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There is a crisis of confidence in many
psychiatric drugs. In the first of a two-part series about mind
medicines, James Kingsland looks at the Prozac class of
antidepressants. Once thought to make you feel 'better than normal',
now there are fears that they raise the risk of suicide, and some even
question how well they work
(continued)
It appears that
manufacturers have been keeping a wealth of research secret. Last
month the state of New York filed a lawsuit against GlaxoSmithKline (GSK),
alleging that it suppressed research revealing the suicide risk to
under-18s from its SSRI, Seroxat (Paxil in the US). GSK denies the
charge, saying it publicised the results in journals or at medical
conferences.
So what are we to make
of the conflicting claims surrounding these drugs? Should SSRIs still
be used at all? Can we trust anything the drug companies say? With
campaigners calling for new laws to force firms to publish all their
research data, the SSRI saga could have far-reaching implications.
Depending on the result of the New York lawsuit, as well as ongoing
inquiries, the pharmaceutical industry could be facing its biggest
ever shake-up. Richard Brook of the UK mental health charity Mind,
says: "There is a clear case for government changing this situation as
a matter of urgency."
The story begins more
than 30 years ago. The antidepressants available then - which are
still used today - are reasonably effective. Trials show they help, on
average, about two-thirds of patients to recover, compared with
one-third of those given placebos. But patients often stop taking
these drugs because of side effects. A major group called the
tricyclics, for example, can cause dry mouth, constipation and
irregular heart beat.
These drugs
indiscriminately affect a range of chemicals that relay the signals
between nerve cells, namely serotonin, dopamine, noradrenaline and
acetylcholine. Researchers began to suspect the drugs' antidepressant
effects stemmed from their raising levels of serotonin. Suppose a drug
could be found that selectively targeted this chemical? It should have
the therapeutic effects without the side effects.
US firm Eli Lilly
found just such a drug, which works by blocking the reabsorption of
serotonin from nerve synapses in the brain - hence "selective
serotonin reuptake inhibitor" (SSRI). It was launched in 1988 as
Prozac. Trials seemed to show that it was about as effective as the
tricyclics but without the side effects. It was also found to be far
less deadly if patients took an overdose - an important advantage for
any antidepressant.
Soon everyone was
talking about it. The word was that Prozac was worth taking even if
you were just down in the dumps. More than an antidepressant, it was
becoming a lifestyle drug, and was nicknamed "bottled sunshine". In
his seminal book, Listening to Prozac, US psychiatrist Peter
Kramer described how the medicine could turn pessimists into optimists
and conquer shyness.
With successive
launches of other SSRIs through the 1990s, firms began marketing them
not just for depression but also for conditions that doctors would
previously have barely recognised as illnesses, let alone treated with
drugs. The broadest licence is held by Seroxat, made by GSK. As well
as depression and its common attendant, anxiety, Seroxat can be taken
for obsessive-compulsive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder,
panic attacks and "social phobia". Last year, GSK's worldwide sales of
Seroxat were £2.7 billion.
But right from the
start there were hints that all was not well. In 1990, US doctors
reported in a medical journal that six patients had become suicidal
when they started taking Prozac. Similar reports followed, the common
factor seeming to be that patients became highly agitated soon after
starting treatment. But the drug firms were dismissive. Was it so
surprising that people with depression became anxious or suicidal? The
cause was the disease itself, they said, not the medication.
These worries did
nothing to slow the steady expansion of the SSRI market during the
1990s
(see Graph). Whenever challenged, the companies argued that the
evidence was "anecdotal" - collections of cases rather than systematic
trials.
This was a major coup
because drug firms routinely keep secret the reams of research data
they hold on their products. Firms applying for a licence for one of
their drugs are legally obliged to disclose the results of relevant
trials to regulators, but there's no guarantee that this always
happens. And firms commonly request the data is kept confidential for
commercial reasons, so there is no way for outsiders to scrutinise the
regulators' decisions.
Healy discovered that
SmithKline's unpublished results suggested that Seroxat causes
agitation in about 1 in 4 people. In one trial, a volunteer committed
suicide. There is no way of knowing if Seroxat had been responsible in
that case, however.
The balance of
evidence convinced the jury that the drug had been a major factor
influencing Donald Schell's actions. His family were awarded $6.4
million in damages.
While these
revelations concerned the use of SSRIs by adults, it was children and
adolescents that next became the focus of controversy. In the UK, no
SSRI has ever been licensed for treating depression in under-18s, and
in the US only Prozac has this licence. So in this age group most
SSRIs were being used "off-label" - in other words, outside the terms
of their licence (a common occurrence, in fact, for many medicines
given to under-18s). Because firms had not applied for a licence, they
had never had to prove their drugs were safe and effective in this
age-group.
In April last year,
however, the UK Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA),
set up an expert panel to review the safety and efficacy of SSRIs,
starting with their use in under-18s. It asked firms to send in all
the product data they had. By December, it had banned all the SSRIs
except Prozac for this age group, citing poor evidence of efficacy and
a raised risk of self-harm and suicidal thoughts.
The problems for SSRI
manufacturers are unlikely to stop here; research into their use in
adults is now being scrutinised. For a start, most early trials were
not designed to show if the drugs increased suicidal tendencies. Such
effects were often disguised under the general heading of "emotional
lability", or instability. "It was dressed up in other terms," says
Tim Kendall of the Royal College of Psychiatrists' Research Unit in
London.
The suicide risk could
have been downplayed in another way, Healy says. In the trials it was
common practice to label as "placebo suicides" ones that occurred in
the so-called "washout" period - when patients stopped taking any
medicines in the week before being assigned to either placebo or drug.
This would artificially raise the placebo suicide rate, so even if the
SSRI increased the number of suicides, it would look no worse than the
placebo rate. Healy re-analysed the raw data from trials involving
around 17,000 patients in total taking a placebo or an SSRI,
discounting washout suicides. SSRIs seemed linked with over twice the
risk of suicidal acts as placebo (Journal of Psychiatry &
Neuroscience, vol 28, p 331).
Not everyone shares
Healy's views of course. His article appeared alongside one by Yvon
Lapierre, psychiatrist-in-chief at the Royal Ottawa Hospital,
disagreeing with Healy's arguments (p 340). "The case for the SSRIs
adding significantly to the risk of suicide is not convincing,"
Lapierre told New Scientist. He believes that unlike in
depression, an increased risk of suicide has not been seen in other
conditions for which the SSRIs are licensed - suggesting that in
depression, it could be the patient's original illness causing the
problem.
But it is not just the
drugs' safety that is now being questioned - their effectiveness is
too. One criticism of the early Prozac trials in adults is that
patients who showed symptoms of agitation were given tranquillisers.
Apart from masking potential side effects, any improvement in the
patients' condition could have been down to these, rather than Prozac.The UK's influential
National Institute for Clinical Excellence (NICE) is now drawing up
guidelines for treating depression in adults, having analysed about
1000 published trials. The draft version concludes that in mild
depression, SSRIs perform on average no better than a placebo.
So where do these
revelations leave people suffering from depression? Most doctors
believe SSRIs still have a role to play, because some patients do seem
to be helped by them. Lapierre, for example, says: "The SSRIs have an
important role and I do not feel [it] should be diminished by the
recent flow of ink on their alleged causative role in the risk of
suicide." Even Healy admits that SSRIs have their place. "I have had
lots of patients do very well on these drugs," he says. Unfortunately
there is not yet any way to predict which patients the SSRIs will
help, and which the drugs will harm.But in future doctors
may well become more cautious about dishing out SSRIs. If the final
NICE guidelines, due out in October, reflect the current draft, UK
doctors may start recommending that patients with mild depression try
non-drug treatments first, such as psychotherapy or exercise
programmes.
Meanwhile, the MHRA
expert panel on SSRIs is due to report on their use in adults in the
next few months. The equivalent body in the US, the Food and Drug
Administration, has already made manufacturers include stronger
warnings about suicidal behaviour on labels and is carrying out a
major review of the drugs in children, also due to report shortly. The
Australian regulatory body has advised doctors to monitor children
taking SSRIs, to watch for suicidal tendencies.
But whatever the
outcome for SSRIs, some campaigners argue that this whole sorry tale
is a sign that there must be fundamental changes in the way
pharmaceutical firms operate.
A popular move would
be to force firms to publish the results of all trials they carry out.
At the moment, there is nothing to stop them carrying out numerous
trials in "off-label" conditions, publishing the ones that give
positive results and burying negative ones. In April, a paper appeared
in The Lancet that laid bare just how this can distort the
clinical picture of a drug's risk-benefit ratio (vol 363, p 1341). It
was a systematic comparison of the published trials of SSRIs in
under-18s with unpublished ones that had come to light from the MHRA's
inquiry. While both sets of trials supported Prozac, it was a
different story for Seroxat and another SSRI called sertraline (made
by Pfizer). The published trials suggest a small benefit from using
these drugs, but the unpublished trials suggest the increased risk of
suicide and self-harm outweigh the benefits.
"It's outrageous that
patients should not have access to information about the effects of
the drugs they're expected to take," says Iain Chalmers, a member of
the R&D advisory committee of NICE. The companies' defence has long
been that journals are not interested in publishing negative or
equivocal findings. Richard Ley, a spokesman for the Association of
the British Pharmaceutical Industry told New Scientist:
"Industry doesn't have control as to what gets printed. If you have a
trial that doesn't find anything exciting, who's going to print that?"
"There is no evidence
to justify that defence," Chalmers says. He points out that
open-access, electronic publishers like BioMed Central are committed
to publishing all well-conducted research. "The companies don't even
have to go through journals - they could publish on their own
websites." There are now calls for a central, worldwide register of
all ongoing trials with predicted publication dates, which would
prevent firms from burying results they don't like.
Healy is concerned
that even this would not go far enough. He wants not just the final,
processed results, but all raw data from trials to be made public -
including confidential data held by regulators. But surely we can
trust official government regulators to correctly interpret the data?
Perhaps not - they didn't pick up on the washout suicides, points out
Healy, despite having the data since the 1990s.
The regulatory bodies
face other criticisms. In March, Richard Brook from Mind resigned from
the MHRA's expert panel on SSRIs, complaining that the agency had sat
on a potential safety problem for more than a decade. The MHRA had
just warned doctors that raising the dose of Seroxat above the
recommended level had no clinical benefit, and led to more side
effects. Brook was outraged that it had taken them so long to act, and
that their warning letter to doctors failed to acknowledge this
oversight. US campaigners say the FDA, too, has known of the suicide
risk from SSRIs for years without doing anything.
Forcing manufacturers
to make all their raw data available might also allay concerns that
even published papers can be misleading. In May, an analysis of
published studies of SSRIs in children revealed a catalogue of
shortcomings in trial design and the presentation of results (British
Medical Journal, vol 328, p 879). The effect was to downplay
problems and exaggerate benefits, the authors concluded.
Strict new laws may be
unpopular with drug firms, of course. Pfizer, for example, told New
Scientist: "We do not need legislation to do this, nor is it a
realistic suggestion. We already share all appropriate data on safety,
quality and efficacy with expert regulators who are best placed to
evaluate it." Eli Lilly did not comment. GSK, however, has pledged to
put results of all its trials online, although these will only be
summaries, not the raw data. "We feel that summaries would be more
useful than complete studies," a spokesman says.
But whether they like
it or not, the scale of the unfolding crisis for SSRI manufacturers
may make at least some legal changes inevitable, Healy believes. The
upcoming New York lawsuit against GSK may take years to come to court,
but it is being seen as a high noon for the drugs industry
(New Scientist, 12 June, p 4). Suits against other firms
could follow. For the industry, says Healy, the lawsuit is "just the
kind of thing that could make this a very big crisis indeed". |