MUS
The FASEB Journal • Editorial
“Chronic Lyme” and other medically unexplained syndromes
Diagnosis, n. A physician’s forecast of the disease by the
patient’s pulse and purse.
—Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary, 1911 (1)
ANTI-TRUST AND THE TICK
Last fall, Lyme disease, a tick-borne borreliosis, made
headlines in the business world: “Lyme Disease Guide-
lines Focus of Antitrust Probe.(2)” The attorney gen-
eral of Connecticut threatened to invoke anti-trust laws
against The Infectious Diseases Society of America, of
which a good number are also members of FASEB. It
seems that the Society had issued a set of evidence-
based guidelines for the treatment of Lyme disease,
which discouraged use of intravenous antibiotic ther-
apy for the late, nonspecific, neurological symptoms of
“chronic Lyme disease.”
The infectious disease experts noted that:
In many patients, post-treatment symptoms appear to be
more related to the aches and pains of daily living rather
than to either Lyme disease or a tickborne coinfection. Put
simply, there is a relatively high frequency of the same
kinds of symptoms in “healthy” people (3).
But a few self-proclaimed experts and a vociferous
group of Lyme disease advocacy groups argued that
medical science has it wrong and that the establishment
is denying treatment to desperate patients. The advo-
cates insisted that only vigorous, intravenous antibiotic
therapy can relieve “Lyme victims” of their chronic
pain, fatigue, and neurologic complaints. Diane Blan-
chard, of the Connecticut-based organization “Time for
Lyme,” complained that “These guidelines are becom-
ing the de facto standard of care and that is not OK. We
are all guinea pigs at this point. Why would anyone
think they have all the answers? It’s not right. (2)”
There’s money at stake—since the guidelines have
been endorsed by the Centers for Disease Control and
Prevention, insurers will be unlikely to pay for i.v.
antibiotics.
The attorney general responded to the Lyme advo-
cacy position in business-like fashion, holding that
“These guidelines were set by a panel that essentially
locked out competing points of view. Presumably, the
IDSA is a non-profit making organization, but such
organizations can still be used for anti-competitive
purposes (2).”
He invoked the antitrust laws, and the case is still
open. In fact, the panel of medical scientists had
already looked into “competing points of view.” Citing
properly controlled studies, the panel found no sup-
port for the use of long-term, potentially dangerous
antibiotic therapy in the absence of objective physical
signs or lab abnormalities. They noted that population-
based surveillance in the United States indicated a
mean of 6.1 self-reported unhealthy days during the
preceding month (3). They concluded:
Thus, the presence of arthralgia, myalgia, fatigue, and
other subjective symptoms after treatment for Lyme disease
must be evaluated in the context of “background” com-
plaints in a significant proportion of individuals (4).
This sort of “background” is illustrated by a case-
report written by the complainant herself in a letter to
the editor of a Canadian newspaper:
I had a flu-like illness with severe fatigue, muscle pain,
fever and chills.. . .It lingered on and on for weeks, then
months, then years. There was always chronic pain and
debilitating fatigue that made it impossible to keep
working. The diagnosis was fibromyalgia and later
chronic fatigue syndrome. . . .During those years, I suf-
fered from severe joint and muscle pain and very often
extreme fatigue. Later, after having a very strained
immune system, I developed allergies and multiple chem-
ical sensitivities. Today, 22 years later, after having a
blood test sent to a California lab along with a history of
my symptoms, Lyme disease has been confirmed (5).
There is, of course, no way for a California lab to have
made the diagnosis of Lyme disease on the basis of a
blood test 22 years after a flu-like syndrome, even when
provided with a “history of my symptoms.” No tickee, no
washee as they used to say before Ixodes dammini or
Borrelia burgdorferi were on the map.
FROM PARALYSIS TO FATIGUE
Alas, diagnoses such as chronic Lyme disease, based on
the pulse of the time and the purse of the patient, are
far too common these days. Groups of patients and
advocates march against medical science under the
banners of “chronic fatigue syndrome,” “myalgic en-
cephalitis,” “irritable bowel syndrome,” “total chemical
allergy,” etc. There is no question that patients suffer—
and often terribly—from conditions to which these
labels have been given. There is also no question that
their disability is real. Skeptics worry, however, that the
hallmark of these “diseases” is that diagnosis requires
the complete absence of objective physical or biochem-
ical derangement. They wonder whether such patients
are not really victims of a complex set of socially and
medically constructed diseases—much as the “railway
spine,” “chronic appendicitis,” or “female hysteria”
favored by 19th century clinicians. These doubts are
summarized in Edward Shorter’s From Paralysis to Fa-
tigue : A History of Psychosomatic Illness in the Modern Era”:
Although the amplification of normal bodily symptoms
and phobias about disease have existed in all times and
places, it is this delusional clinging to the belief in a given
illness, that marks the last decades of the twentieth
century (6).
Shorter is persuaded that social templates shape
medical fashion and that medical fashion shapes the
symptoms that patients select. Those symptoms—such
as fatigue, weakness, tinglings, insomnia, etc.— could, of
course, be produced by organic disease; that’s exactly
why they tug so hard at our diagnostic sleeve. The
victim of chronic Lyme disease is in very real pain— but
of the mind—and the mind chooses symptoms that will
be taken as evidence of physical disease and that will
win the patient an appropriate response:
Thus most of the symptoms . . . have always been known
to Western society, although they have occurred at differ-
ent times with different frequencies: Society does not
invent symptoms; it retrieves them from the symptom pool
(6).
MEDICALLY UNEXPLAINED SYNDROMES
The British psychiatrist, Simon Wessely of King’s Col-
lege, London, argues that most medical specialties
define unexplained syndromes in the technical terms
of their own specialty. Presented with the same cluster
of symptoms by a patient, what a rheumatologist will
call “fibromyalgia,” a gastroenterologist would diagnose
as “irritable bowel syndrome,” while a neurologist
might come up with “chronic fatigue syndrome,” and a
dabbler in infectious disease would label it as “chronic
Lyme disease.” Wessely provides convincing evidence
that none of these monickers describes a unique clini-
cal entity. Indeed, each syndrome shares much with all
the others: muscle weakness, arthralgias, and overall
fatigue— the repertoire of symptoms in “chronic Lyme
disease.” Skip the label, Wessely advises, it’s better to
describe these conditions, honestly, as “medically unex-
plained syndromes (7).”
Others have debated whether it helps patients to
have labels such as “fibromyagia,” “chronic Lyme dis-
ease,” “total chemical allergy,” or “chronic fatigue syn-
drome (CFS)” pinned on their ills. Henninsen et al.
have suggested that:
The answer to the question of “to label or not to label” may
turn out to depend not on the label, but on what that label
implies. It is acceptable and often beneficial to make
diagnoses such as CFS, provided that this is the begin-
ning, and not the end, of the therapeutic encounter (8).
That encounter does not include intravenous antibi-
otic therapy for medically unexplained syndromes.
ZEITGEIST IS AS ZEITGEIST DOES
Chronic fatigue syndromes are also found in children;
the condition might be called “Mu¨ nchhausen’s fatigue
by proxy.” A British study found that children are most
likely to develop CFS in the autumn term when they
start secondary school: seventy-six percent of children
developed CFS between September and December. On
average, the children, who were otherwise healthy, were
11 years-old when the illness began, coinciding with the
move to secondary school (9). Since infective diseases
in childhood are far more common in kids from poor
families, it was noteworthy that most of the sufferers of
childhood CSF were from “higher socio-economic”
(i.e., rich) families. That seems to be true for most
other medically unexplained physical syndromes, such
as chronic Lyme disease. Indeed, the direct correlation
between income and fatigue syndromes is an argument
for the social-construction hypothesis vs. the usual
“infective” or “somatic” etiology of these troubling
conditions (8). Score one for the Infectious Disease
experts: social construction is not amenable to intrave-
nous antibiotic therapy.
Shorter explained the historical patterns into which
those unexplained syndromes fall; patients tend to
introject the bad dreams of their Zeitgeist, paralysis in
the old days of syphilis, fatigue in the era of AIDS (6).
He warns doctors not to regard “patients with ‘somato-
form’ symptoms as bizarre objects but as individuals
who enjoy the dignity that all disease confers.” On the
other hand, doctors tend to be impatient with those
who come to them with inexplicable symptoms. No tick,
no fever, no rash, no changes in the spinal fluid equals
no disease, they feel. No wonder doctors are often at
odds with their patients, who, in the words of Sarah
Nettleton of York University, “just want permission to
be ill:”
Indeed, society does not readily grant permission to be ill
in the absence of disease.. . .an appreciation of the
experience of such embodied doubt articulated by people
who live with medically unexplained diseases may have a
more general applicability to the analysis of social life
under conditions of late modernity (10).
LIKE A HOLE IN THE HEAD
But patients with medically unexplained disease con-
tinue to suffer, each in the fashion of the day, each in
search of the most radical remedy, be it cauteries or
antibiotics. Perhaps the saddest response to pain sans
disease was reported a while ago by Reuters:
“Briton Cures Fatigue by Drilling Hole in Own Head.
February 22, 2000. LONDON (Reuters)—A British
woman says she has cured her chronic fatigue by resorting
to do-it-yourself brain surgery and drilling a hole in her
own head. Heather Perry, 29, performed the ancient
technique of trepanning, cutting away a section of the
scalp and drilling into the skull (11).
Perry tried to rid herself of her chronic fatigue
syndrome by drilling a two centimeter hole in order “to
permit blood to flow more easily around the brain.” But
the operation went wrong when she drilled too far and
penetrated the dura mata. British doctors had refused
to help Perry with the ancient procedure, so she flew to
an unnamed location in the United States, where she
was given medical advice and then did it herself. She
said the 20-minute operation had improved her quality
of life.
I have no regrets. I was prone to occasional bouts of
depression and felt something radical needed to be done,
said Perry, who performed the operation under local
anaesthetic in front of a mirror and a camera crew.
(What a segment for TV! On to Oprah or Larry
King) I felt the effects immediately, I can’t say they have
been particularly dramatic but they are there. I generally
feel better and there’s definitely more mental clarity. I feel
wonderful (11).
Trepanning for fatigue has as little support in science
as the intravenous antibiotic therapy urged on the
Attorney General of Connecticut, but it does have the
advantage of not adding to the expenses of Britain’s
National Health Service or American insurers. The
Devil’s Dictionary requires revision: nowadays diagnosis
falls under the anti-trust laws, while the pulse and the
purse are those of the public.
Gerald Weissmann
Editor-in-Chief
doi: 10.1096/fj.07-0201ufm
REFERENCES
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11. Reuters (February 22, 2000) Briton cures fatigue by drilling hole
in own head. London.
http://www.fasebj.org/cgi/reprint/21/2/299