Memories are like a train/You can see them getting smaller as they pull away – from “Time” by Tom Waits.
Several decades ago I counseled a couple whose amniocentesis results revealed a balanced Robertsonian translocation. The product of that pregnancy, now an adult, recently had an appointment with a genetic counselor to discuss the reproductive implications of the translocation. The counselor was impressed that the individual was still aware of being a translocation carrier after all these years. The patient smiled and pointed out their middle name – Robertson! The parents chose this middle name so the patient would always be aware of their karyotype. Pretty clever, no? This was the parents’ idea, though it sounds like something I could have half-jestingly suggested. The patient said their mother remembered the counselor’s name was Robert but the patient thought their mother was confusing the counselor’s name with the translocation. The counselor verified the accuracy of Mom’s recollection, saying “Oh no, he was real.”
This got me to thinking about prenatal and newborn screening results that do not have clinical implications until adulthood or in the context of reproductive decisions. Even if you are a cranky old man like me and do not support testing children for conditions that do not have implications until adulthood, there are some situations where it is unavoidable. Amniocentesis or CVS performed for a recessive disorder would be expected to find that 50% of at risk pregnancies will prove to be carriers of a single pathogenic variant and who are typically unaffected (recognizing that for some conditions this may result in clinical manifestations). Newborn screening programs that include hemoglobin disorders such as sickle cell anemia and thalassemia and any genomics-based newborn screening program intended to detect affected children will also incidentally detect carriers. And some parents who participate in expanded newborn screening programs have expressed a desire to know about their child’s risk of adult onset conditions such as cancer.
This situation can arise in other contexts too. When carrier screening reveals only one parent is a carrier of a recessive condition, prenatal diagnosis will not likely be performed for the condition. But their children have a 50% chance of having inherited the pathogenic variant.
A vital and eminently practical question not often addressed is: Will the offspring be aware of those results by the time they are relevant in adulthood? Naming kids Robertson is a solution for only a tiny niche of patients. Maybe some kids could be named Lynch. But I can’t imagine a generation of kids named BRCA2 6174 delT, CFTR ΔF508, or HBA1/2 α-/α-. Well, Elon Musk might consider it for his kids but, unabashed eugenicist that he is, it’s hard to believe he would participate in conceiving such a child. And Linus Pauling’s bizarre recommendation that carriers of genetic conditions have their foreheads tattooed to indicate their carrier status is beyond Gattaca.
More seriously, sure some parents will dutifully ensure that their children stay aware of this information. But for the most part that may not happen until the children are older, assuming that they will even want to know their results. Lots of things can happen between now and then. Parents may ultimately decide not to tell their children – who knows what eugenic laws, social values, and insurance discrimination practices lie in our future? The information may get garbled in the re-telling after all that time. Parents may die before they have the opportunity to discuss the results with their children. Families fall apart or simply lose touch with one another. And you know what? Lots of people go through life not really caring what their genome says, as shocking as that may be to some genetic counselors.
There will of course be a formal record of the results but hard copy, such as a printed report or letter, has, without extreme vigilance, a high chance of getting lost or forgotten in the chaotic dance of life. Any digital platform is unlikely to be readable several decades in the future (Anybody out there have a slide projector I could use for my old slides or a computer that reads floppy disks or an IBM punch card reader where the data for my master’s thesis was recorded?).


Labs may shutter, which could make it more difficult to access test results. Maybe the world will be such a mess from the impact of climate change that genetic test results will be one of the least things to worry about in life. It might be a losing bet but I would wager that the vast majority of genetic test results that don’t have immediate or short term implications for the child will fade away before they can ever be communicated or acted on.
Perhaps in the future every adult will undergo whatever current state-of-the-art genetic screening is available, which could obviate the need for keeping the older test results at front of mind (in a step in that direction, the United Arab Emirates requires carrier screening for over 800 conditions as a prerequisite for marriage). But I don’t really believe that is going to happen among large swaths of the population, despite genetic counselors being “passionate about bringing genetic testing to everyone” or the sales hype that genetic testing needs to be “democratized.” In fact, in the face of potential genetic discrimination, universal genomic screening could wind up being very undemocratic. I could unfortunately easily imagine nightmare scenarios such as requiring immigrants to prove they are not carriers of a hereditary condition before being considered for citizenship or deporting those already residing here, justified by the age-old ploy of not burdening taxpayers with the cost of their healthcare. The US government is not alone in justifying its immigration policies by baselessly claiming that deporting immigrants is a net benefit for the economy. Besides, immigrants can already be deported for conviction of trivial infractions like marijuana possession; getting bum-rushed out of the country for having the “wrong” genomic test results might not be far behind.
I used to tell my patients that they should include the test results in their will to help ensure that the information stays available. But many people don’t have wills, and for those that do, by the time they die, the offspring may be old enough that genetic information may no longer have any clinical or reproductive relevance. Perhaps in countries with national and centralized health records this will prove to be less of an issue. But there too, as storage technology evolves, information will inevitably be lost. Or governments may decide to discontinue or curtail national health care programs as political priorities, national budgets, and social values change.
It would make for an intriguing long term longitudinal study to follow up on how often such communication occurs, what the most effective methods are, what impact it has on the lives of adult offspring, who winds up having access to that information, and how the information should be safeguarded, sort of a genetic version of the Add Health Study (aka The National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent to Adult Health).
I don’t know if there is really a good solution. I could be making something out of nothing, or perhaps there’s a solution I haven’t thought of. But it’s high time we started thinking about and debating these issues.
On a totally separate note, I am passing along this communication from NSGC to its members about proposed US Government rules that would dramatically and negatively affect grant funding:
“In May, the White House Office of Management and Budget (OMB) proposed a sweeping rule that would make significant changes to the federal grantmaking process across agencies. Through NSGC’s allied organization, Precision Medicine Coalition, NSGC submitted comments urging OMB to withdraw the rule, arguing it would increase administrative burden, undermine scientific peer review, destabilize research institutions, limit scientific exchange, and restrict international collaboration critical to personalized medicine innovation. In early August, the Senate passed a continuing resolution to fund the federal government through December 11, and included a prohibition on OMB finalizing that rule before December 11. If you would like to urge Congress to pass the legislation to delay the OMB rule, please use this action alert developed by ACMG – American College of Medical Genetics and Genomics: ACTION ALERT“
Don’t let those bastards get away wth this. Their moral corruption and incompetence knows no bottom.

![The Barque of Dante (French: La Barque de Dante), also Dante and Virgil in Hell (Dante et Virgile aux enfers), is the first major painting by the French artist Eugène Delacroix, and is a work signalling the shift in the character of narrative painting, from Neo-Classicism towards Romanticism.[1] The painting loosely depicts events narrated in canto eight of Dante's Inferno; a leaden, smoky mist and the blazing City of Dis form the backdrop against which the poet Dante fearfully endures his crossing of the River Styx. As his barque ploughs through waters heaving with tormented souls, Dante is steadied by Virgil, the learned poet of Classical antiquity.
Pictorially, the arrangement of a group of central, upright figures, and the rational arrangement of subsidiary figures in studied poses, all in horizontal planes, complies with the tenets of the cool and reflective Neo-Classicism that had dominated French painting for nearly four decades. The Barque of Dante was completed for the opening of the Salon of 1822, and currently hangs in the Musée du Louvre, Paris](https://thednaexchange.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/image-13.png?w=960)











