidentiality, but already he has had responses from doctors - and the idea is that everyone is encouraged to use the data to create a cure, whether that's a doctor suggesting treatment, an artist creating artworks, videos, poems... you name it. Other people with similar conditions can send in their own data, if they wish, to be added to the site.

The author of the website had some very interesting thoughts about how the way in which his data is treated parallels the way in which his disease has been treated:

"The data formats which I was "forced" to hack is in a peculiar state of harmony with the common definition of "disease/illness".

The definition of "diseases" is "reserved" to doctors. Often using words which we don't understand and, most important of all, touching only a part of the human condition, which is made from body, but also of spirit and sociality.

The DICOM format is open, yes, but in a very "peculiar" condition of openness: it is like the openness of the words which they use to tell you about your health condition, and with which they descrive and actuate their version of the "cure": you can't understand it, you can't reuse it, you can't combine it with other possibilities. It is thought for "experts" and "professionals" (of one single type), leaving little space for other possibilites for expression and socialization."

It's interesting to consider the possibility that the sacred doctrine of doctor-patient confidentiality may, in some cases, end up mitigating against patients having the ability to take charge of their own healthcare, or seek the widest possible range of medical opinions on their condition. Now that so many hospital systems and even procedures are digitised, there's clearly a balance to be struck between protecting patients' private information, and making it so inacessible that patients are unable to view their own data.

Historically, medical education and knowledge has been very much the preserve of the privileged few, and patients weren't necessarily expected to understand their own conditions. With the rise of the internet, it's so much easier for patients to be informed about their own illness - some might say too easy - and thus it seems terribly ironic that the same medium enabling greater patient choice and freedom should simultaneously be creating new and unwelcome restrictions on their ability to use their own data in whatever way they desire.

Posting your medical records on the internet for all to see may not be everyone's cup of tea. But it should still be an option if that's what you want to do.

Check it out: http://artisopensource.net/cure/

The Sound of Striped Hooves

Around a year or so ago, an interesting thing happened to me. I was in the car with my mother, we were driving down the motorway, and there was a car pulling a horsebox in front of us. We were going rather faster than the horsebox, and as we passed it, I looked inside and saw… a zebra. It was only a glimpse and it confused the hell out of me for a moment, but I am still sure it was a zebra, not a horse, inside that horsebox.* At first I was slightly worried I might be going mad, but my mother pointed out that there are plenty of zoos and animal parks around the place and presumably they must transport their zebras somehow.

Folk of a medical persuasion will probably see where I am going with this, but I promise it is an entirely true story, the proof of which is that it took months and months for it to occur to me that I could use it on this blog. What can I say? I am slow.

Healthy people are probably wondering why I am blathering about hoofed african mammals instead of my usual cheery chat about tumours, but fret not. All shall be revealed.

A zebra is, as Wikipedia (and, I believe, Scrubs) so nobly tells us, the medical term for a surprising diagnosis, which rather begs the question of what we should call those stripey ponies running around in nature documentaries. It comes from the aphorism that when you hear hoofbeats behind you, you don't expect to see a zebra. This is a wise observation which is totally inapplicable to anyone who lives in the African plains, but as it was coined by an American doctor in the 1940s, this oversight may perhaps be forgiven. The point is that when a doctor is presented with a set of symptoms which may be caused by a common illness or an uncommon one, the logical assumption should be that the patient most likely has the more common illness - even though there may be a temptation to go with the more dramatic diagnosis.

I have noticed this idea of being a medical zebra popping up in a few blogs by other people with rare pituitary tumours, particularly in those with Cushing's disease - possibly this is related to the fact that one of the symptoms of Cushing's is the development of dramatic stretchmarks of a stripey and thus zebra-like nature. A few further examples - here, here and here.

A group of Cushing's sufferers at a recent conference.

I guess I count as a medical zebra myself; my symptoms of hyperthyroidism such as tachycardia, hair loss and frenzied blogging** would normally be considered as indicating Graves disease or something - and even when the more common thyroid malfunctions were ruled out, it was considered more likely that I had a condition called Resistance to Thyroid Hormone than thyrotropinoma. But no, my body had picked the most unusual way it could think of to break down, and I was neither a horse, nor a pony, deer, mule, donkey, nor any one of a number of hoofed creatures which are more common in the UK than zebras.

Neighbours of Lord Rothschild may not only have expected to see zebras when they heard the sound of hoofbeats, but also had to leap out of their way.

Medical zebras are a tricky subject, on the whole, and there's obviously a balance to be struck. While it can be frustrating for those of us with unusual conditions to think that we waited a long time for a diagnosis, it would be far worse if doctors went around ignoring common diagnoses in favour of the weird ones. Equally though, doctors should be aware that just because something's weird and unusual doesn't mean it's not sitting in front of you - as anyone who's come face-to-face with Boris Johnson could tell you.

It's enough to make you wonder how rare your condition would have to be before you were considered a medical okapi...

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*Unless someone had painted a horse to look like a zebra. Which would be a pretty weird thing to do.

**Hint: one of these is not actually a symptom.

Girl with Acromegaly Sues NHS

A story broke some time ago about a young lady with acromegaly who sued the NHS, and won. I've been meaning to write about her for a while but I wanted to take the time to create an interesting and informative post contrasting her case with that of Kane Gorny. Alas, I have not had the time, so you'll just have to deal with a dull and uninformative post instead. Hurrah!

The story is this: Kate Woodward, an aspiring actress, developed acromegaly (i.e. a pituitary tumour secreting growth hormone, which lead to uncontrolled growth of her body) as a child, which went untreated between 2001 and 2005 as medics failed to spot the condition. She attained a final height of 6'5" aged 20, and sued the NHS for £2 million. She was awarded compensation of £1.3m.

Incidentally, the award for "least sensitive headline about this story" goes to Healthcare Today UK, which went with "Freak Growth Woman Sues NHS".*

Nice.

Her case for being awarded this level of compensation was that, as a result of her condition being untreated for so long:

- Her height and "ugliness" meant that she could no longer go into a career as an actress.
- She has psychological difficulties and feels like a "freak" because of her condition.
- She has significant problems with her bones, knees and teeth, and cannot buy normal-sized clothes.
- The condition affected her childhood, schooling and friendships.

And, most significantly:

- She wishes to receive all future treatment in the private sector.

Now, not long after this story was first brought to my attention (by a colleague, thank you!) I noticed that it had also popped up as a topic of discussion on the Pituitary Foundation's forum. For those of you who don't subscribe, one member created a poll entited something like "Should Kate Woodward be ashamed of herself?" The results of the poll were overwhelmingly that she should (although in fairness by "overwhelmingly", I mean "there were four votes in total").

Why the anger? Surely she has a fairly good case, right? Undoubtedly, when a doctor is presented with a girl who measured 5'9" at just eleven years old and keeps growing, you'd hope that it wouldn't take four years to just Google it and think "hmm, maybe we should rule out acromegaly". Although we can't know that faster treatment would have effected a cure, it might have controlled or reduced the symptoms. She will have to live with injections and monitoring and joint problems and feeling self-conscious for her whole life.

BUT.

The problem is that this is not, actually, an unusual case - at least, not within the magical world of pituitary tumours. If every person with acromegaly decided to sue the NHS for delayed diagnosis, it would be one hell of a bonus day for lawyers. If you threw in people with other often-missed pituitary conditions like Cushing's Disease and TSHoma, it would probably result in a sudden UK lawyer shortage as they all retired to small Caribbean islands. If you based the level of compensation awarded on the number of years the condition went undiagnosed, the small Caribbean islands would probably reinvent themselves as world financial hubs.

I exagerate. But the mean length of time from onset of symptoms to diagnosis of acromegaly is, according to this MedScape article, around 12 years. Even if that estimate is too high, the point is that pituitary tumour conditions can be hard to diagnose, and they are often missed because they're rare enough that doctors don't see them often, and often don't expect to see them either. Four years to diagnose a patient with acromegaly is, sadly, not uncommon. I first showed symptoms of my TSH-secreting pituitary tumour aged 17, and I didn't get a diagnosis until I was 22. (In case you're bad at maths, that's five years). Even after my superfast heartrate made it clear that Something Was Wrong, it took a year to work out what that something was.

So if there's a slight lack of sympathy from other acromegalomaniacs,** it could be because they're thinking "Damn, £2m! Wish I'd thought of that."

 But I doubt it.  And I'm not just saying that because they're bigger than me.***

Now I want to note right off the bat that where there is evidence of medical negligence or it takes a long time to get a diagnosis, you should complain. Vociferously. You should complain in the hope that procedures can be improved. Otherwise there's nothing to stop future patients from suffering through the same tortuous process to find out what's wrong with them. But there's a difference between seeing a problem, taking a complaint as far as necessary to fix that problem for future patients, and just suing to get as much as you can out of them. Through the normal complaints process, the hospital in question offered Miss Woodward compensation of £700k, no court appearance required. If she lives to the age of 90, that would be £10,000 medical expenses covered every year. Additionally, according to the Daily Mail, which I personally take with a pinch of salt and under the supervision of a doctor, the hospital trust had already spent £288,000 on Miss Woodward for "treatment, dental care, holidays and special footwear".

Even the £500k difference between what she was offered and what the court awarded is a big chunk of money. £500k that could have gone towards treating other patients. I need somatostatin analogue injections (probably much like those Miss Woodward takes), and if you've been reading this blog lately, you'll know that it is proving slightly tricky to persuade someone to fund them. £500k could pay for 666-and-a-bit doses of those injections. Which doesn't sound like that much, until you realise that each dose lasts for a month, so £500k worth of injections would last me for fifty-five years. And six months. Assuming I needed them continuously. And of course by that point I would be 79-and-a-half, so chances are I could be dead by then anyway.

 And here's the thing. If the NHS messes up and, as a result, you end up incurring further costs in your daily life (eg. you're a professional tap dancer going into hospital for an appendectomy, and you wake up with a leg missing) then yep, you should get compensation and if they won't agree to pay it, sue them with my blessing and encouragement. If the clinical negligence of your child at birth leads to brain damage which will affect that child for their entire life, then sue for the money needed to support them. And if/when the NHS messes up so badly that it becomes a danger to other patients, and you follow through that complaints process and nothing changes, sue them until they sit up and pay attention and mend their ways.

 But I am somewhat uncomfortable with suing the NHS for the loss of a career that did not yet exist, and for the costs of having exactly the same treatment as the NHS provides, but done privately. (I'm also intrigued by the concept, since she presumably did not have private health insurance before diagnosis and consequently insurers would be unlikely to cover her pre-existing condition?).  I've had an MRI scan done by a private provider and done by the NHS and the experience was almost exactly the same - except the private hospital was a lot harder to get to on public transport.

I guess in some way I think that when the NHS messes up, part of the compensation is the NHS. The very fact that you live in a country where you don't have to worry about the cost of healthcare means that when the NHS makes a mistake, it - not you - ends up bearing any increased costs of your care as a result of its mistake. Perhaps in some countries when a patient gets a hospital-acquired infection, their bill from the hospital is increased - but in the UK, if a hospital gives you an infection, it has to foot the bill to try and fix it.

But it also means that when you sue an NHS hospital in the UK, you're not taking lobster off the table of a fat cat investor (well... not yet... comments about Mr Lansley on a postcard, please). You are taking money away from that hospital. Any sensible hospital trust will have a big old stash of contingency fund to cover the cost of lawsuits, but I still confess I'm uncomfortable with the idea of suing the NHS for anything less than an ironclad reason, because that money could be put to better use. It could be used to help treat someone just like you.

I don't think Kate Woodward is a bad person, and I don't think she should be ashamed of herself. I simply don't have sufficient details to form an opinion on this case, and she may well be entirely justified. But she sparks off an interesting debate. That's my opinion. What's yours?

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*I noticed Jon Danzig, a journalist with acromegaly, took them to task for this in the comments section of the article, good on him!

** I don't know what the collective noun for "a group of people with acromegaly" is, but it should really be this.

***Common misconception: people with acromegaly only become very tall if the condition develops during childhood/adolescence. If it develops in adulthood, it will lead to bone and soft tissue growth but usually won't increase height much, if at all.

Hyperthyroid Patients, Unite!

Subtitle: You have nothing to lose but your goitres!

So here's the strange thing: I have a TSHoma - a pituitary tumour which secretes TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone). It's super rare. According to my endocrinologist there are maybe thirteen or so other people in the UK with this condition which, in a population of 63 million, is Not Very Many, although it probably does go largely underdiagnosed; I had my first symptoms when I was around 16 or 17 and didn't get a diagnosis until I was 22.

But anyway, the point is that it can sometimes almost feel like two separate conditions; I have the pituitary adenoma, and the hyperthyroidism it causes. My symptoms, apart from the odd nasty headache, are pretty much exclusively those of hyperthyroidism; my treatment is for the adenoma. Consequently, although I am in all seriousness a paid-up member of the Pituitary Foundation and can chat about transsphenoidal surgery and lanreotide injections with the best of them, I'm missing out on the chance to bitch and moan about sinus tachycardia and getting the shakes with other people whose blood has turned to delicious thyroid hormone stew. More fool me!

People with excess thyroid hormone usually get that way from either a) taking too high a dose of thyroxine medication (exogenous thyrotoxicosis), or b) something else. The former can be dealt with simply by reducing the dose. The latter is more complicated. Possible causes include:

Graves Disease - the most common cause of hyperthyroidism, Graves is an autoimmune disease which can be treated with anithyroid drugs, surgery to remove part or all of the thyroid, or a dose of radiactive iodine. After such treatment there's a substantial and ironic risk of hypothyroidism - i.e. not having enough thyroid hormone.

Tumours of the thyroid gland - thyroid adenoma is a benign tumour of the thyroid gland which may secrete large amounts of thyroid hormone, while thyroid nodules may be benign or malignant and again may or may not release thyroid hormone - in some cases they may actually inhibit its production, causing hypothyroidism.

Thyroiditis - inflammation of the thyroid gland. Although this often initially leads to high levels of thyroid hormone being released, it usually progresses to thyroid disfunction with the gland unable to produce sufficient hormones, and ultimately causes hypothyroidism. Around 7% of women experience temporary thyroiditis after giving birth (postpartum thyroiditis) which may lead to hyper- or hypothyroidism, or both; this usually resolves itself.

TSH hypersecretion - super rare, but usually caused by a pituitary adenoma (hurrah!). However, I believe there is also the possibility of a tumour in the hypothalamus causing excess Thyrotropin Releasing Hormone and hyperstimulating the pituitary gland to overproduce TSH, which in turn would hyperstimulate the thyroid gland to overproduce thyroid hormone. Again, it's very rare.

I guess really I should be grateful for this, as effectively I have two health conditions for the price of one. This blog is usually focussed mainly around the dramatic "there's a tumour in my head!" aspects of my pituitary adenoma, and poor little hyperthyroidism barely gets a look in, except for when I complain about my tachycardia/hair falling out/absurd appetite issues. But no longer! From now on I vow to go on about hyperthyroidism more. So you guys will get two lots of whingeing for the price of one!

IMFW: Signed In Blood

Exciting news recently about a new test to identify people's blood groups, which was allegedly inspired by Voldemort's evil self-writing diary in the Harry Potter books. When a blood sample is applied to the paper, it actually spells out the person's ABO and Rhesus blood groups, the idea being that this is far more user-friendly and should reduce misinterpretations of blood group compared to the existing tests.



Warning: side effects may include possession by the Dark Lord.



Happy Rare Disease Day 2012!

Happy Rare Disease Day 2012! Yes, it's that jolly time of the year again, when families across the globe gather together to celebrate the myriad exciting ways in which the human body can baffle trained physicians. This year is extra special, as the fifth international Rare Disease Day falls on the 29th February, the rarest calendar date of them all. The event focuses on extending solidarity, both between patients with different rare diseases, and with society at large.

I already have a rare disease (in fact, I technically have two: TSH-oma, and hypermobility syndrome, which is now classified as a subtype of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. But although my hypermobility causes joint pain, it also gives me nice soft skin, so I guess you have to take the rough with the unusually smooth). I am aware, however, that many of my more healthy readers may be feeling a little left out of the rare disease jamboree today.  Most rare diseases are genetic - and it's very difficult to know in advance whether you're harbouring the kind of genetic anomaly which will allow you to get better aquainted with the medical profession. So, in the interests of this year's Solidarity theme, and in case you really are that desperate to join in, I have prepared a list of my top four rare diseases that you don't need mad genes to develop. All you have to do is pick one, and get infected:

Top 4 Rare Non-Genetic Diseases

1. The Bubonic Plague
In the West, bubonic plague is now extremely rare, although the plague killed millions in the Middle Ages. Globally there are about 1000-3000 cases reported by the WHO every year. Modern antibiotics are an effective treatment if administered quickly.
Upside: This one has a pleasingly retro feel. There's nothing like walking into a conference of medieval scholars and announcing you've survived the Black Death.
Downside: Gangrene of the extremities, seizures, vomiting blood and extreme pain.
Will I die? Mortality is 1-15% in treated cases. In untreated cases, it can be up to 90%.
How do I catch it? Usually through being bitten by an infected flea.

2. Guinea Worm Disease (Dracunculiasis)
Warning: this disease is available for a limited time only.
A global eradication effort began in 1980. In 1986, guinea worm was endemic in 20 countries, with 3.5 million cases across the world every year. In 2011 only four countries were still endemic for guinea worm disease, with 1,060 cases globally.
Upside: If you time it right, you could be one of the last people in the world to have dracunculiasis. And there's got to be a certain number of TV interviews in that.
Downside: After catching it, guinea worm has an incubation period of a year before the worm starts to travel down through the leg, causing immense amounts of burning pain, fever, nausea and monitoring. It then emerges from the skin. There's no treatment and the only way to remove the metre-long worm is to wrap the live worm around a stick and slowly wind it out - a process which can take months. And frankly: eew.
Will I die? Unlikely. Risks are that the wound where the worm emerges may become infected, or if the worm is broken as it's being pulled out of the skin, it may putrefy inside the limb.
How do I catch it? Drink water contaminated by water fleas which are host to guinea worm larvae - still available in South Sudan, Ethiopia, Chad, and Mali!

3. Kuru (Laughing Sickness)
The last known sufferer of kuru died in 2005, so catching this one may be tricky. Kuru was an epidemic amongst the Fore tribe of Papua New Guinea, due to their cannibalistic funeral practices, but unknown elsewhere. It's believed that the disease originated with an individual who spontaneously developed Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, a degenerative neurological disease caused by proteins called prions. When his or her body was consumed after death, the disease spread amongst the Fore, and there was a continuous cycle of new infections as sufferers were eaten after dying from the illness. Once cannibalism stopped, the disease began to die out, but because it can have a very long incubation period, new cases cropped up every now and again until 2005.
Upside: The last known sufferer died in 2005. A new patient would be a medical celebrity.
Downside: Everyone would know you're a cannibal. Oh, and you would slowly completely lose control of your body, develop severe tremors and emotional instability, become unable to speak or swallow, become incontinent, and acquire sores and necrotic ulcers.
Will I die? Yes. There is no cure. The good news is that you may have an incubation period of up to 40 years before symptoms develop. The bad news is that you will die about a year after that.
How do I catch it? You need to eat part of the body of someone with the disease (preferably the brain, if you can get it), or allow broken skin to come into contact with the blood or brain matter. Or you could inject yourself with it. But where's the fun in that?

4. Brain-eating Amoeba (Naegleria fowleri)
This is a nasty little unicellular parasite which is actually pretty common in warm, stagnant freshwater worldwide, but can invade the central nervous system via the nose, and then into the brain where it causes primary amoebic meningoencaphalitis.
Upside: You'd definitely make it into the local paper. Only 300 confirmed cases had ever been recorded in the medical literature by 2008.
Downside: Headache, vomiting, delirium, seizures and irreversible coma.
Will I die? Almost certainly. As of 2008 the in-hospital case fatality rate was 97%.
How do I catch it? Your best bet is swimming in infected water, or preferably by using a neti pot; weirdly, water that is safe to drink may not be safe to irrigate your nose with. But remember: the brain-eating amoeba has to get a long way up inside your nose before there's a chance of infection, so if at first you don't succeed, try again.

For more information on rare diseases in the UK: http://www.raredisease.org.uk/

Get Ready for Rare Disease Day 2012

Rare Disease Day 2012 is tomorrow, the 29th February, and I hope you're all as excited as I am. Yay, diseases!

The definition of a rare disease in Europe is a disease with an incidence of fewer than one in two thousand people. There are thousands of rare diseases, and although each disease is individually rare, taken collectively rare diseases affect 6% of people in Europe and account for 20% of healthcare costs. Rare Disease Day aims to raise awareness of the problem of rare diseases, and the fact that research into treatment of these kinds of diseases tends to be significantly underfunded.

For more information, check out the Rare Disease Day 2012 website, or infect yourself with an unusual pathogen!

IMFW: Turned Into Bone

This week's IMFW is about an extremely rare and extremely curious genetic illness: fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva. In this disease, fibrous tissue such as muscle, tendons and ligaments are ossified - literally turned into bone - when damaged.

As you can imagine, the illness causes severe disability, with sufferers becoming slowly trapped inside immovable sheets of bone; new growths of bone often join up with the main skeleton. Bone growths may leave patients unable to eat, speak, sit down or even breathe as the growing bones compress the lungs. Attempts to remove the excess bone usually only results in further growth, because any injury (such as surgery) to fibrous tissue is liable to result in ossification of that tissue. The notable early symptom of this illness is that babies with the genetic mutation which causes fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva are usually born with deformed big toes; however, the illness is so rare that sufferers are often misdiagnosed, and the bone growths taken to be cancerous tumours.

One notable sufferer was Harry Eastlack, who died before his fortieth birthday and bequeathed his skeleton to medical science. You can see a photograph of it here.

Although the genetic mutation which causes this condition has been identified, there is no cure and no real treatment.

Acromegaly: A Monstrous Illness?

Last week I wrote about the first of two websites which got me thinking about acromegaly, and I've been thinking away all weekend. The second thought-provoker was this post, on a blog about horror films, which mentions the little-known 1944 film The Monster Maker. Why is this film of interest? Because the plot centres around acromegaly. Kind of. Let's just say that The Monster Maker is to acromegaly as The Core is to science.

Brief disclaimer: I haven't watched this film, just read about it. But here's a rough synopsis; I can't imagine anyone's too worried about spoilers for a film that came out almost seventy years ago.

We start with one mad scientist, Dr. Igor Markoff.* Years previously, he injected his wife with the "acromegaly virus" for the rather melodramatic reason that he wants to disfigure her so that no other men would want her. Consequently, she committed suicide. In the present, he comes across Patricia, the daughter of a famous pianist, who just happens to look exactly like his dead wife. Before she developed acromegaly, presumably.

But Patricia isn't interested in Markoff's subtle advances.** So obviously, the logical course of action is for Markoff to infect her father with the "acromegaly virus" as well, and then use the prospect of a possible cure to blackmail him into getting her to marry Markoff. The ending of the film seems somewhat confused, but by all accounts it appears to involve a man in a gorilla suit. Because... well, why the hell not?

Leaving aside the dodgy science, and indeed the gorilla, this film sounds interesting. Patricia's father, Anthony Lawrence, becomes sick and deformed, taking on the appearance of a monster thanks to some serious effort on behalf of the makeup department; Igor Markoff looks entirely normal, except for his trademark I'm-an-evil-genius goatee. Lawrence's appearance inspires fear in the viewer; Markoff is the real monster. The moral of the story is so crushingly obvious that a child could pick up on it, although these days most children would probably be complaining that the film isn't scary enough - and besides, it's in black and white! What's that about? And why didn't they just CGI the gorilla? Seriously, WTF.

But people who suffer from disfiguring diseases like acromegaly and Cushing's Disease in real life don't have the advantage of B-movie actors and low budget sets to ram this point home to every stranger they run across in their daily life.

Acromegaly sufferers often experience discrimination because of their appearance. In advanced cases, as well as facial deformity and increased height, massive growth of soft tissues may give the impression of being overweight. The resultant discrimination can be particularly bad for women; activist Tanya Angus has spoken about how she's treated differently since developing the condition.

 Similarly, in Cushing's Disease, a pituitary tumour causes sufferers to put on weight, often to the point of obesity. Not for nothing has it been called "the Ugly Disease". But strangers don't know that; most people are likely to think that a person is overweight due to greed. To quote a Ricky Gervais joke "We all eat too much in the West. But it's people who say it's glandular, isn't it? It's not glandular, it's greed". Well, sometimes... it is glandular. It's pituitary glandular, it's adrenal glandular, it's thyroid glandular. Glands can seriously screw you over, as I have learned. It's difficult enough being diagnosed with a serious, hard-to-treat illness which causes physical pain and makes you fat and destroys your self-esteem. But to also have to put up with abuse from complete strangers who refuse to believe you're even ill must be horrific. And because Cushing's usually takes a long time to diagnose, sufferers often go years believing that it's their fault that they're putting on so much weight, even though they're eating healthily and exercising well.

These are problems that need to be addressed. It's bizarre that while it's now (happily) seen as unacceptable to discriminate against people on the grounds of race, gender or sexuality, discriminating against people who are overweight, and making assumptions about their medical conditions, seems to be ok.

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*N.B. that it's very important for mad scientists to have vaguely foreign-sounding names.

**He sends her flowers every single day, filled with creepy notes and messages. Oh, and he watches her continually. No matter what Twilight's told you, boys, stalking is not a romantic way to woo a lady.

IMFW: Schistosomiasis/Bilharzia

In today's installment of Interesting Medical Fact of the Week, we're going to be looking at schistosomiasis, also known as bilharzia, bilharziosis or snail fever. Never heard of it? After malaria, schistosomiasis is the second most devastating parasitic disease in tropical countries, and yet it can be controlled and easily treated with just one dose of a medication called praziquantel. One dose of praziquantel costs 18 US cents - that's about eleven pence. In the West, it's mainly used as a dewormer for cats and dogs.

Schistosomiasis is a disease caused by parasitic worms called schistosomes, which are carried by freshwater snails and then release larvae into the water. The larvae may then infect people when the water comes into contact with human skin; for example through swimming or washing. These parasitic worms then live in the veins near the bladder or intestines, laying eggs which can seriously damage the intestines, liver, bladder, and lungs. The eggs are then excreted, and will hatch in freshwater where they go on to infect new freshwater snail hosts. And so, the cycle continues.

Over 200 million people are estimated to be infected with this disease, of whom about 20 million will suffer severe consequences. Schistosomiasis is a chronic disease, and as such doesn't usually kill, but rather weakens the sufferer and leads to long-term ill-health; nevertheless, the WHO cites statistics suggesting that over 200,000 deaths per year are due to schistosomiasis in sub-Saharan Africa alone. In populations which are particularly vulnerable to malnutrition or dehydration, it is more likely to be a killer disease.
Symptoms of chronic bilharzia usually develop one to two months after the initial infection, and include fatigue, kidney and liver disease, bloody urine, bladder dysfunction, and diarrhea; there is also an increased risk of bowel cancer in infected persons, and the illness weakens the body's resistance to other infections. There is also an acute form of schistosomiasis, however, also known as katayama fever, which presents with a fever, muscle ache, liver enlargement, lymph node enlargement, abdominal pain, breathing difficulties, diarrhea and painful urination. In many cases, people infected with schistosomiasis may be largely asymptomatic except for fatigue.

It's an illness which westerners only tend to come into contact with on backpacking holidays and is most prevalent in sub-Saharan Africa, China, Brazil, the Middle East, the Caribbean and Southeast Asia. About half of all people who have swum in Lake Malawi test positive for schistosomiasis, yet many travellers are completely unaware that they may be putting themselves at risk of this disease by swimming or wading in freshwater. Every year, there are around 100 cases of the disease diagnosed in England, Wales and Northern Ireland among people who have travelled abroad.

There is no vaccine for schistosomiasis, and the main aim of disease prevention efforts is to eliminate the snails which act as hosts for the parasite. Various techniques have been used to this end, including treatment of water with copper sulphate, niclosamide, gopo berry, and the introduction of (or augmentation of existing populations of) freshwater crayfish. The tragedy of this disease is that many vast irrigation and dam schemes have been built in Africa and elsewhere which have contributed to the spread of the disease, despite the fact that UN guidance was available from the 1950s onwards, detailing how such schemes could be built to minimize the problem and make it difficult for snails to colonize the water.

IMFW: "Excited Delirium"?

Today's Interesting Medical Fact of the week is about a medical condition that may or may not, in fact, exist. Wikipedia defines "excited delirium" as "a condition that manifests as a combination of delirium, psychomotor agitation, anxiety, hallucinations, speech disturbances, disorientation, violent and bizarre behavior, insensitivity to pain, elevated body temperature, and superhuman strength." Never heard of it? Neither had I.

Excited delirium is not  recognised as a cause of death by the Department of Health or the World Heath Organisation. It has become an extremely controversial topic in the UK recently, due to the death of Jacob Michael, a 25 year old man who died last year in police custody. The Home Office pathologist found that he died of excited delirium; Michael's parents disagree, arguing that the pathologist ignored the effects of heavy police restraint on their son.

Excited delirium has been cited as a cause of death in a number of death-in-custody cases in the UK, and more in the US; it started turning up in pathology reports in the 1980s. Many of the people who are reported to have died of excited delirium have cocaine or other drugs in their system, and it's been variously suggested that their death is due to excessive adrenaline or organ failure due to a massive spike in body temperature, with the risk of death being increased by pre-existing conditions.  But  Eric Balaban of the American Civil Liberties Union suggested that the diagnosis of excited delirium is used "as a means of white-washing what may be excessive use of force and inappropriate use of control techniques by officers during an arrest", with most reported cases of the disorder found in people who have died in custody.

There may be an explanation for this; Dr Vincent Di Maio, a former chief medical examiner in Texas, suggested that it is the very act of resisting or fighting with police which tips sufferers over the edge, and that police then wrongly get the blame. Some doctors have said that deaths from police brutality are clearly distinguishable from those due to excited delirium, with the physical marks of brutality obvious; others have accused taser manufacturers of using the diagnosis to explain away the deaths of people who have been hit with tasers. It's pretty much a minefield of conflicting opinions.

But Balaban argues that the symptoms of excited delirium are simply the symptoms of mental illness, possibly exacerbated by drug use; and this article looks at other medical conditions which can look like excited delirium, listing delirium tremens (alcohol withdrawal), hyperthermia (severe overheating), severe low blood sugar in diabetes, traumatic brain injury, viral encephalitis and thyroid storm (massive hyperthyroidism often caused by very high stress). The article does not mention epilepsy, but in some cases epileptic fits can lead sufferers to become extremely disoriented and confused, and there are probably several other disorders which could give rise to symptoms similar to those of "excited delirium".

It's an interesting debate to follow, although as someone with little knowledge of either medicine or police work, I'm hardly qualified to draw any conclusions. There's also the issue that the question of excited delirium is twofold; some question whether it is a medical condition at all, whereas others merely question whether it's a medical condition which in itself would actually lead to death. I will follow the debate with interest.

The Silence of the Gland: Diagnosed

It's been a while since I wrote the last post about my previous attempts at diagnosis, so I decided to man up and get the heck on with it. Yeah! USA! USA!*

Obviously my tales of pituitary surgery will be the most enthralling/gross, but who knows, maybe the events leading up to surgery will also be of interest to someone. If worst comes to the worst and I develop dementia in my old age, I guess I can read all about my exciting earlier life!

LAST TIME ON PITUITARY ADEMOANER:

It had been determined that there was nothing wrong with my heart. My cardiologist ordered several blood tests and referred me to endocrinology.

This is where it gets dull and technical.

What I didn't know was that, up until that point, although I showed symptoms of hyperthyroidism, my doctors had only ordered blood tests which looked at my levels of thyroid-stimulating hormone, rather than the thyroid hormones themselves. TSH is produced by the pituitary, then it travels through the blood and spurs the thyroid gland to produce thyroid hormones. Usually, when hyperthyroidism is caused by a problem with the thyroid gland, you would expect the pituitary gland to produce only very low level of thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH), as the body is trying to suppress the overproduction of thyroid hormones. However, my TSH tests had always come back within the "normal range", so it was assumed that hyperthyroidism was not the problem.

Then a letter dropped through my door from one of the consultant endocrinologists at the hospital. It informed me that my blood test results were "very unusual", and that they suspected I may have a rare condition called resistance to thyroid hormone (RTH). I was called into the hospital for further tests.

At the hospital, I met the consultant who had written the letter. To this day, he possesses one of the finest moustaches I have ever seen. Whilst I sat wondering what kind of scissors he used to trim it so neatly across his upper lip, he informed me that resistance to thyroid hormone is a rare genetic condition, in which most or all of the body's tissues do not respond normally to thyroid hormone. In some people, there are few symptoms as the whole body is equally resistant to the hormone, resulting in high levels of thyroid hormone in the blood but few issues associated with this; in others, the pituitary is more resistant than other tissues to thyroid hormone, leading to some symptoms of hyperthyroidism.

My blood tests showed that I had normal levels of thyroid stimulating hormone, but high levels of thyroid hormones T3 and T4 in my blood - indicating that my pituitary was not responding normally to the high thyroid levels. I was told that the only other possibility was that I might have a tumour on my pituitary which was producing TSH, a.k.a. a TSH-oma, but that this was even more absurdly rare than resistance to thyroid hormone and it was much more likely to be RTH.

I had more complex blood tests at the hospital, and they even took DNA samples to look for the particular mutation. Everything came back negative. The moustachioed doctor's main area of interest was resistance to thyroid hormone, so he passed my case to a colleague specialising in pituitary issues; it was pretty much certain by then that I had a pituitary adenoma, they just needed an MRI to show the tumour. Which they did - and I've already written a post about the MRI, which you can read here.

I don't really remember the phone call from my endocrinologist informing me that I did indeed have a pituitary macroadenoma, measuring 23mm by 19mm by some other measurement which I've forgotten. By that point I had had a chance to get used to the idea that I had a pituitary tumour, so the phone call was really just official confirmation with additional details. But I do remember calling my mum to tell her the news; I walked home from work the long way, through one of the big parks nearby.

After that it was a bit of a whirl of activity. I got the news just before Christmas 2010 and as soon as I arrived back in town after New Year's, I had to arrange to start lanreotide injections to reduce the amount of TSH the tumour was producing. They wanted me to have injections for three months, then a transsphenoidal hypophysectomy (that's pituitary surgery to you and me) immediately afterwards. I had to spend a day in hospital so that they could check that my pituitary was still producing other hormones at a normal level and wasn't about to collapse due to a lack of adrenocorticotropic hormone or something. It all passed in a bit of a blur; the idea of surgery was definitely what most occupied my mind in the intervening months...

UPDATE: You can click here to read about my experience having an MRI scan, or click here to go back and read about my earlier experiences trying to get a diagnosis.
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*Or something...

IMFW: Aluminium Does What Now?

Today's Interesting Medical Fact of the Week is dedicated to my lovely boyfriend. No, he doesn't have a weird and unusual illness, or even just a particularly hilarious deformity - but he does have a deodorant made from Japanese sea minerals.

"What are Japanese sea minerals?" I said.
"I don't know," he said. "But it doesn't have aluminium in."
"Do deodorants normally have aluminium in?" I asked, exposing my ignorance.
"Yes," he said. "It gives you cancer."

At that point, my brain practically exploded and I resolved to investigate whether or not he was just winding me up. And thus, my next Interesting Medical Fact was born.

As it turns out, aluminium is a common ingredient in anti-perspirants rather than simply deodorants. But here's the thing: it can be absorbed through the skin, and it's been suggested that there may be a link between use of such products and the development of breast cancer. The short story is that there's no conclusive evidence for a link between antiperspirant use and breast cancer.

Looking at Wikipedia, though, it's not just cancer you have to be worried about if too much aluminium gets into your system. It's a neurotoxin, high levels of aluminium are present in the brains of many Alzheimer's patients - and one study linked the long-term use of antiperspirants containing aluminium with the accumulation of levels of alumium that may increase the risk of Alzheimer's disease. The good news, however, is that a causal relationship between aluminium and Alzheimer's has not been found.

Finally, the only concrete evidence for these antperspirants adversely affecting your health: renal dysfunction. No, aluminium doesn't cause it, but people with renal dysfunction are advised to consult their doctor before using deodorants which contain aluminium. Damaged kidneys cannot clear aluminium from your body as effectively, and thus patients with kidney failure may be at increased risk of building up potentially dangerous levels of aluminium in their systems.

Of course, the fact that no proof has yet been found doesn't mean that no proof will be found for a link between aluminium anti-perspirants and cancer or Alzheimers. But for the time being, they are officially considered safe.

Women With Acromegaly

After yesterday's post, I wanted to write about women with acromegaly,* as pretty much all of the pituitary adenoma sufferers I've identified so far have been men. In terms of acromegaly, I suppose that great height for a man may be seen as an advantage for certain roles as an actor or sportsman, and the physical symptoms of acromegaly - such as enlargement of the hands and feet, jaw, forehead and so on - are perhaps less likely to cause adverse comment in a man than a woman.

But I admit, I considered subtitling this post "Where The Hell Are You?" Women with acromegaly are seriously hard to find; the Wikipedia entry of "notable cases" of acromegaly lists thirteen sufferers, who are all male. It's true that male celebrities with gigantism are, in most cases, famous for roles which they play because of their height; like many actors with disabilities or conditions such as gigantism or dwarfism, casting directors or scouts are looking at their physical attributes first, and their acting talent second. Yet there is a fair list of men with acromegaly who are famous for their roles in TV or film, or for their sporting achievements - and there are even a few male acromegaly sufferers who are famous for something completely unrelated to their height, such as Kevin Aucoin, make-up artist and the historic Pio Pico, last governor of Mexican California.

Yet the only famous women with acromegaly that I've been able to track down so far are famous for their height alone; they are record holders, they might be interviewed for the newspapers, but they don't get the acting roles that great height opens up for their male counterparts. They're not on television playing unusually tall people; it seems as though such parts are for men only. They're not playing sport. There's no female Andre the Giant or Richard Kiel; and yet, when it comes to actors with dwarfism, there are well-known female actors out there, even if they are in smaller numbers than their male counterparts.

Gigantism caused by acromegaly is an extremely rare disease, don't get me wrong - even rarer than acromegaly which develops in adulthood. But it is just as likely to occur in women as in men - so why is it that some male sufferers are able to exploit their illness in a way in which female sufferers are not? The symptoms of acromegaly, especially that which develops in youth - great height, large jaw, big hands and feet - are debilitating, but they also closely correlate with traditional physical markers of masculinity; and they're diametrically opposed to feminine physical ideals. Do women with acromegaly suffer greater discrimination than men? I'd be interested to find out.

Women With Acromegaly

Tanya Angus
Tanya Angus is an activist who raises awareness about acromegaly in the United States. She does a pretty good job of it too; she's been interviewed on the Today Show, featured on ABC News, and even made it across the pond with a story in the Daily Mail. Tanya's acromegaly has proved impossible to control with pituitary surgery or medication, and consequently she's still growing at age 33 and 6'6". After her GP consistently failed to acknowledge that there could be anything wrong, she was diagnosed only by the time that her pituitary tumor had grown to the size of grapefruit. Whilst there was some success in reducing her hormone levels in 2010 using bumper doses of Somatuline, they appear to have been creeping back up again in 2011; and in a country where there's no National Health Service, her medications and hospital treatment are hugely expensive. She speaks about the difficulties that acromegaly brings for female sufferers; she is frequently referred to as "sir" and still receives abuse even in her home town.
See her website at http://www.tanyaangus.com/

Sandy Allen
Sandy Allen was the world's tallest woman before her death at the age of 53 in 2008. Sandy was 7' 7 1/2" - for comparison, currently the world's tallest man is Sultan Kösen at 8'3" - only 8 inches taller. In her later years, Allen was restricted to using a wheelchair to get about; many sufferers of acromegaly gigantism find that as they age, their legs and back are no longer able to support their height and weight. She made appearances on film and television, and aimed to educate children about the importance of accepting differences.

Sandy Allen

Svetlana Singh
Svetlana Singh is an Indian woman with gigantism caused by acromegaly; she was featured on a Channel Four documentary called The World's Tallest Woman And Me, although at 6'8" she is significantly smaller than the record holders. Married to a man who is 6'6", their child Karan was already 3'2" aged just ten months old. Svetlana was hoping to play netball for India at the Commonwealth Games in 2010, before a knee injury which failed to heal forced her to abandon a possible sporting career.

UPDATE: I've also written about famous people with pituitary adenomas here and here, and written specifically about famous people with Cushing's Disease.
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*What is acromegaly? It's a growth condition caused by a pituitary adenoma (tumor) which releases too much growth hormone - this site has a good explanation of the condition.

My MRI Experience: Stuck In A Moment. And Also A Tube.

Today I thought I'd continue my story of diagnosis and treatment, admittedly with a slight gap in continuity from my last post, by talking about the first MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) scan I had. Brain MRI scans are pretty cool; it seems very weird to be able to look at a picture of the internal apparatus with which you are looking at the picture of the internal apparatus that you're using to - well, you know what I mean. Brain MRIs get recursive fast!

Around this time last year, having had my introduction to my local endocrinology department, blood tests had decreed that I did not suffer from Resistance to Thyroid Hormone and therefore the doctors knew that I almost certainly had a pituitary adenoma producing Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH-oma).

Endocrinologists tend to leave off MRI scanning of the pituitary gland when diagnosing these conditions until they've ruled out all other options. This isn't a Daily Mail-worthy example of NHS cutbacks; it's because small, harmless pituitary tumours are quite common. Finding one on an MRI scan might lead doctors to wrongly diagnose a pituitary condition like TSH-oma or Cushing's disease, when in fact the tumor is not what's causing the problem.*

I knew that things must be reasonably serious when my endocrinologists allowed me to jump the queue for MRIs at the hospital. In fact, I jumped it so completely that the NHS paid for me to have my MRI done immediately at a nearby private hospital, because there were no scanners available at the NHS hospital for a few weeks. It was slightly disconcerting, not just for the speed at which it all happened, but also because I had to travel to the mystery hospital on my own, by bus, to the middle of the countryside. The bus driver dropped me off with another girl who was fortunately also headed for the private hospital, and we were left in a random village with no signposts or map. Eventually we got there, and I heartily thanked the paranoia which had led me to leave home an hour earlier than I needed to.

Before my MRI, I didn't know much about them, apart from the fact that, as the scans work through big old magnets - hence "magnetic resonance imaging" - you have to remove all metal from your body or risk it moving around in the magnetic field; consequently, no pacemakers allowed. I wanted to know what to expect, so I scoured the NHS website and interrogated family members who had already had one. They said: you take off your watch, you lie in a tube, it's loud, you have to stay still, the technician shouts "stay still, damn you!", you leave.

NOW JUST HOLD YOUR HORSES.

An account such as the one above leaves out some crucial information for folk like me. For one thing, I didn't realise that, as it was my general cranial area being scanned, they would trap my head in a box stuffed with cushions to prevent it from wiggling. Then, head duly caged, you slowly roll backwards into the MRI scanner. Anyone who is claustrophobic would not be a fan, although they gave me a panic button which I could beep if I needed rescuing.

In fairness, the staff know that this is a freaky experience and repeatedly asked "Are you ok?". Towards the end of the scan, I also realised that the machine had a reassuring mirror placed just above my eyes, which means that patients can see the MRI technicians at work through a window at the back of the room. Or at least, patients who aren't stupidly and entirely blind without their glasses, like me. I am wildly shortsighted and consequently, even once I had realised that it was a mirror, and even though it was really pretty close to my face, all I could see was pinkish blurs.

The radiography folk gave me some sexy earplugs to wear, to block out the noise of the MRI scanner going mental with magnets. Unfortunately, these kept falling out and, because my head was wedged in with cushions, there was no way of putting them back in. MRI scanners really are incredibly loud, and it's not just the loudness that's the issue - the noises they make are weird and erratic, much like a young Kate Bush. When it all goes quiet, you find yourself tensing in anticipation of the next staccato burst of noise, and when it suddenly starts shrieking in your ears it's pretty tricky not to jump out of your skin, especially if you're pumped up with thyroid hormone and thus pretty jumpy anyway.

The technicians do not like this.

Partway through (the MRI took about 40 minutes, I think) I was pulled out of the machine. My heart leapt - time goes a bit screwy when you're in a weird screaming machine - perhaps it was finished? But no, they just wanted to inject contrast dye into my arm and bung me back in.

I whiled away the time by trying to remember and recite poems in my head. I did "The Jabberwocky" a couple of times, the prologue to Romeo and Juliet, my favourite speech from Macbeth, a couple of poems and odd verses from Siegfried Sassoon, and pretty much anything else I could remember. I was very bored. Pro-tip: learn some new poetry before having an MRI and then take advantage of the time to test your memory.

Anyhow, I realise I may have made my MRI scan sound like a horrific experience** but actually it was totally fine, and I much preferred it to having endless blood tests at the hospital. I admit I was irrationally afraid that there would be a previously unknown bit of metal embedded somewhere in my body that would rip out in a bloody mess.

Fortunately, this did not occur.

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*Such tumours are known as "incidentalomas".

**Or I may have just made myself sound like a massive whinger...

Addisonian Crisis... or stressful football match?

I found an article on BBC News about how a woman was recently diagnosed with Addison's Disease, and one of the key clues to her underlying condition was her extreme response to the stress of watching particularly close and high profile football matches. They think that treatment for her condition may have cured her extreme reaction to tense games of football... but they can't be sure because her treatment and diagnosis has happened at the same time as a run of easy matches for her favourite team!

Addison's Disease is a medical condition which occurs when the body does not produce enough cortisol, a steroid hormone - basically it's the opposite of Cushing's Disease. Some people who suffer from pituitary problems due to a pituitary tumour, or after surgical removal of a tumour, are unable to produce ACTH, the pituitary hormone which stimulates the body's production of cortisol, and consequently they need to take steroids to make up for the lack of cortisol. The tricky part is that the body needs more steroid hormone when it's under stress, so when people who take steroids are sick or injured, they need to double their dosage.

After pituitary surgery, most people including me, go onto steroid replacement pills just in case there's been any damage to the part of the pituitary that produces ACTH, and take them until doctors are sure that the body is producing steroids naturally.

The aim of this is to make sure they don't suffer an Addisonian crisis, which is an acute medical emergency where there is a severe shortage of cortisol, usually in a high-stress situation. If untreated it can lead to death or coma, so people whose bodies don't produce cortisol on their own usually have some form of medical ID in case they're in an accident, to inform paramedics that they will need steroids immediately.

Let's Get Technical, Baby

Apologies for my lack of posting lately! I have been doing exams. They are now over, and my new excuse is that it's Christmas (in case you hadn't noticed). But, as of a phone call from the hospital on Wednesday last week, I have been meaning to give an update on my health. In short: my thyroid stimulating hormone levels are still normal, but I will have to start new treatment shortly... because I have high levels of the TSH alpha subunit.

"The what-now? What in god's name is that?" I hear you cry.

Don't cry.

My endocrinologists have always been cagey whenever I've tried to get them to explain what the alpha subunit actually is,* although in fairness, my shrewd personal judgement leads me to believe that this is probably less because it's a dark and terrible secret and more because they're not paid to teach biochemistry.

Anyway, the combined powers of Wikipedia and Google have provided me with the answer: it turns out that thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH) is a dimer; a chemical compound of two identical or similar monomers: in this case, the alpha subunit, and the beta subunit. No-one wants to get bogged down in the detail, so at this point I promise not to use the word "glycoprotein" without extreme provocation.**

So: TSH is made of two kinds of stuff. And as it turns out, TSHomas (pituitary tumours which produce TSH) have a bit of a habit of producing more of the alpha subunit than would normally be expected. Normally you would expect the ratio of free alpha subunit to TSH to be less than 1. Before my surgery in April, my ratio of alpha subunit to TSH was 14:1. Currently, it's 7:1.

Obviously, 7:1 is better than 14:1. However, it is equally obviously Not Quite Right.*** Consequently it seems likely that the TSHoma is still active, and even though my total thyroid-stimulating hormone levels are within normal limits, it may still be secreting some TSH as well. Active tumour = growing tumour.

So I'm going to start having injections of some kind of somatostatin analogue again. I haven't really written about this up to now (it's on my list, promise) but for three months before my operation last year I was having monthly injections of Somatuline, the brand name for lanreotide. It's a synthetic form of a hormone naturally released by the hypothalamus,**** which inhibits the production of TSH and growth hormone, and which is used to treat pituitary adenomas which are releasing either one of those hormones. If you're lucky, it can shrink the tumours a bit - at the least, it should check their growth and can also help to make their structure less fibrous, which makes it easier for surgeons to chop them up.

It's also super expensive. When my GP first looked up how much it cost after my endocrinologist had requested a prescription, he laughed in a slightly manic way for about five minutes at the price. Awkward.

I'm going to start the injections again, probably in January, for three months, to assess whether they shrink the tumour at all and whether they bring down the high levels of alpha subunit in my blood. I'm not massively looking forward to starting again - the injections mess with your body a bit, last time I felt nauseous for three days after the first one, and they're a bit of a hassle because you have to order the injections a week in advance from the pharmacy, then drop them off at your GP's because they have to be kept in the fridge. The injections sting, they have to use a massive needle because the stuff is so thick, and you end up with a lump in your hip - basically it's injected under the skin where it sits and slowly decreases in size over the month as it gets absorbed into your system.

On the plus side, having these injections should (in theory) get rid of the last of my symptoms. And that would be very nice. I am really quite bored now of my hair falling out/heart randomly getting overexcited/headaches. As for what happens after three months, who knows. The injections are a possible long term treatment option although they are an expensive hassle and they're quite likely to give you gallstones sooner or later. So that brings you back to surgery/radiotherapy. Oi vey.

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*Apart from an excellent title for some kind of spy film.

**Incidentally, the α subunit is thought to be the effector region responsible for stimulation of adenylate cyclase

***I must stop using these technical medical phrases.

****Somatostatin.Lol.

IMFW: Art Imitates Life?

Having written previously about Pio Pico, the last Governor of Mexican California who, it has recently been suggested, may have suffered from acromegaly caused by a growth-hormone producing pituitary adenoma, I got to thinking about this retrospective diagnosis lark, and I did a bit of reading. It turn out, doctors love arguing over whether Mozart had kidney failure or rheumatic fever, Schönlein-Henoch syndrome, trichinosis or the 'flu - and he's not the only famous composer to get the "what did he die of" treatment.

But this article takes things to another level. Professor Michael Baum takes his medical students around the National Gallery on a veritable orgy of slightly tenuous diagnoses, based solely on what they see in paintings. He and his students have suggested that The Ugly Duchess by Massys may show a woman suffering from Paget's disease of the bone, and suggested that An Allegory with Venus and Cupid by Bronzino has a hidden syphilitic message. Some of their arguments are more compelling than others, but it's an interesting article and I recommend following up the full versions of his analysis as well.