And those magic wristbands don’t work, either

6 01 2011

Andrew Wakefield is a fraud—and the British Medical Journal has the evidence to prove it.

I tend to stay away from anti-vaxers, not because they don’t deserve the derision, but because there are many who are much better situated than me (see, for example, this post by Orac at Respectful Insolence) to take ’em on.

It’s not that there are no risks associated with vaccines or that no one has ever been adversely affected by vaccines—every year, for a quick example, there are people who are adversely affected by the flu vaccine who likely would have been fine without it—but one has to be clear what those risks are.

Stating that the measels, mumps, and rubella (MMR) vaccine causes autism is not clarifying those risks.

In fact, Wakefield was not only wrong when he made that connection in a 1998 Lancet article (an article which was retracted in 2010), he was deliberately wrong, that is, he fucked with the data. As the editors of BMJ note:

The Office of Research Integrity in the United States defines fraud as fabrication, falsification, or plagiarism. Deer unearthed clear evidence of falsification. He found that not one of the 12 cases reported in the 1998 Lancet paper was free of misrepresentation or undisclosed alteration, and that in no single case could the medical records be fully reconciled with the descriptions, diagnoses, or histories published in the journal.

Who perpetrated this fraud? There is no doubt that it was Wakefield. Is it possible that he was wrong, but not dishonest: that he was so incompetent that he was unable to fairly describe the project, or to report even one of the 12 children’s cases accurately? No. A great deal of thought and effort must have gone into drafting the paper to achieve the results he wanted: the discrepancies all led in one direction; misreporting was gross. Moreover, although the scale of the GMC’s 217 day hearing precluded additional charges focused directly on the fraud, the panel found him guilty of dishonesty concerning the study’s admissions criteria, its funding by the Legal Aid Board, and his statements about it afterwards.

Furthermore, Wakefield has been given ample opportunity either to replicate the paper’s findings, or to say he was mistaken. He has declined to do either. He refused to join 10 of his coauthors in retracting the paper’s interpretation in 2004, and has repeatedly denied doing anything wrong at all. Instead, although now disgraced and stripped of his clinical and academic credentials, he continues to push his views. [emphasis added]

Again, I leave it to the medical and scientific folk to tear into Wakefield’s manipulations; I want to address the public health implications of his fraud.

BMJ’s editors note that it is difficult to trace declining vaccination rates in the UK and elsewhere directly to Wakefield’s work, but it is clear that rates had fallen after 1998, and are still below the World Health Organization’s recommended coverage of 95 percent of a population. In 2008, measles were “declared endemic in England and Wales”, and an outbreak of mumps in Essen, Germany revealed that of the 71 children affected, 68 hadn’t been vaccinated. Finally, according to a June 2009 Pediatrics article (as discussed in the Wired article linked to, above), pertussis rates jumped from 1000 in 1976 to 26,000 in 2004.

So what? So some kids get sick for awhile. Sucks for them, but that’s what they get for having anti-vax parents.

Except that it’s not fair for those kids, and it puts others at risk of morbidity and mortality. Measles can kill. Meningitis can kill. Pertussis can kill, and on and on. Furthermore, many of the diseases which can be prevented by vaccines depend on herd immunity—they work mainly by preventing a disease from settling into a reservoir in a population—which means that if enough people in any given group are unvaccinated, the disease can spread.

Again, what’s the problem? If folks don’t get themselves immunized, that’s on them.

But it’s not. There are some people—infants, transplant patients, people with compromised immune systems, those  who may be  allergic to (as I am to the egg in flu vaccines) or otherwise intolerant to ingredients in the vaccine, among others—who are vulnerable to outbreaks. And even those who have been vaccinated may be at risk if, say, an especially virulent form of a disease is allowed to spread.

So back to the beginning(ish): There are risks to vaccination, but so there are greater risks to not vaccinating, not only to yourself or your kid, but to everyone around you.

Some parents feel quite comfortable withholding vaccines from their kids, but the only reason they can safely do so is because every other parent is vaccinating her kids. And hey, guess what, if everyone else has to take the risk to keep the disease at bay, then so should the anti-vaxers. Unless they are willing to keep themselves and their kids away from everyone else for as long as they all remain unvaccinated, they are free-riding on the rest of us. They are, in a sense, ripping us off.

If you want the benefits, you have to bear the burdens.

Finally, it is worth noting, along with the editors of BMJ,that

[P]erhaps as important as the scare’s effect on infectious disease is the energy, emotion, and money that have been diverted away from efforts to understand the real causes of autism and how to help children and families who live with it.

Wakefield and Age of Autism and Generation Rescue are doing no favors for those who do have autism or their families. Jennifer McCarthy and JB Handley, parents of kids with autism, may sincerely believe their bullshit, but the sincerity of those beliefs does not make that bs any less malodorous.

Who knows, maybe there is a specific cause for autism, one which, if rooted out, could lead to the end of this syndrome.

But that cause ain’t the MMR vaccine.





Signs of the apocalypse?

4 01 2011

The folks of Beebe, Arkansas, need stronger umbrellas:

Around 11 that night, thousands of red-winged blackbirds began falling out of the sky over this small city about 35 miles northeast of Little Rock. They landed on roofs, roads, front lawns and backyards, turning the ground nearly black and terrifying anyone who happened to be outside. . . .

State scientists believe one thing to be almost certain: that the bird deaths were not related to the roughly 85,000 fish that died a few days before near Ozark, in the western part of the state, the biggest fish kill in Arkansas that anyone can remember. . . .

Meanwhile roughly 500 dead birds were found on Monday outside New Roads, La. Those birds were much more varied, with starlings and grackle in addition to blackbirds, and a few samples picked up by James LaCour, a wildlife veterinarian with the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, did not show any signs of trauma, he said.

Run if you hear trumpets.

h/t  New York Times





Nothing changes on New Year’s day

3 01 2011

I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions. I mean, it’s not like I’m actually going to follow through or anything.

Nevertheless.

My life has been bumping rather than rolling along, and thus it behooves me to think, Hm, why might this be? And what could I do to smooth it out a wee?

So, plans, considerations—resolutions, if you will.

1. I will do dishes at least every other day.

When I live with other people, I’m pretty good about not leaving common areas (e.g., the kitchen sink) clogged up with my gunk, but, alone, well. . . hey, those dishes are all mine, and they’re rinsed, and, you know, I just ate cereal out of that bowl or drank water out of that glass. . . did I mention I rinsed?

Please.

I’m an adult, and not much of a cook, so it’s not as if I create a blizzard of dishes—which, actually, might be the problem. It’s really easy to let things go if it’s only a plate or a bowl and a few pieces of silverware. . . .

Regardless, this is a basic way to take care, so why not just take care. It’s not as if spending 10 minutes making dishes clean every two days is that onerous, anyway.

2. I will leave my apartment every day.

This is not an issue when I am fully or overemployed, but in my underemployment, I find it very easy to hunker down and fade away. The gym membership helps, but as I have no expectation of spending 7 days a week at the gym, I need to haul my own sorry ass out of the building and around the block or over to the park or wherever until I do hitch a  new ride in the job-o-sphere. (And if I manage to find a job wherein I work from home? Even more important to get the hell out.)

I have made this commitment before, but what the hell, it’s a good one, and worth trying again.

3. At least 5 days a week I will do one thing I don’t want to do but which needs doing.

This isn’t about the cleaning the cat box, which I don’t like doing but needs doing and already do, anyway; no, this is about going through files or organizing this or tossing that—clearing away the (metaphorical) cobwebs, if you will.

Again, I’ve tried doing something like this previously (if I could find the post about lists I’d link to it, but you’ll just have to trust me: I’ve written on this before) and have failed, but, again, it’s worth another shot.

4. I will open my mail as soon I get it.

I don’t this, and that’s bad.

I have hang-ups about mail (postal and electronic) and no, I don’t want to talk about it, but, well, there it is.

I am most likely to fail at this one first.

5. I will sit, and breathe, and try not to distract myself, for a little while every day.

Or this one—I might fail this one first.

~~~

There are so, so many things in my life which need changing, but many of those are big, or seem big, or are in any case currently beyond my will and/or ability to deal with. So I’m starting small.

Now, of course, if I fail at the small what are the chances I’ll tackle the big? Oh! Oh! I can answer this! Nil! Because I’m already failing at the small!

In other words, I gots nothing to lose.

~~~

I am unhappy with my self and my life. No, I’m not awful, but I’m not who I want to be, either.

Not that I know who I want to be, but I do know some of the pieces that I would like included in present and future versions of myself.

I’d like to pay better attention.

I’d like to be a better friend, to show up for people, in ways that matter to them.

I’d like to take more chances. On everything. And maybe, just maybe, if not on everyone, then on at least some-ones.

I’d like to learn something other than defense.

I’d like to stop making excuses.

Oh, and I’d like to be taller, please.

~~~

The list is not unreasonable (for the most part. . . ), but even now, I hesitate.Who cares about these things? Who cares that you want to do these things? What kind of pie-in-the-sky crap is this, anyway?

I don’t want to silence my inner critic—who would I talk to?—but it would be nice if I could get her to remember that a true critic doesn’t just chastise. Sometimes, sometimes, the critic applauds.

Or at least puts down her pen long enough to give a nod.

Yeah, a nod. I could live with that.