MDA
researcher Carsten Bonnemann, at Children's
Hospital of Philadelphia, is looking beyond
the muscle cell and finding connections
among congenital muscular dystrophies. Photos
by Addison Geary
Just a few years ago, almost nothing could be said to
parents like those in “Families Left With Questions,” other
than that their child had a congenital (present at or near
birth) form of muscular dystrophy.
Andrew Loewi of Denver compares research on his daughter
Samantha’s congenital MD (CMD) to Duchenne MD, for which the gene
was identified in 1986. “What was so discouraging, so exasperating,
for us, was that without even knowing what gene was involved, it seemed
we were so far behind the eight ball that we’d never catch up.”
Doctors and scientists shared their frustrations throughout
the 20th century. But several answers have emerged recently.
'Too Much to Hope For'
In 1903, London physician Frederick Batten described
a muscle disease of congenital onset, characterized by a lack of muscle
power and tone, contracted joints and normal intelligence.
Over the next several decades, doctors described sets
of symptoms (syndromes) that they hoped represented unique genetic muscle
diseases of congenital onset.
In
the 1990s, scientists learned that clusters
of sarcoglycan and dystroglycan protein
molecules poked through the muscle cell
membrane, with dystrophin, just inside
the cell, attached.
German physician Otto Ullrich reported in 1930 on children
with a congenital atonic (without tone), sclerotic (with hardened scar
tissue) muscle condition, curiously also characterized by highly flexible
fingers and only mild weakness of the large muscles.
Then in Japan, in 1960, Yukio Fukuyama described a form
of CMD that attacked not only muscles but the central nervous system,
with severe mental retardation a frequent finding. About the same time,
doctors in Finland called a similar syndrome muscle-eye-brain disease,
and elsewhere another such set of symptoms was called Walker-Warburg
syndrome. (North American physician Arthur Walker and Danish ophthalmologist
Mette Warburg are credited with identifying this last.)
But as late as 1986, writing in the second edition
of A Clinician’s View of Neuromuscular Diseases,
Michael Brooke, now a professor emeritus at the University of Edmonton
in Alberta, Canada, admitted he remained frustrated by the plethora
of descriptions of CMDs and the blurring of the lines between them.
Michael Brooke
Kevin Campbell
“Just when I think I have the entities clearly
in mind, a new patient comes along with features common to more than
one of these entities,” he wrote. “What is badly needed
is some irrefutable biochemical test which will separate the diseases
one from the other. This, of course, is too much to hope for ...”
Brooke, however, wouldn’t have to wait quite as
long as he feared for progress on understanding congenital MDs at genetic
and molecular levels.
Mapping the Membrane
The year that Brooke published his clinical textbook,
MDA-supported researchers working in the laboratory of Louis Kunkel
at Children’s Hospital in Boston identified mutations in a large,
X chromosome gene for a protein that would come to be known as dystrophin as the underlying cause of Duchenne muscular dystrophy, a common and
severe childhood form of MD.
Dystrophin, it was soon discovered, lies just under
the muscle cell membrane, a thin sac that encloses muscle cells and
determines which substances can enter and leave them.
As early as 1989, researchers in the laboratory of Kevin
Campbell, an MDA-funded protein chemist at the University of Iowa, had
found that dystrophin is attached to the membrane — not directly,
but through another compound they called a glycoprotein, because
it was combined with sugar (glyco) molecules.
By the mid-1990s, Campbell and others had described
four other membrane-embedded proteins, which came to be known as sarcoglycans,
and a two-part protein that Campbell named dystroglycan. All
these proteins had sugar branches protruding from their surfaces, and
dystroglycan had one section stuck in the membrane and another protruding
into the gluelike substance outside the cell — the extracellular
matrix.
It was also becoming clear that the proteins in this
membrane complex (cluster) — each of which is made by a different
gene — closely interacted with one another, and that the loss
of any of them affected the ability of this dystrophin-glycoprotein
complex (DGC) to assemble. As a result, the muscle cell membrane
was weakened and its function impaired. (Loss of any of the four sarcoglycans
leads to limb-girdle MD.)
Moving On Up — and Out
Beyond the cell membrane, in the extracellular matrix,
lie proteins called laminins (layers) and collagens (glue makers), among other things. Also beyond the cell membrane is
another, tougher membrane, itself made of two layers, the basal and the reticular (netlike) lamina. Laminin 2 (merosin) sticks up out of the DGC and into the basal lamina.
In 1993, Campbell and another MDA grantee, James Ervasti,
showed that dystroglycan, the sugary protein that protruded from the
muscle cell membrane, interacted closely with the muscle form of laminin
outside the cell. (At the time, the laminin found in muscle tissue was
widely known as merosin, though it was soon to be rechristened laminin 2.)
At the time, French physician Fernando Tome was looking
at biopsy samples from children with CMD and normal brain function.
He noted that merosin was absent in 13 of them.
Tome visited Campbell’s lab just after the finding
that dystroglycan was bound to merosin, and he wondered if merosin deficiency
could be the direct cause of the CMD in his patients.
In
1995, researchers identified defects in
the laminin alpha-2 chain of laminin 2
(merosin) as a cause of congenital MD.
Without its vertical center, the crosslike
laminin 2 can't form, and the connection
between dystroglycan and the basal lamina
is lost.
In 1995, Tome, as part of a group based at the Pitie-Salpetriere
Hospital in Paris, published a paper showing that one of three of merosin’s
protein chains, made from a gene on chromosome 6, could, when flawed,
cause CMD. The protein, the alpha-2 chain, is in the center of a three-chain
structure. The other chains, from two different
genes, were intact in Tome’s patients, but without the center
strand, they were unanchored and useless to the cell.
The first dot -— a specific protein defect linked
to a congenital MD — had been drawn, and physicians began to describe
congenital MD as either merosin-deficient or merosin-positive.
The classification didn’t help much in predicting the course of
the disease and turned out to be confusing because merosin can be deficient
for reasons other than the chromosome 6 gene mutations. But it was a
start.
The Collagen Connection
As the 20th century came to an end, most investigators
had forgotten about Otto Ullrich’s 1930 paper. Ullrich had described
a congenital-onset muscular dystrophy, with normal intelligence, a striking
combination of contractures in some joints and laxity in others, reduced
bone density, and skin that contained rough patches with raised bumps
resembling sandpaper on the thighs, shins and upper arms, with velvety,
smooth skin on the soles and palms.
By
2003, it was clear that mutations in collagen
6, a three-stranded, ropelike protein
woven through the reticular and basal
laminae, were another cause of congenital
MD.
In the early 1990s, Carsten Bonnemann, born and trained
in pediatrics in Germany, came to the United States to undertake postgraduate
training in child neurology at Massachusetts General Hospital and Children’s
Hospital in Boston, and later a program in genetics in Kunkel’s
laboratory at Children’s.
“Kunkel set me onto the dystrophin-associated
glycoproteins,” Bonnemann recalls, “because, at the time,
that was just coming up. And I identified the beta-sarcoglycan gene.
“The sarcoglycans stick out through the cell
membrane, and unlike dystroglycan, they don’t have a ligand [attaching
molecule] binding to them. They stick out and look like orphans that
should be binding to something in the matrix. That’s how I got
interested in the extracellular matrix.”
Bonnemann and other researchers are searching for a
link from the sarcoglycans to the extracellular matrix that may be parallel
to the dystroglycan-merosin link.
In 2000, back in Germany, he began seeing patients with
the syndrome Ullrich had described long ago. Because of their joint
laxity, they reminded him of a connective tissue disorder called Ehlers-Danlos
syndrome and also of a family he’d seen in Boston. Members of
the Boston family had a known defect in one of the collagen proteins,
with severe joint abnormalities and mild muscle problems.
Bonnemann wondered whether the patients with joint and
muscle symptoms described by Ullrich could also have a collagen defect.
Fukutin, fukutin-related protein,
POMT1 and POMGnT1 are all involved in the sugar coating of
dystroglycan. Without their contributions, dystroglycan loses
its ability to stick to laminin 2, and congenital MD, sometimes
accompanied by eye or brain abnormalities, results.
Two years later, back in the States, this time at Children’s
Hospital of Philadelphia, Bonnemann saw other children with congenital-onset
weakness and marked contractures in some joints, combined with joint
laxity elsewhere. Many had gone without a diagnosis for some time.
“They often had an odyssey through genetics clinics
and connective tissue clinics,” Bonnemann says, “with nobody
really coming up with a diagnosis.” Bonnemann recognized them
as having Ullrich congenital MD.
“Once you’ve seen these patients, it’s
recognizable as a unique disease,” he says. “It’s
probably one of the more common forms of congenital muscular dystrophy
— in this country probably more common than merosin deficiency.”
Based on the appearance of the patients, Bonnemann
suspected collagen was involved — a hunch that turned out to be
correct.
Mutations that affect collagen 6, one of more than 25
collagen types, were found to cause Ullrich CMD by researchers in Italy
in 2001, investigators in France in 2002, and a Philadelphia-based team
that included Bonnemann in 2003.
Postdoctoral
student Yaqun Zou and Carsten Bonnemann
discuss their Ullrich CMD research.
Like laminin 2, collagen 6 is made up of three chains,
alpha-1, 2 and 3, each arising from a different gene. Mutations in any
of the three can disrupt the triple-stranded molecule and lead to connective
tissue, muscle, skin and bone abnormalities. Depending on the type of
genetic mutation (but not on the gene), the resulting disorder can be
Ullrich CMD or Bethlem myopathy, a less severe version of the same disorder,
with a somewhat later onset.
Collagen 6, Bonnemann says, is attached to the basal
lamina. But, “It seems to be reaching into the basal lamina, coming
from the outside, from further outside the cell.”
A second dot was on the CMD drawing board, and lines
could be drawn connecting it to collagen 6. Of equal importance, lines
now connected two forms of CMD to the extracellular matrix, and to each
other.
The Sugar Connection
At the end of the 20th century, a lot of progress had
been made in classifying the congenital MDs, but one glaring question
remained: Why did some CMDs, such as Fukuyama CMD, muscle-eye-brain
disease (MEB) and Walker-Warburg syndrome (WWS), involve the brain and
eyes, while others, such as the collagen-deficient Ullrich CMD and merosin-deficient
CMD due to alpha-2 chain mutations, apparently didn’t?
(Some forms of merosin-deficient CMD lack merosin as
a secondary effect of the disruption of another protein. Unless that
protein is known, the course of these merosin-deficient CMDs is uncertain.)
In 1998, Japanese researchers had identified a chromosome
9 gene for a protein they dubbed fukutin as the cause of Fukuyama
CMD.
Then, in 2001, researchers at Hammersmith Hospital in
London described patients with a severe CMD without brain involvement,
and found that their disease was due to mutations in a chromosome 19
gene for a protein that closely resembled, but wasn’t, fukutin.
They called it fukutin-related protein (FKRP).
They also noticed something else. Biopsies of these
patients showed that laminin 2 was missing from its usual place protruding
from dystroglycan, and that the part of dystroglycan that sticks out
of the membrane didn’t look normal. When the sample was stained,
dystroglycan showed up only faintly, and other tests showed it was markedly
under its usual molecular weight.
The investigators, led by Francesco Muntoni, added a
third dot to the CMD picture by proposing that fukutin-related protein
might be involved in the sugar coating — glycosylation — of dystroglycan, and that its absence might result in a denuded
dystroglycan incapable of sticking to laminin 2.
Scientists also found that fukutin was involved in glycosylation.
Glycosylation is a common process in cells, involving a variety of enzymes,
proteins that bring other compounds together or break them apart.
In 2001, researchers in Yokohama, Japan, described something
that got everyone’s attention: a rare type of protein glycosylation
operating in the nervous system and in muscles, catalyzed by the enzyme
POMGnT1. They identified six different mutations in the gene for POMGnT1,
each of which led to MEB, a CMD that Finnish investigators had described
decades earlier.
Clearly, inadequate glycosylation of dystroglycan was
the culprit in more than one form of CMD. Dots number 4, 5 and 6, closely
connected to each other, to the DGC and to the extracellular matrix,
could now be added to the enlarging diagram of this group of congenital
disorders.
More evidence arrived the following year, when a group
based at University Medical Centre in Nijmegen, the Netherlands, identified
mutations in a gene for a glycosylation enzyme called POMT1 as the cause
of Walker-Warburg syndrome in six people. POMT1’s function, as
its name implies, is similar to that of POMGnT1, but it’s a different
enzyme, arising from a different gene. Make that dot number 7.
A sugar-coated dystroglycan, it seemed, was necessary
to brain and eye development as well as to muscles, so it wasn’t
surprising that Fukuyama CMD, WWS and MEB affected all three systems.
What remained puzzling was that FKRP-deficient CMD, also a glycosylation
disorder, didn’t.
Research in the last couple of years has cleared up
this mystery, even though it has ironically made predicting the course
and severity of an individual case of CMD more difficult.
The research has shown that it isn’t the particular
gene or glycosylation protein that matters when it comes to brain involvement,
but the nature of the gene defect, or mutation. In 2004, for example,
it became clear that some mutations in the FKRP gene can lead to a disease
that’s indistinguishable from MEB and WWS, while other mutations
affect only muscle tissue.
Creating More Connections
Carsten
Bonnemann's interest in how muscle membrane
proteins interact with the extracellular
matrix led him to identify the cause of
Ullrich CMD.
Of course, the question on the minds of parents and
doctors is still: What can be done to treat congenital MDs?
Right now, the available treatments are supportive.
Physical therapy, spine-straightening and contracture-releasing surgery,
good respiratory care, including assisted ventilation in some cases,
are the mainstays.
Life span, Bonnemann says, is a “moving target”
in Ullrich CMD.
“If you look in the old literature, the life span
was into the second decade, and then they would die from respiratory
complications,” he says. “But since we are now much better
in getting on top of the pulmonary complications, the life span remains
to be seen.
“We have one patient here who’s now 23,
with a really severe form of Ullrich CMD. He uses a wheelchair and has
many contractures, but he’s stable, with nighttime BiPAP [noninvasive
assisted ventilation]. He has his own car and is an engineering major
at Villanova College here.”
Research advances could make the future even brighter.
In 2004, Kevin Campbell’s group added a glycosyltransferase that
goes by the acronym LARGE to cells taken from people with several glycosylation-deficient
forms of CMD, and found that sugaring of dystroglycan, as well as integrity
of its connections, were restored.
And just last year, MDA grantees Chunping Qiao and Xiao
Xiao at the University of Pittsburgh found that mice missing the laminin
alpha-2 chain were substantially improved by the addition of genes for
a protein called agrin, which may in part compensate for the
absence of laminin 2. They used the agrin gene in a miniaturized form,
because it's technically easier to work with than a laminin gene and
because agrin is less likely to be rejected by the immune system where
the laminin has been missing from birth.
Families
Left With Questions
Samantha
Shortly after Denver couple Pat and Andrew Loewi
adopted Samantha in 1989, they began to suspect that something
was wrong.
Pat had a daughter from an earlier marriage, and
she knew this baby wasn’t developing the same way Kim had.
“She never crawled and didn’t move much, didn’t
roll much, and yet she walked, with help, at 9 months,”
Pat says.
In May 1991, the Loewis took 18-month-old Samantha
to Children’s Hospital in Denver, where a physical exam
immediately made the doctor suspect she had muscular dystrophy.
A month later, a muscle biopsy confirmed the diagnosis but added
little more, other than that the dystrophy wasn’t Duchenne.
Kendle
Born in 2002, Kendle is the first child of Robbie
and Kristy Haught, in Washington, Pa., a suburb of Pittsburgh.
“When she was born, she was really floppy,
really loose,” Kristy says. “At 2 months, I was concerned
something was wrong, because she wasn’t holding her head
up at all.” At 4 months, Kendle was admitted to Children’s
Hospital of Pittsburgh for six days of tests; only a muscle biopsy
provided any answers.
The biopsy showed muscular dystrophy, which provided
relief to the Haughts, who had been reading about type 1 spinal
muscular atrophy, a condition that often takes the lives of young
children. Kendle’s disease, the doctors said, had a better
prognosis than SMA, but they were uncertain what the future would
hold.
Robyn
In San Jose, Calif., four
years ago, Aarica and Oscar Gutierrez were asking some of the
same questions about their baby, Robyn. Doctors said Robyn had
low muscle tone (hypotonia). At home, Robyn was floppy, and her
joints seemed very mobile, with fingers that bent back all the
way and feet that bent back to her shins. On each shin was a patch
of rough skin that looked to her parents like goose bumps.
She sat at 7 months and pulled herself to a standing
position at 13 months. Her cognitive development, speech and vision
were normal.
Her mother recalls, “At a year old, we were
actually starting to get excited by the fact that she could pull
up and could do some things, and I was really believing that she
was just hypotonic, like the doctors said. Everything I read said
that usually, by the time they’re 2 years old or a little
past that, they’ll be fine.
“But after she hit the 18-month mark, we
knew that wasn’t going to be the case.”
As she grew and gained weight, Robyn lost the
ability to sit on her own and to pull up using the coffee table.
She walked, but with bent knees, an awkward gait and frequent
falls.
Some
Answers
Samantha
Samantha Loewi now has a specific,
DNA-based diagnosis, but it took 15 years to arrive at it.
Now 16 and a sophomore in high school,
she takes honors classes and plays the soprano saxophone and bass
guitar. She has Ullrich CMD, with a mutation in a collagen 6 gene.
Samantha
Loewi
Her father, Andy Loewi, who describes
her as “happy, well adjusted, fun and spunky,” says
she’s “dealt with the rather immense challenges that
confront her with amazing grace, courage and good humor.”
He’s much encouraged by the specific diagnosis they now
have.
“Knowing exactly what the gene
defect is gives us so much hope that she will not have to wait
to really see an effective gene therapy or some other treatment
that will be effective in ameliorating or even curing the disease,”
Andy says.
Samantha started using a power chair
when she was 10, and her condition hasn’t changed much since
then. “We’ve figured out a way for me to do a lot
of things,” she says. Next on her agenda are starting a
band with some musician friends and learning to drive an adapted
vehicle.
Kendle
For the Haughts, the diagnostic odyssey
isn’t quite over. Before Kendle was 5 months old, she had
a biopsy that showed merosin-deficient CMD, but further details
await DNA testing. She’ll be 4 in May, and attends a preschool.
Kendle is weak but can support herself
sitting if she’s not too tired. Severe contractures tighten
her hips, knees, ankles and elbows, and keep her from lying flat
if she’s on her stomach and from standing, even in a stander.
She can’t straighten her arms,
but her fingers are quite dexterous, allowing her to write, feed
herself and use her computer. She began talking at a year, and
at 3, her cognitive development was so advanced that her preschool
recommended she be put in a class of 4- and 5-year-olds.
When she was 2, her physical therapist
suggested that her high intelligence and maturity would make her
a good candidate for a power chair. “She was always cognitively
ahead,” Kristy says, but even so, she wasn’t sure
about a 2-year-old driving a power chair.
But, she says, “They had one
there, and they got it, and the minute Kendle touched the joystick
it was like she’d been doing it her whole life.”
Kendle
Haught
Kendle also has a weak cough, which
puts her at risk for serious respiratory infections, and has recently
acquired a CoughAssist, which pulls mucus out of the lungs with
suction. “It’s not easy,” says Kristy, who tried
it on herself, “and she doesn’t like it at all,”
but her parents hope it will keep her free of pneumonia.
A rapidly progressing spinal curvature
(scoliosis) concerns her doctors, who say she’ll probably
have to have surgery to correct it before long.
Kristy keeps in touch with other
parents via Internet chats. Kendle hasn’t needed assisted
ventilation or feeding tubes, and she has excellent cardiac function,
good hearing and vision, finger dexterity and high intelligence
as well.
“I feel we’ve been really
fortunate,” Kristy says.
Robyn
Robyn Gutierrez, who will turn 4
in May, has Ullrich CMD, with a mutation in the alpha-3 chain
of collagen 6. The Gutierrezes got her diagnosis last year after
locating Carsten Bonnemann through an Internet search and sending
a sample of Robyn’s muscle tissue to him. (They’re
now seeing pediatric neurologist Jonathan Strober, director of
the MDA clinic at the University of California at San Francisco
Children’s Hospital.)
Robyn
Gutierrez
She’s in a special preschool
program that Head Start operates in California.
“She’s very bright,”
says her mother, Aarica. “Her speech is very clear and precise,
and she has no problem letting you know what she wants. She speaks
in full paragraphs.
“Physically, she’s still
pretty much the same as when she was 18 months old. She hasn’t
gotten any worse, but she hasn’t gotten any stronger or
better. I think she can do a few more things, because with awareness
of her limitations, she tries to compensate. She’s very
good at compensating.” Even so, she falls often, and now
wears a light, foam helmet to protect her head when she’s
in school. She uses a walker when she’s outside on the playground.
“Robyn has more mobility than
most UCMD children whose parents I speak with,” Aarica says.
“But she’s only allowed to walk around independently
at home in the carpeted playroom area. The full family room and
the back of the house are pretty much her domain. After about
20 to 30 minutes, somebody has to be with her, because her legs
get tired, and she tends to fall. We don’t have any area
rugs in our house, because even those are hard for her to step
up over.”