Author Archives: Robert Resta

Resta’s Rules of Genetic Counseling

You will not find these pearls of wisdom in Psyche and Helix, Psychosocial Genetic Counseling, A Guide To Genetic Counseling, or the Journal of Genetic Counseling. I am certain that they will never be the source of correct responses on genetic counseling board certification exams. These insights are based on personal observations made during my 3+ decades of genetic counseling practice. There is almost no research to back them up but they are gospel truth nonetheless. Well, at least they seem true.



1) All interactions with patients are primarily psychosocial encounters, no matter how much we or patients consciously or unconsciously try to focus on facts and figures.

2) All research studies are flawed in some way. Therefore, all facts, figures, and risk predictions that we so confidently quote are wrong, with the possible exception of Mendelian segregation ratios (but even there…). Quite often, several seemingly well designed studies about the same topic will produce conflicting results.

3) Which risk figures we choose to quote reflect more about our own unconscious biases, training, and professional influences than it does about the robustness of the statistics themselves.

4) It often turns out that patients with the lowest a priori risk have the highest chance of actually testing positive for a gene mutation and, conversely, the highest risk patients actually have the lowest chance of testing positive for a gene mutation (and I am not altogether making this up).

5) In a family that looks like it could have two different genetic syndromes, one syndrome highly likely and the second syndrome fairly unlikely, if you don’t test the family for the less likely syndrome they will inevitably be tested by another care provider some day and test positive, and then you will foolish and insecure (especially if the other care provider is not a geneticist). But if when you initially see the family you do the testing for the less likely syndrome, the testing will be normal and you will kick yourself for wasting healthcare dollars. Perhaps this is a corollary to Rule Number 4.

6) As I have previously pointed out in The Resta Paradox* there is a sub-set of patients who believe that the most improbable things will happen to them. If you say to such a patient “The odds of this happening are one in a thousand” the patient will inevitably respond “Well, I will be that one in a thousand. Rare things always happen to me.” To some extent, this is an example of Abby Lippman’s key insight from 35 years ago that patients inevitably dichotomize odds – either it will happen to me or it won’t. It may also be a defense mechanism, a way for patients to prepare themselves for the possibility of an unlikely undesired outcome. Trying to reassure such patients with even more statistics is an exercise in futility; these situations require good basic counseling skills. Really, when it comes down to it, who cares what numbers they choose to believe? A better counseling approach is to acknowledge the patient’s viewpoint and then explore why they believe these numbers and how that perception affects their decision-making.

Graphics by Emily Singh


7) If you make a clerical error, no matter how tiny and seemingly insignificant, it will come back to haunt you in unforeseeable and kafkaesque ways, and it will be nearly impossible to undo the error. My father, a career clerk, used to tell me ad nauseam “The world would be a better place if there were more good clerks.” Dad, bless his clerical heart, was right.

8)  The patients for whom you put in the most effort – or pre-appointment preparation – are the ones most likely to complain about you or to no-show for their appointments.

9) Nobody – not our billing departments or even health insurers themselves – understands insurance coverage for genetic counseling and genetic testing. Genetics itself is far simpler to understand than billing for genetics.

10) There will be at least one genetic counselor at your institution who is on maternity leave or planning a wedding.

The Resta Paradox  (graphic by Emily Singh)

* – The astute DNA Exchange reader may have noted a tendency on the author’s part to name things after himself – Resta’s Rules, The Resta Paradox, RestaEZ Gene Panels. Admittedly this is shameless ego stroking. But it is better than an eponymous syndrome. With all due respect and apologies to our genetic counseling colleague Ann Smith, my preference is for a medical cure or a clever theory to be associated with my surname.

And, once again, a special thanks to Emily Singh, daughter extraordinaire, for help with graphics.


Filed under Robert Resta

Guest Post: NIPS: Microdeletions, Macro Questions

by Katie Stoll

Katie Stoll is a genetic counselor in Washington State. She graduated from the Brandeis University training program in 2003 and since that time has held positions in the areas of prenatal, pediatric and cancer genetics.

At the recent National Society of Genetic Counselors Annual Education Conference in New Orleans, a presentation raised some important questions about noninvasive prenatal screening (NIPS). According to the speaker, a woman with a vanishing twin pregnancy underwent NIPS with an expanded microdeletion panel and the results showed findings “suggestive” of a chromosomal microdeletion syndrome.

The patient underwent amniocentesis with a SNP microarray and the results were normal. In a follow-up call with the NIPS lab, the genetic counselor learned that multiple copy number variants were observed (not originally reported) in the original sample. The lab suggested that these variants could be associated with a malignancy or fibroid tumor (and were of course unlikely to be associated with a microdeletion syndrome in the fetus).

As a result of this genetic counselor’s follow-up phone call and due diligence, the patient underwent an extensive work up for possible cancer, but no explanation was found. NIPS was repeated and this follow-up study was normal.

My first thought in hearing this case was – That poor woman! First a lost twin pregnancy, then concern for a severe condition in her baby, anxiety about the amnio, and worry that she may have Cancer. Although I am not a health economist, my second thought was – Holy Cow! How can our healthcare system afford all of the follow-up testing that may come downstream from these tests? NIPS is promoted as a test that will lessen the need for follow-up procedures such as amniocentesis, but will that remain true as the list of screened conditions increases?

In October 2013 Sequenom expanded their NIPS test to include screening for microdeletion syndromes and Natera followed suit in Spring 2014. Some new companies entering the NIPS market are also advertising screening for microdeletion syndromes.

The addition of microdeletions is a brilliant business strategy for expanding the testing market to include all pregnant women. Even though microdeletions are rare, their incidence—unlike that of Down syndrome –is not linked to maternal age. Women who are currently not offered NIPS because they are not included in the high-risk categories proposed by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) guidelines could now be given a reason to undergo NIPS—even though the predictive ability of the NIPS for rare conditions is less than impressive.

Women who elect the test because of an interest in Down syndrome or because they are eager to learn fetal gender may unknowingly be screened for rare microdeletion syndromes which they know little to nothing about. To add to the complexity, a maternal microdeletion condition may be an incidental finding. In a poster presented at the NSGC meeting this year, Sequenom presented a series of 22q11 deletions detected with their MaterniT21 PLUS test. Included in this report were two mothers who were themselves incidentally diagnosed with 22q11 deletion syndrome. Based on the consent form on the Sequenom website it seems unlikely that these women had any idea such a result may occur.

Where is the evidence to support this expanded screening?

These tests are being performed despite there being no published clinical validation studies. There have been some case reports and proof of concept studies; however given that this testing has been commercially available for over a year now, there is shockingly little published about cell free DNA screening for microdeletions. An abstract from a poster presentation at the ACOG annual meeting in April 2014 evaluated 6 samples (or is it 7? – it is not clear from the abstract) from pregnancies known to be affected with microdeletions and 8 simulated samples. They conclude, “This is the most comprehensive, accurate validation of noninvasive microdeletion detection hitherto… This approach will enable accurate, noninvasive, prenatal population screening for these severe disorders.”

Proof of concept is one thing; proof of clinical validity is another. If we value evidence-based medicine, a sample of six (or seven) affected pregnancies is a long way from being a basis for population screening. Whether population-wide screening for extremely rare disorders is worth paying for is, of course, a question in itself.

But in the unregulated environment of laboratory-developed tests, we adopt first and report out results later. Accompanying this process is a lack of transparency – labs performing NIPS with microdeletions have not made performance statistics publicly available and thus patients and providers have no way of determining the accuracy of microdeletion NIPS. In a webinar hosted by Sequenom , the presenters were asked about the positive predictive value (PPV) of Sequenom’s screen for microdeletions. One speaker replied, “We have calculated them. However, what we would like is essentially to wait a little bit to give you more clinically relevant results. Because so much depends on the fetal fraction of the sample and so on and so forth, so we feel that the more appropriate number to release is after we have done 50,000 samples, how many have we found, how many have we reported back, how many were confirmed, how many were in line with the clinical picture.”

Shouldn’t the accuracy of the test be publicly known before it is run clinically on 50,000 women?

Labs have given us only a glimpse of their performance statistics. I was previously provided information from Natera regarding estimated PPVs for the microdeletions on their panel, but I cannot locate this information anywhere in the public forum. The table I was provided stated a 1/19 PPV (5.3%) for 22q11 with a Fetal Fraction >6% and dropping much lower (to 1/45) with decreased fetal fraction (interesting thread here of multiple women with a 1/19 chance of 22q11 on their NIPS result).

In a letter to the editor, former CMO of Sequenom Allan Bombard and colleagues reported that they had evaluated 264 samples from pregnancies with known microdeletion and microduplications or “enriched genomic mixtures” and report a 100% sensitivity and 99.3% specificity. Applying these statistics to 22q11.2 deletion syndrome (the most common microdeletion syndrome on the panel with an incidence of 1 in 4,000) indicates a PPV of about 0.036 or 3.6% . The overall PPV would be expected to be lower given the very low incidence of the other microdeletions on the panel. At the NSGC meeting this year, Sequenom presented some preliminary data from a series of 120,726 samples screened from October 2013 – July 2014 with test performance that exceeds those estimates. Although they did not have complete follow-up data for positive and negative results, a press release from the company following the NSGC meeting reports “high positive predictive values (estimated combined PPV ranged from 62% to 94%)”.

The limited information available suggests PPVs for microdeletion syndromes fall within a broad range of <3% – >90%. Published peer-reviewed studies are needed to help clarify the PPV associated with this testing so that healthcare providers and patients can make informed decisions about utilizing and interpreting this testing.

About a year and a half ago I published a piece on the DNA Exchange that discussed the importance of PPV in interpreting NIPS results. This was written for an audience of genetic counselors, but the posting is being increasingly used as a venue for patients to share their stories and seek information about their test results. Many patients report considerable anxiety – “the waiting is killing us…we have been devastated for the better part of 3 weeks now” – and some express regret for undergoing this testing at all, “I too wish I would of just done the typical old fashion test so nothing was in the back of my mind and hours of my life would be given back…” Recently, a woman remarked that she did not consent to additional testing for microdeletions and indicates her frustration with not being able to find information about the PPV for this test, “Not only are they essentially experimenting on us…they are not transparent about the potential problems with validity or low PPV.”

As genetic counselors, we are implicated in these companies’ approach. We should be demanding better evidence before leading our patients towards testing that could create this kind of distress. We need to be asking good questions, and we should demand good answers. If we cannot figure out how reliable a screening test is from a thorough review of the literature, I think we really need to ask ourselves if we should be offering it in a clinical setting.


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VUS iz dos? Suggestions For A Reasonable Policy On Reporting Genetic Variants of Unknown Significance.

In a previous post, I raised questions about the appropriateness of certain billing policies for multigene cancer panels. As expected, it evoked some thoughtful and strongly felt comments and disagreements. But one thing we can all agree on about multigene panels is that the rate of detecting variants of uncertain significance (VUS) is way too high, usually in the range of 30-40%.

It will be many years before we will be able to determine the clinical significance of most of these variants, even if collaborative VUS reporting among labs becomes a reality and – more concerning to me – the public databases are properly curated. Indeed, the high frequency of VUS may prove to be the Achilles heel of multigene panels particularly as genetic testing increasingly takes place outside of the realm of genetics specialists.

What benefits do patients get from knowing about VUS? Absolutely none that I can think of. Knowledge of a VUS does nothing to enhance their medical decision-making or psychosocial well-being. For some patients, knowledge of VUS may contribute to short-term anxiety and uncertainty. Despite our best efforts, many patients have a look on their face that suggests something along the lines of “I am not exactly sure what was just said to me but I think I have a mutation in a cancer causing gene and how can that not be related to my family history of cancer?” Even more concerning, we all have one too many stories about patients who made surgical decisions based on a VUS, particularly when patients have not been counseled by a genetically sophisticated clinician, in direct contradiction to our dictum that “These results should not be used to guide patient care or cancer risk assessment for the patient or the patient’s family.”

So let me offer a solution that many genetic counselors will think is heresy and antithetical to basic genetic counseling philosophy. Stone, spitball, egg, and tomato me if you will, but my recommendation is that VUS should not be reported out by laboratories.

Instead of reporting specific VUS, I suggest that all genetic test reports – and pre-test counseling notes and result letters that are sent to patients and care providers – include a clearly written and highly visible general disclaimer along the lines of: Variants of unknown clinical significance are very commonly detected on genetic tests. These variants cannot and should not be used to guide medical care or help better understand cancer risks, and therefore are not detailed here. We continually monitor and study these variants. In the uncommon event that a variant is eventually re-classified as pathogenic or otherwise important for guiding your medical care and assessing your health risks, you and your doctor will be promptly notified.

A variant  should be reported when the lab feels that there is a reasonable possibility that the variant might be clinically important. In those cases, labs should offer family studies if they think that the functional and clinical significance of the mutation can be clarified by studying families that segregate the specific mutation. Of course, labs should be able to provide the VUS result – along with their rationale for classifying it as unknown rather than benign or pathogenic – if a patient or provider requests it.

By the way, I prefer Variants of Unknown Significance over Variants of Uncertain Significance. Maybe I am nit-picking, but uncertain seems to leave more psychological wiggle room for patients and care providers to think “Hey, maybe this is important” while unknown suggests that we really do not know what it means.

I can think of two reasons that help explain why we continue to report VUS to patients. One reason stems from our tendency to over-explain, the original sin of genetic counseling. In our desire to adequately inform patients we often overload them with a compressed course in advanced biology and genetics. In a form of counter-transference, we think of our patients as some version of ourselves and we sometimes unconsciously speak to them as if we were speaking to ourselves. Many genetic counselors are science nerds at heart and we tacitly assume that any rational person (i.e., someone who thinks like me) would want to know all those gloriously fine technical and scientific details.

The second reason that we report out VUS is that our concept of a gene is stuck in about 1995 or so. Back then we envisioned genes as highly stable structures which would occasionally have a few mutant alleles, and therefore Mutation = Bad. In fact, mutations are strikingly common and only a few are of clinical or evolutionary significance. Mutations are the norm for genes, not the exception.

This policy would require broad acceptance by the genetics community – genetic counselors, medical geneticists, genetics labs, and others. Perhaps a first step could be to conduct studies that randomly assign patients to two groups, one that receives VUS results and one that does not. Those patients could be followed for a period of time and then compare the two groups for differences in utilization of surgery and screening, as well as psychosocial adaptation and quality of life.

Let’s modify our counseling philosophy to fit into the 21st century. Many of us may kick and scream at first because, well, it is so different from what we normally do. But once you get past the initial shock,  relax and kick off your shoes, sip a beer, and think about it more clearly and calmly, you may begin to feel differently.


Filed under Robert Resta

Benefits, Beneficence, and Bending Ethics: Questionable Billing Practices for Multigene Panels?

Germline multigene panel testing is the new hot thing in genetic counseling circles. For the last 15 or so years, the equation has read “Breast Cancer Genetics = BRCA Testing,” with the occasional TP53, PTEN, STK11, or CDH1 test thrown in when we thought we were being clinically astute and smarter than the non-geneticsts at Tumor Board. But now, thanks to the discovery of other genes linked to hereditary breast cancer along with the miracle of massively parallel sequencing, we can test patients for a bucketful of genes in one fell swoop without significantly increasing the cost. We debate the wisdom of including some of the genes on these panels, differences in laboratory quality, the clinical value of the information, and – everybody’s favorite – high rates of variants of uncertain significance. These are  important issues but here I want to discuss an ethically gray practice that has not received much public airing – billing health insurers for multigene panels.

Here in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, roughly half of the health insurance companies cover multigene panels. Not uncommonly, patients will request “that new gene test” that their friend told them about. Counseling issues aside, many patients are disappointed when they learn that if they want a multigene panel, their insurer will not pay for it and they will have to fork over $1500-$4100 of their own hard-earned money. But word on the street – and I am not naming names since I don’t have personal experience with this phenomenon yet – is that some patients are managing to get gene panels covered by their insurers even when their carriers have explicit policies against such testing.

I have been told – and again I acknowledge that I do not have hard proof of this – that some labs are running the panels but not letting insurers know that a multigene panel test was performed. This is partially due to the insurance coding game. The billing codes for BRCA testing are the same as the billing codes for multigene panels, so on one level, insurers are blind to the distinction between the two tests and might never know that their policyholders are not exactly getting the test that the insurer paid for. If  labs eat these costs in full, well, that’s their own business decision and not an ethical lapse (although I wonder how many write-offs a lab can absorb while still maintaining profitability).

If this deceptive billing practice is indeed taking place, it is hard to believe that labs are doing this strictly out of the goodness of their hearts or entirely out of concern for the health and well-being of patients. Genetic testing for hereditary breast cancer has become highly competitive and labs are intensely vying for market share since the US Supreme Court decision in Association for Molecular Pathology v. Myriad Genetics opened up BRCA testing to all labsIf labs are engaging in this practice, it is likely because they want to win the favor of major cancer centers that can provide millions of dollars of business.

Billing an insurer for a test when the lab is aware that the insurer does not cover it, and not letting the insurer know which test was actually run, strikes me as dishonest rather than just bending the rules. And if we genetic counselors stand silently by and allow this to transpire, we are accessories to this moral – and legal? – infraction. It may also cause insurers like Cigna to rethink their policy of requiring a consultation with a genetic counselor before approving coverage for genetic testing. We are, after all, supposed to be conscientious about their guidelines when we order genetic testing for their policyholders.


Now let me be clear. I am (mostly) a supporter of gene panel testing and think it should be a covered benefit, though I must admit that I am a bit disappointed in the low yield of actionable positive results beyond BRCA. I have spent an inordinate amount of time appealing these policies, with little success. It is frustrating for me and it makes patients unhappy when their insurer does not cover a test that care providers think could be useful.

Sure, we want what we think is best for patients, and yes insurance company policies can be maddening. But that does not provide moral justification for deceiving insurance companies. The ends do not justify the means. Instead, it should put the burden on us to continue to appeal the policies through established channels and to perform research studies that assess the clinical value of testing for genes such as NBN, RAD51C, or PALB2. Insurers have a valid point when they say that there are inadequate data to determine the clinical utility of multigene panel tests for their policyholders.

I hope that what I have been told is incorrect. If so, then we can write this posting off as based on unverified rumors. But if there is some truth to it, then we need to have a hard and thoughtful discussion. I am interested in hearing the experience of others with insurance coverage for multigene panels.


- Thank you to Emily Singh for help with the graphics.


Filed under Robert Resta

Who The Hell Do We Think We Are? 12 Questions About The Future Of Genetic Counseling

In the prophet business, they laugh at you when your predictions are wrong and chase you out-of-town – or worse – when your predictions prove to be correct. So, at the risk of being tarred and feathered or be made to wear a Scold’s Bridle, I venture twelve questions about possible future scenarios for the genetic counseling profession. Feel free to add a Comment with your own questions (and see how hard it is to be a prophet).

  1. Will our primary role be to serve as interpreters of test results for laboratories and ordering physicians? With the increasing growth of genetic laboratory services and a widespread lack of genetic sophistication among most ordering clinicians, laboratory demand for genetic counselors may far exceed employment in clinics. Besides, why should hospitals spend money on salary and benefits for genetic counselors when lab genetic counselors can provide the expertise?
  2. Might we become consultants for online genetic testing companies, helping plan, develop, and sell their products?  This could be a future where genetic testing is arranged over the Internet through a handful of megalabs, an oligopoly that controls the market. Such lab equivalents of Alibaba and Amazon, would sell gene products – clinical and otherwise – to an international market, where there is no clear-cut distinction between consumer and patient. This is not such an outlandish possibility; consider the connection between 23andMe and Google.This scenario sounds like the basis for a Philip K. Dick nightmare novel.
  3. Could we evolve into educators/communicators for the public rather than individual patients? With genetics predicted to be incorporated into everyday medical care, there is no way we can provide genetic counseling to everyone. But we could become a universal resource, developing and providing educational materials and expertise for clinicians, patients, courts of law, film makers, and just about anybody who has a genetic question.
  4. With institutions wanting to provide cost-effective care with as few employees as possible, along with the ongoing trend of hospital mergers and consolidations, could we become self-employed specialists who serve in consulting roles across multiple health care settings? We might strap on our NSGC issued jetpacks to hop from campus to campus of regional mega-hospitals to deliver genetic consultations on a moment’s notice.
    Genetic Counseling Jet Pack
  5. Will we change our profession’s focus from genotype counseling to phenotype counseling? In the past, a visit to the genetics clinic was necessary to sort through the appropriate genetic testing for patients, since it would be far too expensive to run every genetic test possible. With affordable multi-gene panels and whole exome/genome sequencing, it will no longer be economically necessary to see a geneticist to order “the right tests.” Just throw the whole plate of DNA strand spaghetti against the wall and see what sticks. The job of genetic counselors will then be to figure out what phenotype(s) could be expected from the array of test results.
  6. Will we become health/life style coaches? This is a natural progression from what we are doing now in cancer and cardiovascular clinics. Based on genetic test results we make  recommendations for health care and life style. Followed to the logical outcome, this model could be applied to almost any disease with a substantive, actionable, and identifiable genetic component.
  7. Will we be charged to be guardians of the public’s genetic health? With the introduction of Down syndrome screening of all pregnancies, universal carrier screening, and expanded newborn screening, there will be growing social pressure to “control and cure genetic disease.” This future could easily slide into creepy eugenic territory and provide Nathaniel Comfort material for several more books about the often vague distinction between relieving individual suffering and “population improvement.” This is not such an outlandish idea; James Neel, the great geneticist and a major figure in the early days of medical genetics, titled his magnum opus Physician To The Gene Pool.
  8. Will we be private entrepreneurs who offer our services directly to the public in GeneTruckshopping malls, pop-up counseling clinics, and mobile GeneTrucks,  bringing our services  to the public in non-traditional settings?
  9. Can we be all of the above and still maintain our unique professional identity?
  10. How will training programs properly prepare students for so many futures?
  11. Will there be a perception of less of a need for psychosocial skills? Will we lose sight of the basic truth that any interaction between two human beings is always a psychological interplay?
  12. Will the exploration of the human genome fail to  live up to its promise and hype, it’s low hanging fruit already plucked, and the current fad of genetic medicine replaced by some other medical breakthrough? Who knows, maybe gut microbiomes or epigenetic changes will be the next darling.  Would the genetic counseling profession wither on the vine?


Special thanks to Emily Singh for her expertise in realizing the graphics in this posting.


Filed under Robert Resta

Don’t Look Now

At the bus stop the other day I saw a young man who had no nose. No proboscis, no nasal hypoplasia, no midline facial cleft, no Voldemort nasal slits. Just a deep hole, the circumference of a quarter, in the center of his face. The shock was heightened by encountering him in the clear daylight of a beautiful afternoon, outside of the normalizing context of a genetics clinic.

My mind sorted through possible etiologies. A freebasing accident gone horrifically wrong? A congenital anomaly syndrome whose name was lost in the cobwebs of my brain? A developmental process gone awry? The product of a new teratogen? An extreme case of self-mutilating psychopathology?

My fellow commuters in waiting were either staring directly at him, or, like me, struggling to disguise our rudeness by trying to simultaneously gaze at and just past him. I rationalized my behavior by telling myself that I was doing what any reasonable geneticist would do – trying to fit him into a Dave Smith pigeonhole. But, truth be told, I was gawking at him.

Name That Syndrome. It is a game that geneticists often play when we have the opportunity to observe the parade of humanity in all of its terribly wonderful variety. That exotically gorgeous woman with the ice blue eyes and gray forelock sitting at the bar? I bet she has Waardenburg syndrome. That overly friendly young boy with the starburst iris trying to make friends with every angry airline passenger aggravated by the flight delay? Only a kid with Williams syndrome could have that much faith in the goodness of humanity. That overweight blind child with post axial polydactyly clinging to her bedraggled mother, the weary pair standing on a rush hour bus because nobody had the decency to offer them a seat? I hope her pediatrician had the savvy to diagnose Bardet-Biedl syndrome. And that guy waiting to board the plane who has wide-set eyes, a depressed nasal bridge, a smooth philtrum, and mild syndactyly – he must have something. I wonder if the airport’s facial recognition security software has Gorlin’s Syndromes of the Head and Neck programmed into it?

Context matters. Within the confines of the clinic, it is entirely appropriate for a genetic professional to intensely examine every square centimeter of a patient’s body. But once we step out of the front doors of our medical towers and into the streets, we lose the mantle of medical authority that grants us the social privilege of staring closely at other human beings to look for differences subtle and profound that stray from the norm (of course, variation is the norm).

Separation of personal and professional life is a complex, challenging, and ongoing process. We often have a hard time finding the Off button for our clinical instincts. Like clerics and cops, geneticists can feel like they are never off duty. I struggle with this nearly every day, dancing a tango where I am vying with myself for the lead.

I do my best to justify the social crassness of Name That Syndrome by re-framing it as clinical curiosity.  But it’s not polite to stare; Mom is right once again. On the streets they are not clinical puzzles. They are people with beating hearts who are trying to scratch out a decent life in a hard world. They deserve respect and dignity, not freak stares. If we lose sight of this, we become poorer clinicians and lesser people.


Filed under Robert Resta

Guest Post: Genetic Counseling Is Like A Soap Opera, by Laila Rhee Morris

Laila Rhee Morris is a genetic counselor in California. She graduated from the Sarah Lawrence College training program in 1992. She loves children, animals, trivia and recycling. Her interests include movies, TV and books that feature genetics.

You could say that I became interested in genetics, healthcare, and soap operas simultaneously. When I was in the 7th grade, I contracted mononucleosis, “the kissing disease,” although, at that point, I was not kissing anyone except the family pets. The fact that a virus was making my white blood cells multiply wildly seems to have sparked my first curiosity about genetics. Mononucleosis completely exhausted me, and my mother mercifully relaxed her 10 hours per week TV rule, which is how I became addicted to soap operas.

After 22 years I find that my genetic counseling sessions can resemble a soap opera. The messy human drama  – and sometimes comedy) – plays out in the sessions, hospital rooms, and can even spill over into waiting rooms. But all this is not for my amusement; my job is to help people pick up the pieces of their lives.

I love to tell people that I once wrote a genetic counseling story-line for a soap opera. About 20 years ago, the producers of the soap opera Loving (ABC TV: 1983-1995) called the clinic in New York where I was working to request the help of a genetic counselor to devise a plot-line whereby their star actress, Susan Keith, could have a pregnancy with an unclear ultrasound finding. I excitedly volunteered right away, correctly guessing that my supervisor, Nancy Zellers, would be too busy to take on this task.

I felt vindicated that all those hours that I spent watching were not a waste and I felt as if, finally, these TV people had come to me to develop a decent dramatic story with a foothold in the real world of genetics. The guidelines were that the character had to have prenatal ultrasound finding where the baby could be normal or could have problems after birth. Susan Keith* played Shana Sloane Vocheck Burnell; she was a pretty actress with mountains of red hair. Somewhere in my devious mind or maybe from an actual case, I decided that Shana should have a prenatal ultrasound that detected agenesis of the corpus callosum (ACC) in the fetus.

Shana went for her ultrasound probably expecting everything to be normal, as most real patients do, and thinking that the only point to this ultrasound exam would be to determine whether she was having a girl or a boy. After the ACC diagnosis, the writers had Shana meet with a genetic counselor. Gasp. Can you think of a single TV show or movie where there has been a genetic counselor character?

The genetic counselor character was featured for one day. The producers made it a point to tell me that they even went to the expense to fly out a veteran (show business speak for “older”) actress from Los Angeles to play the role of the genetic counselor (GC). Oh my, the scene with the genetic counselor was just awful. I did not think to record it and thus nothing is left of my masterpiece.

On the positive side, the actress did look like a GC or at least those that I had encountered up to that point during my training. She was an older, kindly appearing Caucasian woman. My cringe worthy moments started the minute that she opened her mouth and introduced herself as “a genetics counselor,” with the “S.”** Then, she ushered Shana and her partner to her office and sat behind a mahogany desk to deliver the bad news. As Shana sobbed and dropped the entire contents of her purse on the ground, the GC excused herself to go take care of something more important in another room. The GC didn’t even offer poor Shana a tissue as Shana was crouching on the carpet in a puddle of tears. On Loving, Shana’s ACC story line went on and on, drawn out for more weeks than a real pregnancy lasts, until Shana eventually delivered an apparently healthy baby girl.

I also want to point out that the soap operas can be educational. They were some great genetic storylines. The 1980 General Hospital paternity storyline involving the Bombay blood phenotype is featured on an NIH website and on YouTube.

After moving away from New York city 20 years ago, I have no time to watch TV and most of the soap operas have been cancelled. Sadly, my soap opera days seem to be behind me but isn’t being let into our patients’ complicated lives (and helping them) the ultimate human drama?


*A different Loving clip featuring Susan Keith can be found on at Interestingly, this clip features Susan Keith smooching with her real life husband, James Kiberd

** There are some people (Bob Resta is one) who like the “S” in genetics counselor because it sounds as if we are counseling about the field of genetics. I know that it is not an apostrophe “S” but my opinion is that genetics with the S is a tongue twister and makes me sound like a Castilian Spanish aristocrat. I am certain that the original Loving script reflected my preference: the without the “S” variation.


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