Like others with chronic fatigue syndrome, Dr. Schweitzer is used to having her illness ignored, mocked or treated as a manifestation of trauma, depression or hypochondria—not only by doctors, colleagues and strangers but by friends, family members and federal researchers, too. So when the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported last year that people with chronic fatigue syndrome are more likely to suffer from “maladaptive personality features”—in particular from “higher scores on neuroticism” and higher rates of “paranoid, schizoid, avoidant, obsessive-compulsive and depressive personality disorders”—Dr. Schweitzer dismissed the research as “incredibly stupid” but “not surprising.” In another recent study, the CDC had reported—also incredibly stupidly, from Dr. Schweitzer’s perspective–that childhood trauma, such as sexual or emotional abuse, was a “an important risk factor” for the illness.
For Dr. Schweitzer, other patients and advocates, and much if not all of the non-CDC research community involved with the illness, those two studies symbolize much of what has gone wrong with the agency’s research program on chronic fatigue syndrome. As the country’s leading public health organization, the CDC has enjoyed remarkable success in the fight against many diseases. But its history with chronic fatigue syndrome, commonly called CFS, is a matter of bitter–and ongoing—dispute. “We’re talking about a million people who are really, really sick with something,” said Dr. Schweitzer, 61, in one of a series of recent conversations. “And we have been mistreated for years by people who are convinced that it’s just personality disorders or stress or some behavior that we can change and miraculously be well. None of us want to be sick or are doing this to ourselves.”
The CDC’s mandate is to investigate threats to the health and safety of the population; develop ways to prevent, disable or mitigate those threats; and disseminate key information to the public, policy-makers, health care providers and other audiences. Given those varied responsibilities, the CDC’s pronouncements about any topic—in this case, chronic fatigue syndrome–exert an enormous impact on policy, clinical care, insurance reimbursement and public attitudes. Advocates say that when the agency reports that people with CFS suffer from paranoid personality disorder, the public remembers the association, as do other scientists, government officials, health care providers, and insurance adjusters.
In fact, since the CDC first investigated an outbreak of a non-resolving, flu-like illness in the Lake Tahoe area in the mid-1980s, the agency’s CFS program has been marked by financial scandal, an epidemiologic strategy rejected as fatally flawed by the top researchers in the field, and the kind of toxic relationship with much of the patient community that can undermine the trust and cooperation needed for effective policy-making and public health strategies. On a more substantive level, over the past quarter-century, the CDC’s research program has yielded little or no actionable information about causes, biomarkers, diagnostic tests, or pharmaceutical treatments. Nor has the agency done much to track long-term outcomes–such as cancer rates, heart attacks and suicides–among people with the illness.
The reason for those failures, critics charge, is that the CDC has spent years looking in the wrong places. Starting with its 1988 report on the illness, they say, the agency has downplayed or dismissed abundant evidence that CFS is an organic disease, or cluster of diseases, characterized by severe immune-system and neurological dysfunctions as well as the frequent presence of multiple viral infections. Instead, say the critics, the agency has focused major resources on investigating proposed psychiatric and trauma-related factors and associations–the personality disorder and trauma studies were published, respectively, in the journals Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics and Archives of General Psychiatry–even though stress and trauma make people more vulnerable to any number of health conditions.
Moreover, they charge, the CDC’s website on the illness has long been a font of misinformation and has been routinely used by insurance companies to deny legitimate claims for tests ordered by doctors. (After years of complaints from patients and doctors, a paragraph that dismissed the usefulness of many tests, including those for various infectious agents, was finally changed this month.) Critics also note that the CDC website does not incorporate much clinical expertise from doctors who have treated patients for years, but it does highlight a behavioral form of treatment—a gradual increase in exercise, known as “graded exercise therapy”–that is widely discredited in the CFS community. Patient surveys and anecdotal testimony, as well as an increasingly robust body of research, suggest that the therapy might cause severe relapses in CFS patients by encouraging over-exertion.
“The CDC has never taken chronic fatigue syndrome seriously,” said San Francisco writer and former psychotherapist Michael Allen, who suffered a severe flu in the early 1990s and has never recovered his health. “They pay lip service to it being a serious physical illness, but in their hearts they think it’s just a form of mental illness.”
Much of the anger for the CDC’s perceived failings over the years has targeted Dr. William Reeves, an epidemiologist and architect of the CFS research program from 1989 until his abrupt move last year to another division of the agency. With his gruff and sometimes dismissive manner, Dr. Reeves was never popular with the patient community, which came to view him as hostile to the search for viral or other organic causes of the illness; many non-CDC researchers echoed that complaint. When it emerged in the late 1990s that the agency had been diverting funds designated for CFS to other programs and then lying to Congress about it, Dr. Reeves—who was in charge of the program while the financial irregularities were taking place–sought and received whistle-blower protection.
Dr. Reeves also enraged the patient community by his refusal to consider changing the much-hated name of the disease—a name endorsed by the CDC in its 1988 paper and aggressively promoted in a public awareness campaign the agency launched in the mid-2000s. Patients say the name, like the term ‘yuppie flu,’ reinforces stereotypes that they are a bunch of self-entitled whiners and malingerers and that the illness itself is a form of hysteria, the latter-day version of the Victorian malady known as “neurasthenia.” That’s why many doctors, researchers and patients have long promoted a less-stigmatizing clinical name for the illness that predated the selection of chronic fatigue syndrome: “myalgic encephalomyelitis,” or ME, which means “muscle pain with inflammation of the central nervous system.”
It is not possible to exaggerate how much patients despise the name and believe it has hindered public understanding—and how much they fault the CDC and Dr. Reeves for championing it. “If they’d hired a focus group to come up with a name that screams ‘silly’ and ‘meaningless,’ they couldn’t have done a better job than ‘chronic fatigue syndrome,’” said Dr. Schweitzer.
In an interview with The New York Times earlier this year, bestselling author Laura Hillenbrand (Seabiscuit, Unbroken), who has lived with CFS for decades, called the name of the illness “condescending” and “so grossly misleading.” She added: “The average person who has this disease, before they got it, we were not lazy people; it’s very typical that people were Type A and hard, hard workers… Fatigue is what we experience, but it is what a match is to an atomic bomb. This disease leaves people bedridden. I’ve gone through phases where I couldn’t roll over in bed. I couldn’t speak. To have it called ‘fatigue’ is a gross misnomer.”
After Dr. Reeves unveiled a revised epidemiologic method for identifying people with CFS, the CDC estimated in 2007 that there were 4 million people in the U.S. with the illness—a remarkable ten-fold increase over the previous CDC estimate in 2003. Other experts dismissed this dramatic rise as an artifact of the agency’s poor epidemiology. Subsequent research reported that the new CDC approach misclassified people with primary depression as having chronic fatigue syndrome, when they did not; that kind of misclassification could easily lead to increased prevalence rates as well as false and possibly harmful research results.
In the late 2000s, leading patient, advocacy and scientific organizations engaged in an increasingly public revolt against Dr. Reeves’ leadership. In January of 2010, the CDC abruptly appointed him as senior advisor for mental health surveillance in another part of the agency. Dr. Elizabeth Unger, an expert on human papillomavirus who had worked with Dr. Reeves for years, was named to replace him—first temporarily, then permanently–as chief of the Chronic Viral Diseases Branch, which currently houses the chronic fatigue syndrome program.