New Brunswick’s Mystery Disease: Why Did the Province Shut Out Federal Experts?
The provincial government’s closed-door investigation has confused experts, stoked fears, and missed an opportunity to solve a possible new brain disorder
BY MATTHEW HALLIDAY
PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRIS DONOVAN
Updated 20:24, Oct. 25, 2021 | Published 15:43, Oct. 22, 2021
IN JANUARY 2020, Alier Marrero, a neurologist in Moncton, New Brunswick, began examining a patient he’d been referred—an eighteen-year-old woman named Gabrielle Cormier from Dalhousie Junction, a small town in the province’s far north.
Her case was bewildering: as a high school student, she started to have difficulty reading, especially on computer screens, where letters appeared hazy and indistinct. By grade twelve, in 2019, her concentration flagged and she was losing strength in her lower body. A few months before graduating, she collapsed at school. An ER doctor chalked it up to a panic attack, but within weeks, she had developed tingling sensations in her legs; over the summer, they turned a sickly grey. In the fall, while studying biology at New Brunswick’s Mount Allison University, Cormier felt her disorientation and mental fog worsening, and her exhaustion grew debilitating.
That winter, Marrero performed a gauntlet of exams: cognition tests, memory tests, blood tests, and scans including EEG, MRI, VEP, and SPECT (a nuclear-imaging test in which a radioactive tracer is injected into the bloodstream). By then, Cormier was having difficulty walking and her vision problems had turned hallucinatory—a fluctuating field across her line of sight that she compares to TV static.
On Valentine’s Day 2020, Cormier underwent a spinal tap for signs of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (CJD), a fatal, swiftly developing disorder caused when brain proteins called prions misfold into an abnormal form. Cormier’s spinal fluid came back clean for CJD, however, as did the other tests, with two exceptions: an EEG showing diminished electrical activity in the brain and a SPECT showing reduced cerebral blood flow. Both suggested neurological impairment, but neither pointed, by itself, to any known illness.
Baffling as it was, Cormier’s condition was familiar to Marrero. A Cuban-born neurologist, he had worked in Moncton since 2012 and, in recent years, had seen more and more patients—often unusually young, equally men and women—displaying bizarre signs of neurological decline. In many cases, the symptoms developed with excruciating speed but began almost inconspicuously with behavioural changes, sleep disturbances, or inexplicable pain. Then came memory difficulties, muscle wasting, and difficulty balancing. Many patients experienced visual hallucinations—some relatively benign (Cormier’s TV static), others unsettling (looming shadows), some nightmarish. There were auditory hallucinations: music, breaking objects, distant voices. Eventually, dementia appeared; even some youthful patients experienced a state akin to late-stage Alzheimer’s. Some developed Capgras delusion, the belief that loved ones have been replaced by impostors. The only universal symptom was myoclonus: chronic muscle spasms so severe that spouses often couldn’t share a bed. Some patients eventually progressed to akinetic mutism: they were unable to speak or move but still experienced spasms.
The symptoms, terrifying and incapacitating, appeared to be expressions of a sickness with no name and no known provenance.
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https://thewalrus.ca/new-brunswicks-medical-mystery/