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Enter Brandt, 43, intelligent but unintimidating. Long
fascinated by the physiological aspects of memory disorder,
Brandt started delving into amnesia, Alzheimer's and dementia
while a graduate student at Boston University. Upon joining the
Johns Hopkins faculty in 1981, he began focusing on HD, a
disease that he says provides "an almost unique opportunity to
study how a deterioration of systems in the brain could result
in cognitive, emotional and movement problems."
After an hourlong private session with Brandt, Jack admits, "I'm
glad there's counseling involved. Some stories he told gave me
some insight." But, given the turmoil in Jack's life, is this an
appropriate time for him to undergo a potentially devastating
test? "I see our job as ruling out only people who clearly have
psychological disorders that make them vulnerable to the stress
and put them at risk for catastrophic outcomes," Brandt answers.
"Then my job is raising issues, helping people reason it
through, rather than being the gatekeeper." It is Brandt's
experience that people rarely make a major life overhaul as a
result of the test. It now seems clear that Jack will proceed to
dna analysis.
Since the program began in 1986 at Johns Hopkins, only five
people have been denied testing, with an invitation to return
later. "We've been accused of being paternalistic," says Brandt,
"but nothing compels my team to do the test. We have to be
ethically responsible." One turned away: an unemployed woman,
newly relocated to Baltimore, who had a history of
self-destructive behavior, eating disorders and possible alcohol
abuse. Told that her testing would be postponed, she became so
distraught that Brandt feared she would smash a glass table in
his office. A year later, after settling into a home and a job,
she was accepted for testing. When the news was bad, says
Brandt, "she took it very well and thanked us for making her
wait. She said, 'I couldn't have accepted it before as well as I
can now.'" She is currently studying for the ministry.
Such time-elapse vignettes buttress Brandt's conviction that
rigorous procedures are essential for effective testing. His
program requires participants, who must be over age 18, to
undergo a battery of psychological exams. During counseling it
is stressed that the test is elective and the result
confidential (a key concern for people who worry about health
insurance). Misconceptions are dispelled: a positive result does
not mean you are currently afflicted. And the strenuous
post-test requirements--a visit every three months the first
year and every six months the following two years--are made
clear. To date, 183 have been tested; almost twice that number
have not kept appointments or have dropped out. "That's their
way of telling us they don't really want the test," says Brandt.
"We think of that as a success."
Brandt's painstaking preparation is showing promising results.
Of the 63 participants who tested positive, only two have
required psychiatric hospitalization, in both cases after the
onset of symptoms. Still, not all the others who now show
symptoms are having an easy time. A team social worker
occasionally has had to bail a patient out of jail. "People make
bad decisions," says Brandt, "especially in the early part of
the disease."
The team had hoped to be able to predict accurately both how
people would test and how they would cope on receiving the
results. "So far," says Brandt, "it's been a bust." The only
predictor of test results remains age; since HD typically hits
between ages 30 and 50, the older the person, the higher the
chance of a negative result. As for predicting people's
reactions, most preliminary hypotheses have been replaced by new
ones. Contrary to expectations, for instance, married people
have a harder time coping with bad news than singles (perhaps
they worry about becoming a burden to their spouse); parents
weather bad news better than childless adults (maybe the
childless are newly disturbed by thoughts of never having a
child).
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