Lorenzo’s Oil for Nervous Breakdowns

 

A Happy New Year to all our readers – and indeed to anyone who isn’t a member of that merry band!

What better way to start than with a salute to the miracles of modern science by talking about how the lives of a group of young boys have been saved by one such miracle.

However, as is almost always the way in science, this miraculous moment is merely the latest step in a long journey. In retracing those steps we first meet a wonderful Belgian – so, when ‘name a famous Belgian’ comes up in your next pub quiz, you can triumphantly produce him as a variant on dear old Eddy Merckx (of bicycle fame) and César Franck (albeit born before Belgium was invented). As it happened, our star was born in Thames Ditton (in 1917: his parents were among the one quarter of a million Belgians who fled to Britain at the beginning of the First World War) but he grew up in Antwerp and the start of World War II found him on the point of becoming qualified as a doctor at the Catholic University of Leuven. Nonetheless, he joined the Belgian Army, was captured by the Germans, escaped, helped by his language skills, and completed his medical degree.

Not entirely down to luck

This set him off on a long scientific career in which he worked in major institutes in both Europe and America. He began by studying insulin (he was the first to suggest that insulin lowered blood sugar levels by prompting the liver to take up glucose), which led him to the wider problems of how cells are organized to carry out the myriad tasks of molecular breaking and making that keep us alive.

The notion of the cell as a kind of sac with an outer membrane that protects the inside from the world dates from Robert Hooke’s efforts with a microscope in the 1660s. By the end of the nineteenth century it had become clear that there were cells-within-cells: sub-compartments, also enclosed by membranes, where special events took place. Notably these included the nucleus (containing DNA of course) and mitochondria (sites of cellular respiration where the final stages of nutrient breakdown occurs and the energy released is transformed into adenosine triphosphate (ATP) with the consumption of oxygen).

In the light of that history it might seem a bit surprising that two more sub-compartments (‘organelles’) remained hidden until the 1950s. However, if you’re thinking that such a delay could only be down to boffins taking massive coffee breaks and long vacations, you’ve never tried purifying cell components and getting them to work in test-tubes. It’s a process called ‘cell fractionation’ and, even with today’s methods, it’s a nightmare (sub-text: if you have to do it, give it to a Ph.D. student!).

By this point our famous Belgian had gathered a research group around him and they were trying to dissect how insulin worked in liver cells. To this end they (the Ph.D. students?!) were using cell fractionation and measuring the activity of an enzyme called acid phosphatase. Finding a very low level of activity one Friday afternoon, they stuck the samples in the fridge and went home. A few days later some dedicated soul pulled them out and re-measured the activity discovering, doubtless to their amazement, that it was now much higher!

In science you get odd results all the time – the thing is: can you repeat them? In this case they found the effect to be absolutely reproducible. Leave the samples a few days and you get more activity. Explanation: most of the enzyme they were measuring was contained within a membrane-like barrier that prevented the substrate (the chemical that the enzyme reacts with) getting to the enzyme. Over a few days the enzyme leaked through the barrier and, lo and behold, now when you measured activity there was more of it!

Thus was discovered the ‘lysosome’ – a cell-within-a cell that we now know is home to an array of some 40-odd enzymes that break down a range of biomolecules (proteinsnucleic acidssugars and lipids). Our self-effacing hero said it was down to ‘chance’ but in science, as in other fields of life, you make your own luck – often, as in this case, by spotting something abnormal, nailing it down and then coming up with an explanation.

In the last few years lysosomes have emerged as a major player in cancer because they help cells to escape death pathways. Furthermore, they can take up anti-cancer drugs, thereby reducing potency. For these reasons they are the focus of great interest as a therapeutic target.

Lysosomes in cells revealed by immunofluorescence.

Antibody molecules that stick to specific proteins are tagged with fluorescent labels. In these two cells protein filaments of F-actin that outline cell shape are labelled red. The green dots are lysosomes (picked out by an antibody that sticks to a lysosome protein, RAB9). Nuclei are blue (image: ThermoFisher Scientific).

Play it again Prof!

In something of a re-run of the lysosome story, the research team then found itself struggling with several other enzymes that also seemed to be shielded from the bulk of the cell – but the organelle these lived in wasn’t a lysosome – nor were they in mitochondria or anything else then known. Some 10 years after the lysosome the answer emerged as the ‘peroxisome’ – so called because some of their enzymes produce hydrogen peroxide. They’re also known as ‘microbodies’ – little sacs, present in virtually all cells, containing enzymatic goodies that break down molecules into smaller units. In short, they’re a variation on the lysosome theme and among their targets for catabolism are very long-chain fatty acids (for mitochondriacs the reaction is β-oxidation but by a different pathway to that in mitochondria).

Peroxisomes revealed by immunofluorescence.

As in the lysosome image, F-actin is red. The green spots here are from an antibody that binds to a peroxisome protein (PMP70). Nuclei are blue (image: Novus Biologicals)

Cell biology fans will by now have worked out that our first hero in this saga of heroes is Christian de Duve who shared the 1974 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine with Albert Claude and George Palade.

A wonderful Belgian. Christian de Duve: physician and Nobel laureate.

Hooray!

Fascinating and important stuff – but nonetheless background to our main story which, as they used to say in The Goon Show, really starts here. It’s so exciting that, in 1992, they made a film about it! Who’d have believed it?! A movie about a fatty acid!! Cinema buffs may recall that in Lorenzo’s Oil Susan Sarandon and Nick Nolte played the parents of a little boy who’d been born with a desperate disease called adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD). There are several forms of ALD but in the childhood disease there is progression to a vegetative state and death occurs within 10 years. The severity of ALD arises from the destruction of myelin, the protective sheath that surrounds nerve fibres and is essential for transmission of messages between brain cells and the rest of the body. It occurs in about 1 in 20,000 people.

Electrical impulses (called action potentials) are transmitted along nerve and muscle fibres. Action potentials travel much faster (about 200 times) in myelinated nerve cells (right) than in (left) unmyelinated neurons (because of Saltatory conduction). Neurons (or nerve cells) transmit information using electrical and chemical signals.

The film traces the extraordinary effort and devotion of Lorenzo’s parents in seeking some form of treatment for their little boy and how, eventually, they lighted on a fatty acid found in lots of green plants – particularly in the oils from rapeseed and olives. It’s one of the dreaded omega mono-unsaturated fatty acids (if you’re interested, it can be denoted as 22:1ω9, meaning a chain of 22 carbon atoms with one double bond 9 carbons from the end – so it’s ‘unsaturated’). In a dietary combination with oleic acid  (another unsaturated fatty acid: 18:1ω9) it normalizes the accumulation of very long chain fatty acids in the brain and slows the progression of ALD. It did not reverse the neurological damage that had already been done to Lorenzo’s brain but, even so, he lived to the age of 30, some 22 years longer than predicted when he was diagnosed.

What’s going on?

It’s pretty obvious from the story of Lorenzo’s Oil that ALD is a genetic disease and you will have guessed that we wouldn’t have summarized the wonderful career of Christian de Duve had it not turned out that the fault lies in peroxisomes.

The culprit is a gene (called ABCD1) on the X chromosome (so ALD is an X-linked genetic disease). ABCD1 encodes part of the protein channel that carries very long chain fatty acids into peroxisomes. Mutations in ABCD1 (over 500 have been found) cause defective import of fatty acids, resulting in the accumulation of very long chain fatty acids in various tissues. This can lead to irreversible brain damage. In children the myelin sheath of neurons is damaged, causing neurological defects including impaired vision and speech disorders.

And the miracle?

It’s gene therapy of course and, helpfully, we’ve already seen it in action. Self Help – Part 2 described how novel genes can be inserted into the DNA of cells taken from a blood sample. The genetically modified cells (T lymphocytes) are grown in the laboratory and then infused into the patient – in that example the engineered cells carried an artificial T cell receptor that enabled them to target a leukemia.

In Gosh! Wonderful GOSH we saw how the folk at Great Ormond Street Hospital adapted that approach to treat a leukemia in a little girl.

Now David Williams, Florian Eichler, and colleagues from Harvard and many other centres around the world, including GOSH, have adapted these methods to tackle ALD. Again, from a blood sample they selected one type of cell (stem cells that give rise to all blood cell types) and then used genetic engineering to insert a complete, normal copy of the DNA that encodes ABCD1. These cells were then infused into patients. As in the earlier studies, they used a virus (or rather part of a viral genome) to get the new genetic material into cells. They choose a lentivirus for the job – these are a family of retroviruses (i.e. they have RNA genomes) that includes HIV. Specifically they used a commercial vector called Lenti-D. During the life cycle of RNA viruses their genomes are converted to DNA that becomes a permanent part of the host DNA. What’s more, lentiviruses can infect both non-dividing and actively dividing cells, so they’re ideal for the job.

In the first phase of this ongoing, multi-centre trial a total of 17 boys with ALD received Lenti-D gene therapy. After about 30 months, in results reported in October 2017, 15 of the 17 patients were alive and free of major functional disability, with minimal clinical symptoms. Two of the boys with advanced symptoms had died. The achievement of such high remission rates is a real triumph, albeit in a study that will continue for many years.

In tracing this extraordinary galaxy, one further hero merits special mention for he played a critical role in the story. In 1999 Jesse Gelsinger, a teenager, became the first person to receive viral gene therapy. This was for a metabolic defect and modified adenovirus was used as the gene carrier. Despite this method having been extensively tested in a range of animals (and the fact that most humans, without knowing it, are infected with some form of adenovirus), Gelsinger died after his body mounted a massive immune response to the viral vector that caused multiple organ failure and brain death.

This was, of course, a huge set-back for gene therapy. Despite this, the field has advanced significantly in the new century, both in methods of gene delivery (including over 400 adenovirus-based gene therapy trials) and in understanding how to deal with unexpected immune reactions. Even so, to this day the Jesse Gelsinger disaster weighs heavily with those involved in gene therapy for it reminds us all that the field is still in its infancy and that each new step is a venture into the unknown requiring skill, perseverance and bravery from all involved – scientists, doctors and patients. But what better encouragement could there be than the ALD story of young lives restored.

It’s taken us a while to piece together the main threads of this wonderful tale but it’s emerged as a brilliant example of how science proceeds: in tiny steps, usually with no sense of direction. And yet, despite setbacks, over much time, fragments of knowledge come together to find a place in the grand jigsaw of life.

In setting out to probe the recesses of metabolism, Christian de Duve cannot have had any inkling that he would build a foundation on which twenty-first century technology could devise a means of saving youngsters from a truly terrible fate but, my goodness, what a legacy!!!

References

Eichler, F. et al. (2017). Hematopoietic Stem-Cell Gene Therapy for Cerebral Adrenoleukodystrophy. The New England Journal of Medicine 377, 1630-1638.

 

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Mission Impossible?

We make great play in these pages of the wonders of the genetic revolution. So we should. The technology is simply breathtaking, and the amount of data we can gather is so incomprehensibly vast the latest generation of computers is straining at the seams to record it all and, of course, it unveils the vision of a new world. No field has felt the impact more than cancer biology which now holds the promise that, shortly after being found, tumors will be sequenced: on the basis of identified ‘driver’ mutations appropriate drug cocktails will be devised to prevent remission after the initial treatment and these can even be tested in mouse ‘avatars’ to confirm their effectiveness against the patient’s own tumor cells. Finally, even if recurrence sets in at a later date, the same procedure can be repeated and a new drug combo used to target any evolution undergone by the cancer. The era of ‘personalized medicine’ has arrived.

Every Silver Lining …

But there are a few murky clouds drifting across this sky blue portrait of triumph.

  1. The first is that, as we’ve seen in Family Tree of Breast Cancer and Molecular Mosaics, cancers are an incredible mixture – that is, the mutation signature varies depending on the region sampled in primary tumors and is different for individual metastases. This means that a ‘signature’ at best represents a dominant hand of mutations and, worse still, it’s continuously evolving.
  2. The second problem is that, although there are several hundred ‘anti-cancer’ drugs that have been approved for use by the FDA against specific types or stages of cancer, fewer than half a dozen are ‘specific’ – meaning that they hit only tumor cells and leave normal tissue alone. The ‘few’ work because they knock out the activity of mutant proteins that are made only in tumor cells. Notable examples are vemurafinib/Zelboraf (hits the mutated form of BRAF that drives a high proportion of malignant melanomas) and imatinib/Gleevec (blocks the BCR-ABL protein that is formed in most chronic myelogenous leukemias) – and these ‘targetted therapies’ have produced spectacular remissions. Other agents that have attracted much media attention include Herceptin (trastuzumab), a monoclonal antibody that sticks to a protein present in large amounts on the surface of some types of breast cancer cell. This type of agent is highly specific for the protein it targets (i.e. it doesn’t interact with anything else) but it isn’t specific for cancer cells per se. They work because cells heavily loaded with the target get a relatively big hit – a kind of tall poppy syndrome.
  3. Virtually all other chemo agents work on the same principle: in essence they affect every cell they manage to reach and any anti-cancer effect is due to tumor cells being a bit more susceptible. Which is why, of course, the efficacy of any drug combo is to a considerable extent a matter of luck and side effects are such a common problem.
  4. Unquestionably more anti-cancer drugs will be developed, those that do come on line will be more specific and therefore less unpleasant to use, so it may well be that in 20 years time we will have a drug cabinet that is sufficiently well stocked to tackle the major cancers at key stages in their evolution. Which is all well and good but, regardless of how they work and what is meant by ‘specificity’, the biggest problem of all will remain. Resistance – the capacity of tumor cells to neutralize anything that is used with the idea of neutralizing them. They do this by two main routes (1) pumping out the drug and (2) adapting to reduce drug efficacy. The obvious counter is simply to throw more of the drug at them but, in the end, side-effects impose a limit. What this means is that even when drugs have initially startling effects, as do vemurafinib and imatinib, patients eventually become refractive and tumors recur.

MAPK

Cell signalling: cells receive many signals from messengers that attach to receptor proteins spanning the outer membrane. Activated receptors turn on relays of proteins (RAS, A, B, C, D) that talk to the nucleus, switching on genes that drive proliferation. RAS proteins are a focus for many incoming signals and they also set off several relay chains that converge on the nucleus. They work at the cell membrane to which they are escorted from where they’re made by a protein called PDEdelta. A new drug, deltarasin, blocks the escort’s action so that RAS cannot find its way to work and cell growth is arrested.

A Different Line of Attack

In view of that rather gloomy assessment should we try an alternative approach? The personalized scenario involves drug combos tailored to the individual cancer at a given stage of development. But if that seems unlikely to provide a solution remotely near to the ideal, is there another way of selecting targets? Time to try ‘impersonalized medicine’ perhaps?

This notion comes from the thought that what we’re trying to do is block signals that release the brakes on cell proliferation. Many distinct signal pathways impact on the machinery that drives this process, themselves driven by different types of external signal, but it would seem obvious that somewhere along the line these must converge on one or two key regulators – master controllers if you like of cell multiplication. Indeed they do and one of these foci is a protein called RAS (there are three close relatives in the RAS family). RAS is a major junction in cell signalling: many messages from the outside world eventually converge on RAS and lots of pathways radiate from it. When a cell launches itself into the division cycle it does so as an integrated response to these signals.

RAS is mutated to a hyperactive form in about 20% of human cancers (turning on cell growth) so obviously it would be good to have a drug that can hit RAS and an enormous amount of effort has gone into coming up with one. Unfortunately a variety of clever strategies aimed directly at RAS proteins simply haven’t worked. Enter Gunther Zimmermann and his team.

Inhibiting RAS Signalling

RAS proteins do their signaling attached to the inside of the outer membrane of the cell – but they’re made in the interior and to get to their place of work they are escorted to the membrane by a protein called PDEδ (a phosphodiesterase). To upset this cosy arrangement, the Dortmund group developed small molecule, deltarasin, that sticks tightly to the escort which, in response, changes shape just enough to prevent it being able to hold hands  with RAS. The result is that the key signaller (KRAS in fact) is no longer distributed to the membrane. This prevents it working and impairs the growth of KRAS-mutant pancreatic tumour cells.

The great attraction of this approach is that it’s indirect – so the hope is that cells won’t realize that RAS is wandering aimlessly around doing nothing and therefore not simply overwhelm the drug by making more mutant RAS. It remains to be seen how many off-target effects this drug has but for the moment an exciting new idea holds the promise of hitting cancers where it hurts them most – in a key node essential for unregulated cell growth.

References

Baker, N.M. and Der, C.J. (2013). Cancer: Drug for an ‘undruggable’ protein. Nature 497, 577–578.

Zimmermann, G., Papke, B., Ismail, S., Vartak, N., Chandra, A., Hoffmann, M., Hahn, S.A., Triola, G., Wittinghofer, A., Bastiaens, P.I.H. and Waldmann, H. (2013). Small molecule inhibition of the KRAS–PDEδ interaction impairs oncogenic KRAS signaling. Nature 497, 638–642.