Preventing Effective Treatment Early

Preventing Effective Treatment Early

I often wonder why so many MS neurologists and their teams are so risk-averse when it comes to medicating MS hard and early. I have come to the conclusion that it is all about risk perception and the inability/unwillingness to do three things –

1: to separate out overall risk into present and future. 

2: to manage what must be very difficult but necessary conversations with the patient

3: to shake the ‘doctor/nurse knows best’ mindset

My hypothesis is that there is a large element of the reluctance/inability to engage with these points is that they are related to dealing with death in care. If you’re a trauma surgeon or an oncologist, for example, you and your team will need to navigate death quite regularly, you cannot swerve involvement. But, if you’re an MS neurologist/nurse, it’s unlikely that you have to deal with reasonably regular death in care scenarios. Ergo: why would you use a drug first line that may cause death in any way shape or form? To you, the risks seem quite imbalanced. This is still a doctor/nurse centric approach because were a patient involved in the conversation, having had all the risks of MS explained to them, I think far fewer patients would opt to be so risk-averse.

Why is this important? Because in many specialities the doctor needs to make an on-the-spot decision that may pay off or may hasten death. It is a risk/reward calculation that is a serious one, but quite common. It can go either way. Sometimes it pays off and others not so much. The potential for death as a direct result of a medical intervention that they initiate is there in a way that it simply isn’t in MS neurology, and I don’t think that many MS neurologists/nurses are that comfortable stepping into that space. This hesitancy causes an internal brake, a fear: call it what you will. This scenario is all about the doctor/nurse though, not the patient.

What is about the patient is explaining risks. Not just for the now but for the duration of the disease. How many doctors/nurses can really say that they have had these tough conversations? Tough for the patient, and often scary. I daresay tough for the initiator too. How do you communicate the long-term risks? The data-driven reality is that there is an almost inevitable degree of disability that will impact the patient and all the people around them. It is made additionally difficult as the further out in time one looks the harder it is to be precise. At this stage, only broad brush data-driven remarks from datasets that are certainly not current inform this. Nonetheless, as a patient I want to know the best available evidence, I do not want reality to be varnished into something it isn’t in order to avoid the hard truths.

I know of one neurologist who tells me they make a specific point about having this hard conversation with their patients. They do it because they want the patient to understand just how screwed up they are likely to be in the future if they fail to choose an effective drug now.  This is Induction therapy, the so-called flipping the pyramid approach. It is not about scaring the patient into a course of action that is unnecessarily risky nor driving them onto a high-efficacy therapy because the doctor is an ideologue. Data shows that the sooner a patient is started on a high-efficacy therapy then the better their long-term outcomes are. I can’t think of anyone who’d choose to embrace physical disability in the future if they could do something about it now.

It is the most staggeringly patronising thing a doctor/nurse can do, thinking that they know better than their patient regarding risks the patient is willing to take. The medical professionals’ job is to explain best and worst-case scenarios honestly. At the point of diagnosis, or early on in the disease, it is impossible to give a 100% reliable indication of how things will turn out (Hope for the best plan for the worst, fix the roof when the sun is shining etc). It is possible to talk about the downsides. 

Whilst it is true that not everyone will have mind-numbing fatigue, need a wheelchair, catheterisation, nappies, or an anal plug because they can’t control their bowels, have issues thinking about the simplest things, have problems talking, using their hands, need countless ancillary meds for spasticity, pain, cognition, sleeping, more pain and so on. But this is the reality for many people with MS. I know several who were diagnosed when high-efficacy meds were available but were talked into ‘going gently’ because the scary unpleasant stuff was sugar-coated into the ‘things like that happen to other people’ category. Now they have many of the above issues and there is no going back. 

As a doctor/nurse, just how can you be certain that your patient will avoid some or all of the above? There is no evidence that a ‘mild’ presentation now means the person is unlikely tto suffer serious effects. No way at all of telling. Everyone is operating with one eye shut. Until we have the capability to say definitively that the disease will take a particular course then it is madness to assume the best when the odds of a best-case outcome are c. 1 in 10. Who bets on odds like that? Only someone betting with someone else’s money, that’s who. A person without the disease advising someone with the disease?

I’d suggest flipping your own pyramid and asking yourself – knowing what the future of undertreated MS holds – what your own risk tolerance would be. I have a feeling you wouldn’t want to tip-toe up to your own MS and take your chances when the odds are only 10% in your favour. 

Telling a patient that they have MS shouldn’t be the tough part. Helping them make the best – evidence-based – decisions now that will affect how my life goes in 10, 20, 30 years time, that is the hard bit. Perhaps it would help the doctor/nurse to imagine that they were looking after the same patient in 25 years time and having to see the effects of their approach today?

Here is an all too typical example: I know an MS patient (a fit and otherwise healthy young man) who enquired about HSCT with his MS neurologist to just have it dismissed out of hand on the grounds that it is too dangerous. The patient is a smart fellow and understands the potential risks very well. He also understands the potential payoff and considers it worth front-loading the risks for the payoff.

However, their doctor shut down the conversation then and there because the doctor felt differently. 

The MS neurologist who doesn’t have MS and is not facing an uncertain future?

The MS neurologist who is not willing to allow their patient, a grown man who can choose to vote, drink, and die for his country to make an informed choice about risks now versus risks later?

That doctor is highly unlikely to be this patient’s doctor in 20 years time when their MS may have gone very badly, and is not there to see what their casual dismissal of HSCT as an option may have cost this patient. The MS neurologist was judging it all through their own lens, not that of the patient. Doctor knows best. Next patient please.

Until medical professionals see it as their duty to let the patient choose the risk they are willing to take – once fully and accurately informed – this patronisation of patients will continue. With many patients, unsure, unwilling, and unequipped to challenge, the medical professional will continue to act like a risk-averse god and choose what they think is best for their patients. That isn’t right.

Demyelination to Remyelination

Multiple Sclerosis (MS) is a demyelinating disease therefore a drug that induces remyelination ought to cure it. Pretty obvious. No? 

Much in the way some people talk about HSCT (Stem Cells) as if they will fix everything with everyone I get the sense that remyelination drugs carry a similar expectation of a cure. In some cases the results may be nothing short of remarkable and in others they will be bitterly disappointing, crushing the hopes and dreams of many who have freighted remyelination with unreasonable expectations. 

The reason I have been prompted to write this comes from the surprise popularity of an interview I did with Dr Will Brown from Cambridge who is part of a team researching remyelination. You can watch it here: bit.ly/Remyl-MS 

I just want to inject some reality into the discussion and set expectations. The ensuing comments on the video and the threads that regularly pop up on MS Twitter got me thinking, what will remyelination actually mean for MS patients? Will it turn back the MS clock? Will I suddenly become the 53y old chap without MS that I would have been? Will I suddenly stop experiencing fatigue, coordination, eyesight issues, odd sensations and the like that are now just part of life and me?

From talking to researchers and MS specialist neurologists it sounds like a remyelinating therapy (and there will absolutely be more than one in the next 5-10 years) will have variable effects on different patients. Talking with many other patients the expectations vary from realistic to magical.

Some of the false hope is perpetuated by genuine people. After all, who doesn’t want to get better? Grasping at the press releases of small biotech companies reminds me of something my mother used to refer to it as ‘picking up fag ends’, which for those wondering are the ends of discarded cigarettes that tramps cobble together to get a tiny nicotine hit. The results are always a triumph of expectation over reality.

Rather boringly the devil is in the detail with trial results. I was reading the Atara Therapeutics press release from ECTRIMS this year and having worked in the pharmaceutical industry read it in several different ways. 

Firstly, it is incredible news. Secondly, I read a hopeful and extremely carefully crafted statement that is designed to reassure current investors and attract new ones. It also wants to catch the eye of the big pharmaceutical companies as they have the infrastructure and expertise to commercialise a drug. No tiny biotech can afford huge phase 3 trials and then the lengthy and complex approvals process followed by launching and selling the drug. The aim is to be bought by a large firm for a massive amount of cash.

(It is a very expensive money-burning business to be a biotech. Spending fortunes on research funded entirely by people who hope you are right and will become stinking rich if you are. The investors are largely financial gamblers with very diverse portfolios as they know 99% of their investments will fail.

So, I implore anyone reading these teeny tiny Phase 1&2 trial results to keep your hope and optimism but temper it with a healthy great dollop of cynicism. It simply may not work at scale, it may be deemed uneconomical and go nowhere, and and and. Drug development is a for-profit business. The drug development path is littered with promising compounds that were deemed commercially unviable and went no further.

If the stars align and everything goes perfectly then expect a further 5, more likely 10, years to pass from now (Dec 2022) before a drug is available for some lucky people. When it does it will be like the first-generation DMTs in so much as it does something but not a great deal. The first drugs on the market for remyelination will be looked at 20 years from their launch as clumsy and largely ineffective ones. That is the way. 

My message is this. Be optimistic, seek solutions, and don’t expect miracles.

(Reader’s Note: I have had MS for 29y so far and would ungraciously elbow myself to the front of the queue for a remyelination drug that could turn back the MS clock.)

Roadtrip!

Or, as I soon realised, it is all about having a purpose in life.

My good mate from University has a monumentally flaky girlfriend and they had planned this weekend as a lovely 3 days of walking in the most beautiful of places, the Lake District. For his birthday next Monday. And she bailed last night. Cue a phone call to Dom: can I go walking in the Lakes for several days with nearly all expenses paid, leave Sunday morning? Hell to the yes I can.

But it’s not really all about helping out a mate. It is the planning a road trip at the last moment element which is also fun for me, and very purposeful. Knocking out a few Wainwrights and Scafell Pike (pictured above) in mid-November is not without a host of weather-related hazards. I mean, who wants to suffer the indignity of being helicoptered off or having a Mountain Rescue team have to locate me because I have been an absolute cretin? This means I get to get the right OS map sheets, assemble my winter hillwalking kit, get the appropriately sized rucksack from my embarrassingly large one for every occasion collection, reproof my waterproofs, apply yet another coating of Leder-Gris to my trusty Altbergs, do an inventory of my gear, and bake two loaves of bread because we are self-catering in a camping pod in Borrowdale. Oh, I also need to check and adjust the tyre pressures in my car for the 6h drive and add my mate to my insurance. And get him a birthday card for next Monday because it wouldn’t be very sporting to wake up on Monday and forget the poor sods birthday?

I have had to cancel an interview on Saturday, will have to make a short video for theMSguide.com explaining that normal service (a Friday release of something good is what I promised; like voluntarily putting a gun to my own head but if I don’t have pressure/expectations/purpose then I am a lazy bugger) will be interrupted.

MS wise this is a ‘good thing’ because I have a firmly held belief that ensuring I have a purpose is critical to staying well. The fact that much of my purpose is focused on physical activity is a happy accident for my MS. There have been a few times in my life when I have allowed myself to drift and that way lies dragons. Dragons of inactivity, listlessness and mental anguish. Seriously, it is very bad for ones mental health to lack purpose. You can rapidly go to some very dark places where it can get very Hotel California very fast. And if that last remark puzzles you then imagine me sighing deeply, remarking about the youth of today etc and then reminding you of the immortal line, “Welcome to the Hotel California…where you can check out but you can never leave”.

I usually loathe stories with a moral but I will temporarily overlook that for a moment because the moral of this post is that if you don’t want to slide all too easily into a spiral of inactivity and mental health issues then it is critical that you have a purpose in your life. And in case you were hoping that someone or something is going to come along and give you that purpose then you are deluding yourself. Purpose comes from within and you need to construct it from what is there. In my case, today, it is helping out a chum and going walking in an amazing location.

Here endeth the sermon, I shall dismount from my soapbox and bid you adieu. I’m off to the Lakes and there is a lot to do before I leave.

Patient Involvement, Or Not?

Where is the patient involvement in designing the DMT guidelines for Multiple Sclerosis?

According to the NHS: ‘People and communities are important to us because they help us improve all aspects of health care, including patient safety, patient experience and health outcomes – giving people the power to live healthier lives.’  

The NHS England algorithm for using DMT’s says: ‘The purpose of this algorithm is to provide a framework to aid decision-making for multiple sclerosis (MS) specialists and patients, to help reduce excessive variation in practice, and ensure safe and effective prescribing. It is understood that there may be situations where there is no single ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ therapeutic approach, and different experts may reasonably hold different views. ‘

Despite these unequivocal statements regarding ‘the patient’, Multiple Sclerosis patients have no input whatsoever into the decision making process about what drugs are used in MS and when. It is as if the treatment of multiple sclerosis is so complicated, the syntax so specialised, that unless one is a specialised neurologist or similar then comprehension is simply beyond them.

Keeping the patient voice out of one of the single most important areas of our treatment speaks to the very old fashioned patrician Doctor knows best attitude. This gives the rhetoric around patient involvement a very hollow sound. Before the reply is made about MS Charity consultation reflecting the patient let’s put this to bed too. There are so very few patients with Multiple Sclerosis employed by these charities that when they claim to speak about the patient experience, that also rings hollow. Sure, you can ask them for input, to reflect patient attitudes etc but the replies you will get are mediated by people who do not have MS and, try as they might, can’t accurately reflect the patient experience.

If genuine patient involvement in MS care is to be more than just a phrase uttered by policymakers, to salve their own ears, by hearing themselves say it out loud at every available opportunity, then MS patients need to be directly involved in designing the NHS DMT prescribing algorithm. Repeated second-hand ad-hoc personal experiences or the representations made by well-meaning intermediaries are not a reliable or genuine substitute for including patients. Patient with lived experience of MS must be at the table and involved in both the discussion and the output. 

Until there is unmediated patient involvement in the construction of the prescribing algorithm, it is difficult to understand how the experts in MS patient care can do this while knowing full-well of the failure to involve the very patients who will take these treatments in the decision-making process. We, patients, are a very strange and diverse bunch when compared to the comparative uniformity of highly educated and very scientifically/technically/financially learned people who decide about drugs for our use created. The issues caused by allowing patients into the hallowed backrooms of clinical decision making are many and varied. Heck, I imagine disabled persons access/accommodation would rocket near the top of the agenda! These are not insurmountable hurdles, just different challenges.

Putting the patient’s names on the guidelines, having actual patient input into them is the very least we ought to expect, not the most we can hope for. 

Dear NHS, we want to be involved in the way that you say we should.

You talk the talk, but will you walk the walk?

Visualising the future of a patient’s MS is getting easier by the day

The concept of ‘was that my last good day’ is a permanent spectre in my life. I no longer get as rattled by the unpredictability in quite the way that I used to, but it never really goes away. For example: I had an amazing weekend just gone. I Walked 29km over two days, went to a pub for the first time since lockdown, baked some fresh bread, saw friends etc. And now, Monday morning, I wake feeling a bit weird and a bit off. Hard to explain but my mood is one of inexplicable hopelessness, I feel shattered already and am generally quite sub-par. Go figure.

One of the stranger things about having MS is that you just have to accept is the complete unpredictability of it all. Hot/cold, happy/sad, pain/no pain. see/double vision, you get the idea. If you don’t I reckon you’ll go stark staring mad in a matter of months. But back to the present wobble…

All of a sudden, across my mind, flits the well worn thought of, ‘was that it’. Rational Me knows that this is ridiculous. Still, rationality takes a back seat and Irrational Me triumphs. I know this is a bad and dark hole to allow myself to be dragged into and it is a Herculean effort to force Rational Me back and send it on the daily task of kicking all the silly Irrational Me thoughts and fears back into the dark recess where I think they ought to stay.

Talking of dark holes, these are the parts of the mind that don’t show up on my MRI and are not easily quantifiable to my neurologist. They are impossibly hard to describe and when I get to my once annual review they seem like an odd abstract thought that, in trying vainly to describe, will take away from that valued visit for the ‘serious stuff’, making me loath to spend those precious minutes trying to explain the inexplicable. 

There are so many things to measure with MS, and the neurologists want to hear about them because that is an efficient clinic visit. Recording the measurables. How well you walk, pee, see, swallow, and so on. They like those sort of metrics as they can place you somewhere, measure stability or decline and tell you where you are in the journey of decline. The anxiety stuff?  The demons, the black feelings and so on? Most prefer to leave that to the staff of P-Wing because there is no EDSS equivalent that can describe the daily rollercoaster of emotions, that’s life. I always leave feeling as if everything that has been said is caveated with the equivalent of a warning on an investment product about the past performance being no guarantee of the future. 

Annoying as that is to both parties, in Multiple Sclerosis there has never really been a way to look into the future and reliably predict either the potential onset, extent, and/or severity of the illness in general or the relapses that characterise the earlier stages of the disease. So when they say that it is impossible to tell, they aren’t joking. Watch and wait is their motto. Hope and pray is mine. Either way, both are as uncertain as the other. They can measure what has happened or, at best, what is happening, and in fairness, who likes dealing in the what-ifs and the maybes? I imagine that every neurologist that has ever had to deliver a diagnosis of MS to some poor soul has been met with a version of, “what is going to happen to me?” and it is a very difficult question to answer. The ability to quantify anything with regards to that question is v tricky, and, in general, by the time a doctor has made it to the heady heights of Consultant they are well-versed in the delivery of difficult messages such as, hmmm, not sure really, we’ll have to wait and see. No looking into the future here. Move along. 

But there are some glimmers of hope! Whilst there isn’t the precision that I or my neurologist may want, these days there are tools that offer the opportunity to go beyond an educated guess.

I can think of three emerging tools that give real hope for taking a forward view. Neurofilament Lightchains (NfL’s), Optical Coherence Tomography (OCT), and Artificial Intelligence (AI) analysis of MRI. 

 1 – Starting with NfL’s, these are things that can be taken from the fluid that is drained during a lumbar puncture. They serve as biomarkers, a fancy way of saying signposts from our body, regarding three main things:

  • Risk of progression. E.g.: The how bad is this going to be doc, question?
  • Clinical disease activity. Not what you can or can’t see/elicit from patient recollection of symptoms or tests done to determine the level of effect at the time but what is actually going on in my noggin. 
  • Treatment response. Have you ever wondered if the DMT you are on is doing anything? I have a standard reply to people when they ask about DMTs for MS. I explain that unlike a paracetamol that does or doesn’t fix a pain, the DMT is taken with a belief in science and large scale clinical trials. They say it works and I have to believe that.The neurologists are in the same boat. We all have to believe in science that a good DMT increases the time between relapses and reduces the effects of a relapse when we do have them. We will, it is a progressive illness. A very rare few may experience no measurable progression in life. They are the exception that proves the rule.
From a Barts MS blog article

2 – OCT scans are a bit like looking into a supermarket barcode scanner when you have one. It feels like little bars of red light flitting around trying to determine the price of your eyes! What comes out though is amazing. They map the retina thickness and condition and compiled over time they allow an expert to see into the brain through the eyes. The presence or loss of ganglion cells (I am emphatically not an expert) also serve to let the doctor know what is happening in the brains of the patient. When they are done as a matter of course (not right now) they’ll also need someone to understand and interpret them, or they are pointless – this probably isn’t going to be your neurologist.

Presently, it still does not make a difference for the clinical management. But it’s very promising and much more convenient than brain volume measurements on MRI, and is probably going become very important in the future. 
This is a very promising biomarker as it is easily accessible and reflects brain damage and will allow the neurologist to quantify how neuroprotective a treatment is.

Part of my recent OCT scan
Part of my recent OCT scan

3 – Finally, AI examination of MRI scans is allowing doctors to identify different manifestations of MS. By seeing these they can better understand what is more likely to happen. An added bonus is that once a computer is sufficiently well trained and is running the right software it can be relentless. Humans get tired, need coffee, are distracted, miss things, misinterpret things, however diligent we are. People try their best but it is a boring and repetitive task gazing at slice after slice after slice of an MRI. To have a computer do that heavy lifting is infinitely preferable. This means that the human expert neuroradiologists get notified of the results and can verify and check the anomalies a computer picks-up that may go unnoticed to a human being, however good they are. 

AI looking at layers of the MS brain MRI

If you aren’t a little in awe by now then you need to get checked. This is amazing. For the very first time, there are tools and technologies that will allow our doctors to treat us for what they know is going to happen and not what they think might happen. It is the moving to precision treatment and not hitting everything with the biggest hammer they can lay their hands on. It is allowing patients to understand why their neurologists offer the choices they do and say some of the things they do. These days, only the most backward neurologists think MS is an on/off sort of disease. To say you aren’t progressing is inaccurate. A better phrase is, ‘with the tech we have available we can’t see anything at the moment.’ 

These tools are years away, not decades. The next time I see my neurologist I’ll be asking them how they think they’ll be deploying these technologies to treat me better? As for the mental strains, I still don’t know where to begin with these. I have found that it is likely to remain my job for a long time to come. But things do get a little easier when we know a bit more about what is around the corner.  Go science!

With thanks to Dr Sharmilee Gnanapavan (@neurognanapavan) and Dr Ide Smets (@SmetsIde) for ensuring I wasn’t talking total rubbish.

For some more in-depth reading there are links to some of the most recent work:

NfL’s – https://multiple-sclerosis-research.org/2021/04/do-you-know-your-neurofilament-level/

OCT – https://multiple-sclerosis-research.org/2021/04/only-your-eyes-can-show-the-suffering-dixit-fausto-coppi/

AI/MRI – https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-021-22265-2