drug trial Archives – Anarchy and Autoimmunity

When I was first diagnosed with dermatomyositis, I felt hopeless about the prospects of humankind ever developing a drug specifically for my orphan disease. What profit-seeking entity would throw money at a disease so rare it makes lupus look like a pandemic? What congressional representative could justify spending taxes researching an autoimmune condition that may not even exist in the district they represent?

Could I count on the benevolence of strangers? Should I expect self-interested organisms hellbent on survival to be interested in preserving, or at least, improving, a genetically malformed member of their species?

In fall 2019, I received a call from Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, Arizona. A dermatologist there wanted to enroll me in a phase 3 clinical trial for a drug developed for dermatomyositis and other rare inflammatory conditions.

I jumped at the opportunity. Any new drug had a strong chance of being an improvement over the azathioprine I had been taking.

Becoming a guinea pig

When the trial started, many asked if I was nervous about ingesting a substance not yet approved by the Food and Drug Administration. The answer was a resounding no.

For one thing, dermatomyositis is life-altering and irritating enough that I would prefer side effects from any drug–including the azathioprine I already take.

Azathioprine is classified by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services as a carcinogen. According to the Mayo Clinic dermatologist, spending 35 years on the medicine I have been on, azathioprine, virtually guarantees I will end up with skin cancer before I turn 70. Other studies confirm risks of skin cancer and lymphoma. The sooner I can rid my body of azathioprine, the better.

Even then, as an anarchist, an agency stamp on a drug means little to me. Many of the FDA-approved autoimmune treatments carry risks of depression, insomnia, even death. A woman with arthritis I used to work with on rituximab was hospitalized after the medicine caused Guillain-Barre syndrome. And there is not one autoimmune treatment on the planet that does not put the patient at risk for humanity’s latest afflictions, COVID-19 and monkeypox.

Even if all pharmaceutical companies cared about was money, they have no incentive to kill or harm their customers. And even if a company were okay rushing drugs to market in search of short-term gains, a single nasty side effect from a single drug could ruin a billion-dollar corporation. Profits would be spent settling lawsuits. Few doctors or patients would ever trust the company again.

Finally, the drug I tested, lenabasum, had entered phase 3 clinical trials. By the time a drug reaches this late phase, it has already undergone years of safety and efficacy testing.

Schedule I substances

Lenabasum is ajulemic acid, synthetic cannabinoid designed to attack the severe inflammation and muscle degeneration associated with dermatomyositis. Yes, it is derived from cannabis, making it a Schedule I substance. In short, that means the federal government recognizes no acceptable medical use for it. Merely possessing the drug can land you 10 years in prison.

I have no idea how exceptions for this work, especially in the era of marijuana legalization, but the trial drug was definitely treated like contraband. The pharmacist had to hand deliver it to the patient, me, inside the study coordinator’s office. I was required to sign that I received and accepted the drug. The pharmacist had to affirm she gave it to me.

Lost in the insanity of this procedure was that the manufacturer had removed the pscyhoactive component of cannabis, tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). And even if they had not, I can buy recreational or medicinal cannabis containing ample THC at a strip-mall shop 3 miles from my house.

Perhaps even more hilariously, during the height of COVID-19, Mayo Clinic was shut down to any non-emergency use, and the pharmacist started shipping the scheduled substance to my house. Adhering to the strictest DEA definitions, this meant the pharmacist, the mailman, Mayo Clinic, and the U.S. Postal Service, were trafficking drugs.

Less guinea pig, more zoo exhibit

When I started the trial in February 2020, the violet-red Gottron papules adorning my knuckles were severely inflamed. They alone qualified me for the trial and turned me into a traveling zoo exhibit for medical students. Little in patient life underscores how different you are from everyone else like being introduced to a parade of twenty- and thirty-somethings for the first time as a textbook example.

Little in patient life underscores how different you are from everyone else like being introduced to a parade of twenty- and thirty-somethings for the first time as a textbook example.

To track adverse reactions, every visit, I filled out a 150-question survey, most of which were about itching and mental health. They also drew about six tubes of blood for every lab visit. Unlike labs ordered by me or my doctor, I was never able to see any of my results.

Apart from these procedures, the bimonthly study visits varied little from any other medical appointments. Admittedly, I looked forward to my visits. I enjoyed talking to someone who knew more about dermatomyositis than me for once.

Answering the $30,000-per-year question

Three months into the double-blind drug trial, the papules had all but disappeared. Hair loss slowed down. My scalp barely ever itched. I was even able to decrease my daily dose of azathioprine. I thought for sure I was on the lenabasum and that it had worked.

I was wrong.

In June 2021, the study coordinator phoned to inform me Corbus Pharmaceuticals, the drug manufacturer, canceled the trial. They had not seen the results needed to justify spending millions more to develop and market a drug that would cost patients or insurance companies tens of thousands of dollars per year.

The study coordinator also told me I had been on a placebo. Any improvements the dermatologist, my rheumatologist, and I observed had nothing to do with the lenabasum.

Though I was mildly disappointed, this was actually good news. Not only had my immune system backed off, but it did so while significantly decreasing my dose of azathioprine.

Further, despite lenabasum containing no THC, throughout the drug trial, I felt drained and unmotivated. Because the study overlapped the social withdrawal from worldwide quarantines and one-size-fits-all policies to prevent the spread of COVID-19, no one can say for sure if the lenabasum caused those feelings. That said, other patients reported similar side effects. Regardless, I was happy to rid my body and mind of anything that had contributed to 14 months of lethargy.

It would have been nice if lenabasum truly worked, but even if it had, insurance companies would have been reluctant to cover such an expensive drug.

Would it have been nice if the new drug worked? Yes. But even if it had, I am not certain it stood a future. Insurance companies would have used any excuse to avoid paying the $30,000 per year lenabasum would no doubt fetch following FDA approval. That would include remaining on the azathioprine that had worked all along and could be bought at prices even developing nations could afford. Cancer risks be damned.

The masses have taken to Facebook and Twitter to proclaim in pictures the virtues of getting their COVID-19 vaccinations. The elites are no better. In the greatest example of state leaders’ unrelenting narcissism and presumptuousness since Marie Antoinette, United States Vice President Kamala Harris even had her vaccine ceremoniously injected at the National Institutes for Health—naturally, long before us peons had access to 2021’s panacea.

As a friend wryly pointed out, what’s next? Are we to expect photographic evidence of people’s prostate exams and pap smears?

The connected world is a peculiar place—ideological bubbles, cancel culture, virtue signaling, social conformity in degrees Goebbels and the Glavlit could only dream. Social media influencers have become the twenty-first-century equivalent of the cool kids pressuring the isolated and awkward into taking up street drugs to dull the pain of an increasingly alienated existence.

At the risk of sounding like a conspiracy theorist, it’s no secret that big pharma, governments, and media have been inseparably intertwined throughout the pandemic like polyamorous lovers in a threesome-themed porno. All have advocated for prolonging prophylactic measures while pushing the SARS-CoV-2 vaccine onto an unsuspecting, scientifically illiterate populace. For them, their vaccine is their final solution for permitting us to returning us to a normal life.

Big pharma, governments, and media have advocated for prolonging prophylactic measures while pushing SARS-CoV-2 vaccines onto an unsuspecting, scientifically illiterate populace. For them, the various COVID-19 vaccines are their final solution for permitting us to returning us to a normal life.

But is it really? How safe can a vaccine rushed through emergency clinical trials really be? How are we supposed to trust the science done by pharmaceutical companies who stand to make billions? How can we trust the opinions of political elites, including Harris, who often take campaign contributions from these megacorporations?

Thoroughly tested vaccines are wonderful

Vaccines, in and of themselves, rank within humankind’s top five inventions. They brought an end to smallpox and polio and minimized the impact of dozens of other pathogens, dramatically extending life expectancy.

But each vaccine needs to be cautiously assessed on its own merits and never taken lightly. In the right hands, they are miracles. In altered forms, in the wrong hands, they could become biological weapons.

Each vaccine needs to be cautiously assessed on its own merits.

One can hardly accuse Pfizer and Moderna of anything but the best of intentions. After all, we’re tired of sitting scared at home, and if their vaccines truly remedy our boredom and return purpose to our lives, we should be pounding on the glass lobby doors to distribute the vaccine.

That said, I will not be the first in line.

But what about ones rushed through trials?

I get that deadly emerging infectious diseases call for expedient solutions. In fact, in concert with scientists and doctors far better credentialed than me, I once managed and co-authored a proposal to Anthony Fauci’s National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases to create a center just for that.

But SARS-CoV-2 is not the Ebola virus. Only 1.65 percent of the world’s population has even reported contracting the virus. Only .03 percent died from it. 99.97 percent of the world’s population has survived letting the human immune system take its natural course.

While the COVID-19 vaccines appear to be relatively safe for now, the long-term consequences of the vaccine cannot possibly be known less than a year after their invention.

An while the vaccines appear to be relatively safe for now, the long-term consequences of the vaccine cannot possibly be known less than a year after their invention. Only 5 in 5,000 drugs that enter preclinical testing—usually done on lab animals—ever make it to human testing. Of those, only 1 in 5 is approved. And this process usually takes 12 years. Whether you agree with the Food and Drug Administration’s (FDA) decade-plus process or not, it exists to protect human lives.

So why the rush?

Because COVID-19 is a public health emergency, according to the FDA. They assure us, “efforts to speed vaccine development to address the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic have not sacrificed scientific standards, integrity of the vaccine review process, or safety.”

So if a vaccine can be approved in less than a year, then why does it take so long to test and approve everything else? Should we skeptical of the emergency approval process? Or skeptical or the standard approval process?

Let’s assume this is a resourcing problem. The government has thrown trillions of dollars and thousands of people at COVID-19 to expedite processes usually overseen by a couple hundred.

But as even COVID-19 vaccine proponents agree, even with a rigorous approval process, because we have only been distributing vaccines for a couple months, we cannot possibly know the vaccine’s long-term side effects or effectiveness (some are already claiming the virus will mutate) nor its side effects on those of us with pre-existing conditions, like dermatomyositis.

To vaccinate or not—a choice best left to each individual

Ultimately, the choice to vaccinate must be left up to the individual (or her guardian, at least). Like anything in life, she must weigh the risks against the outcome. She must ignore the peer pressure and the Kamala Harrises of the world. She must consider her own body and lifestyle and make the best choice for her.

As for me? I’m waiting for more testing on the immunosuppressed. One drug trial is enough for now.

Anarchy and Autoimmunity

Tag: drug trial

Eighteen months in a dermatomyositis drug trial