Category Archives: CFS

Will there ever be a cure for CFS?

I was asked this question on Formspring by @jwhouk the other day, and I decided it was worthy of a better answer than a few lines on Twitter. Actually, the way he phrased it was

Deep down in your heart of hearts (or whatever you want to call it) — do you believe/think there will ever be a cure for CFS? Or at least an understanding of causes for it?

which I like because I feel more comfortable talking about my beliefs and speculations than the hard science. And then the timing was funny as this story came out yesterday. It’s a report on a study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS), detailing a replication study seeking XMRV in patients with chronic fatigue syndrome. The PNAS paper had been held for some time, frustrating and angering patients, and now that it’s out, the results are interesting. Although the researchers did not find XMRV, they did find a related family of retroviruses. This isn’t going to end the controversy over XMRV anytime soon — there are many questions remaining about the selection of patient cohorts, why other studies were unable to find XMRV, and so forth — but more information is always good.

This is part of my answer to the question, this fact that right now there is more interest in CFS research than there has been in years. For one thing, this is obviously directly good news for people who want a cure. Even if XMRV or MLV turn out to be complete red herrings, who knows what else may be discovered along the way. And a major side benefit of this research is that more people — physicians and otherwise — learn that CFS is a true somatic problem that warrants research. The disease and the people who have it receive validation, which may lead to better care and further research as well. So these are all positive signs even if there are some very questionable aspects, such as patients starting dangerous treatments for things they don’t even know they have yet.

The problem with CFS is that, although we patients tend to insist on it being treated as a disease, it is not one. It is a syndrome — an association of related symptoms — and those symptoms and their severity differ enormously from person to person. (It’s important to note this does not mean that anyone with a few fatigue-related symptoms has CFS. There are several sets of different but related diagnostic criteria.) Some patients have mostly neurological symptoms, and tend to identify as having ME (myalgic encephalopathy), while others like me exhibit almost exclusively post-viral symptoms. There are endless debates over the name of the syndrome, and whether it should or shouldn’t be lumped together, as it often is, as ME/CFS. This is why I remain skeptical about XMRV: does it really seem possible that a single retrovirus, or even a family of them, could cause such an enormous disparity in etiologies, disease progression, symptoms, and so forth? Possibly in one particular set of patients, but what about everyone else?

So I don’t really envision a vaccine or gene therapy anytime soon or ever that will wipe out CFS, although I do expect better therapies and treatments. I think what is more likely to happen is that as we increase our understanding of various illnesses, especially autoimmune ones, patients formerly diagnosed with CFS will be found to have something else. This happens frequently enough now (although sometimes in the other direction, as in patients with depression who are later found to have CFS as a somatic cause), and there’s no reason to think it won’t continue. As medical science becomes more knowledgeable about autoimmune disorders, demyelinating disorders, and many other related areas, I think CFS patients will continue to be rediagnosed with more specific — and hopefully treatable! — illnesses. In this sense, medicine will “cure” CFS by redefining patients into other categories, and with luck, having no more use for this “garbage can” of a diagnosis.

Post to Twitter Post to Delicious Post to Digg Post to Facebook Post to Reddit Post to StumbleUpon

Weekend sendoff: I’m too lucky

Because for the most part I’m surrounded, online and off, by people who are accepting and understanding of what’s happened to me, whether or not they even knew me before I got nerfed. And for the most part the silly or ignorant things that are said to me come from well-meaning people who are trying to be kind or polite. So it can be easy for me sometimes to forget that malicious prejudice against invisible illness really exists.

I thought this Skepticblog post by Steven Novella about a controversial treatment for MS was very interesting. For one thing, it reminded me of CFS “specialists” such as electrical engineer Trevor Marshall, who somehow manage to be the only person to discover a miracle treatment. In the case of chronic cerebrospinal venous insufficiency (CCSVI) in MS patients, the specialist is at least a physician, but that doesn’t necessarily make his setup any more legitimate.

I feel empathy for MS patients who are anxious to learn about a potential new treatment or even cure, but I also feel a sense of recognition with the potentially (or likely, according to Novella) premature clamor for this treatment. It’s very similar to the CFS patients who are getting themselves tested for XMRV — a test that is still not covered by insurance, but is in at least one case administered by a lab with connections to the institute that did the original study — or even treated with antiretroviral medication.

The part where I’m lucky comes in where I commented briefly as much on the post, which was met by two ugly responses by someone who can generously be called a troll. Yes, I do recognize that behavior, which according to the rules of the Internet mean I shouldn’t be upset by it. And I should deplore the outpouring of scathing responses as “feeding the troll” rather than taking delight and satisfaction in them. Yes, I was being a thin-skinned noob.

But what bothers me isn’t this particular person, really. It’s the general reminder of how people with chronic and mostly invisible illnesses are actually viewed in many cases. “There’s no evidence,” the troll snarked, because mostly we don’t look sick. As stupid as that sounds, and as obviously as this doucheturkey just wanted to garner attention, it is the reality for many patients much less fortunate than I am. When you hear of someone with CFS saying she wished she had cancer instead, it may sound shocking, but I can’t say I blame her.

Now that I’ve bummed you all out, I’ll send you off with what may be the best video ever. EVER. Paul sent this to me a couple of days ago and I cannot stop watching it. EVER. Prepare to die of cute, and then have a great weekend.

Post to Twitter Post to Delicious Post to Digg Post to Facebook Post to Reddit Post to StumbleUpon

The problem with causation

Chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS) patients are making a name for themselves these days, and not in a good way. The current brouhaha over new studies that have been submitted, then held, then whatever else is going on is bringing out the worst in the XMRV cheerleaders. I recently wrote about compassion for patients who are not in a good place to think critically, but even my own compassion is stretched to the limit, and frequently breaks, when it comes to the screaming impatience and conspiracy theorizing that can be seen on sites like Phoenix Rising.

Some CFS patients, let’s say the extremists, expect XMRV to be a combined Messiah/Holy Grail/panacea for all their ills. As I’ve mentioned before, some are even taking antiretroviral medication already, something that is highly dangerous and is not currently recommended by any reputable physician. The problem stems from an overall difficulty I see in chronic illness communities: the correlation fallacy. Which is to say, “correlation does not imply causation.” This simply means that just because two things appear to be connected does not necessarily mean that they are.

CFS, like many chronic illnesses, is a concatenation of unpredictable symptoms. While it’s common for exertion to push patients into a crash, we might also stay in bed all day, and the next day be crashed for no apparent reason. (In this context I use “crash” like many patients, to mean an especially disabling flare-up of symptoms.) This is one of the most annoying aspects of the illness. Quite a while ago I described exactly that situation to my doctor, and asked why it happened, and his answer was this: “You have CFS.” Right. That’s the way it goes.

In addition, like myself, many people with CFS have other conditions that either exacerbate our symptoms or result in fun new ones. So, although I must reiterate that there are specific criteria (well, half a dozen sets of criteria, but that’s another story) for diagnosing CFS from symptoms, most if not all of us experience symptom weirdness and ups and downs without rhyme or reason.

And yet, patients happily share stories of great success with dubious or even flat-out quack treatments. “I started using this herb, and the next day I started feeling better!” someone will chirp. Despite the fact that the selfsame person may recently have been bemoaning the capricious nature of our illness and how it’s so hard to make plans when you never know how you’re going to feel (true), now it’s become perfectly clear that taking this herb caused an upswing.

“Correlation does not imply causation” is one of the clarion calls of the critical thinker and the evidence-based physician. And yet these false correlations happen all the time. As you know, I try to come from a place of understanding, but the cognitive dissonance displayed in the above example really blows right past me. Whether it’s low-dose naltrexone (LDN), CoQ10, or even conventional pharmaceuticals, it’s usually pretty difficult to determine (and especially not in the space of a couple of days) whether any one treatment caused a major improvement. And that’s not even taking into account the placebo effect.

I don’t begrudge people feeling better. Nor do I discount the placebo effect for people who cannot get relief any other way. But what sometimes happens next is that other people who have had similar experiences will post about it as well. And then the other major fallacy found in chronic illness communities arises, where patient anecdotes are mistaken for hard data. Mostly, this isn’t too big of a deal. After all, science has so far failed us, so we do turn to others to find out what has helped them, and possibly try it ourselves. As I’ve said many times, I’m not entirely against this. The problem happens when people come to consider this information to be as valid as evidence-based medicine. Communities are wonderful for commiserating and sharing stories, but relying on these stories as a source of scientific data is dangerous.

Especially when it comes to XMRV. I’ve seen people deciding that everyone on a FB page or a forum should get tested for XMRV “and then we’ll have more results.” No. Those are still anecdotes, and given that the evidence-based studies can barely get it together on how to select a patient cohort and all the other complicated issues with testing CFS patients (such as severity of disease, which isn’t always taken into account), it’s ridiculous to imagine that half a dozen tests on people from all over the country or the world will contribute to a scientific body of evidence.

Finally, something I see missing from an enormous amount of XMRV discussion is the fact that even if it is shown to have a strong correlation with CFS, that does not imply causation. There isn’t even solid evidence of a correlation yet and people are jumping all over causation, with the antiretrovirals, rushing out to get expensive and useless tests, worrying themselves to death over whether they’ve spread the illness to others, and so forth. It’s perfectly likely that even if a correlation is found, the retrovirus may simply be a dormant infection to which people with CFS are especially susceptible. Or any number of other possibilities besides XMRV being a causative agent. I wish I were seeing less anxiety and more patience.

I get that some of the hoopla doesn’t even really have to do with medicine. It has to do with perception. The notion that a virus causes CFS is enormously attractive to patients who have been dismissed, invalidated, and marginalized for years. Proof of a somatic cause would mean even more than a cure — it would mean no more people trying to, say, cure CFS with neurolinguistic programming (NLP), as a fellow patient related to me the other day. The hope for that may be even stronger than the hope for a cure.

But again, hope, belief, fear…these do not aid in the calm assessment of the scientific process or of the data it (eventually) provides. Patients are falling back on emotion when they should be hanging on to rationality. No, it’s not fun. It’s easier and more comfortable to get together with other patients and howl instead of making the effort to think things through with a clear head. But that effort is absolutely crucial, especially considering the very negative views on our community that are starting to develop due to a visible and vocal segment of it. We’ve spent all this time trying to get attention, and now that we have it, we’re being seen by outsiders as a bunch of hysterical loonies. This is why I continue to plead for rationality and critical thinking in the CFS community.

Post to Twitter Post to Delicious Post to Digg Post to Facebook Post to Reddit Post to StumbleUpon