YOUR GENES?

If there were an easily available test that could tell you whether you are genetically predisposed to obesity, anxiety or Alzheimer’s, would you take it? Liz Jones goes under the microscope to find out whether her problems are caused by nature or nurture

Iam at my desk, surrounded by three distinct piles. On my left is a bottle of champagne and a packet of espresso beans. In the middle is a box of citalopram, an antidepressant drug of the ‘selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor’ type (roughly translated, a box of happy pills). And on my right are white bottles of supplements: magnesium, for memory; B6 complex, which helps boost energy; GABA, supposed to counter anxiety; SOD – the name makes me laugh – which is an antioxidant; and hydroxo B12, good for those who don’t eat meat.

For the past eight years, since my divorce, I have largely resorted – to help me sleep, to stave off panic attacks – to the left-hand pile: coffee, champagne and crisps, because I can’t eat much (I’ve lost two stone). Unable to breathe last autumn, having been threatened with numerous bankruptcy hearings (I lost one of my regular jobs in January 2014, along with half my income), I went to my GP. She did all sorts of tests, which showed I’m ostensibly healthy, and prescribed the aforementioned pile in the middle. The chemical pile. Although paranoid, depressed, insomniac, angry and manic (I can’t stop cleaning), I have resisted taking the pills. All my life, I’ve wanted to be healthy, and am scared of anything mind-altering. The closest I ever got to drugs was in the early 1980s, when I took huge quantities of brewer’s yeast. I carried my own decaf coffee with me wherever I went, and only started to drink alcohol – champagne – on Millennium eve. I haven’t eaten meat or fish since I was 11. I’m not ready to give in to chemicals. I’m afraid they will change me too much. Being anxious is who I am. Even aged five I was too nervous to leave my mum’s side and enter the playground.

The issue of exactly how much genes triumph over nurture is highly contentious: Oliver James’s new book Not in Your Genes argues that conditions such as bipolar, drug addiction and schizophrenia have little to do with genes and more to do with your childhood, your gender, birth order, your parents’ hopes and fears. On the other hand, many geneticists believe our genes are allpowerful. Researchers in the US have found that the heritability of obesity is about the same as it is for height. A radical plan revealed in May will involve NHS patients being offered free DNA tests to identify genetic variations linking weight gain with certain types of foods and then being prescribed tailor-made diets. (Perhaps this will finally end the culture of blame surrounding the

obese and their children.) Testing like this could be beneficial in other ways, too: in the US, 100,000 people found to have the Parkinson’s gene have been enlisted by the Michael J Fox Foundation in a study to find a cure.

The number of genetic tests available has mushroomed: 23andMe, founded in 2006 (the name comes from the number of pairs of chromosomes that make up human DNA), is an affordable (£149) way for people to find out their susceptibilities to certain diseases and conditions – which means the issue is also contentious. You can now buy home saliva kits that not only tell you your ancestry, but whether you can tolerate caffeine or might be in danger of Alzheimer’s. No one should be given a diagnosis of the breast cancer gene BRCA1 without support, but I do want to know whether I am hardwired for anxiety and perhaps not entirely to blame for my shortcomings.

The large pile of supplements and the accompanying diet sheet – a sort of home detox (no caffeine, fizzy water or alcohol) – come courtesy of a remarkable couple of young men.

Daniel and Cornelius O’Shaughnessy are brothers, both based in London. Cornelius, 36, is a mind and meditation expert, while Daniel, 32, is trained in functional medicine, a director of the British Association of Applied Nutrition and Nutritional Therapy, and registered with the Complementary and Natural Healthcare Council. He has a special interest in detoxification, rejuvenating nutrition, depression, anxiety, energy imbalances and weight management.

Together, they formed BodhiMaya, which holds bespoke retreats and detoxes. Now, in addition, comes BodhiGen, taking what they do a giant leap forward into genetic analysis. The premise is simple: they test your DNA by taking a sample of your saliva to see how your genetic make-up affects the way you function day-to-day, and come up with a prescribed programme of nutrition (nutrigenomics is the study of the way food and genes interact), supplements and lifestyle changes, such as taking up exercise or meditation. They have had success with weight loss, anti-ageing, diabetes and even infertility – all of which have a genetic component that can be managed with diet. You can, in addition, opt to have a disease-risk analysis, which reveals whether you are in danger of developing dementia, heart disease or breast cancer.

I meet Cornelius first, at the BodhiMaya consulting rooms in Harley Street. I’m in a state when I arrive: I was worried I’d be late, worried I wouldn’t find a parking space. But for the first time, I meet someone who doesn’t judge me.

When Cornelius was 23, he had a severe nervous breakdown, caused by illness and the end of a relationship. He didn’t respond to medication and spent the next decade or so searching for a solution, mainly in India. He learned how to meditate and to practise cranial sacral therapy and yoga.

Far from being ashamed, he tells me that, ‘People who have gone through mental illness are like a plant grown in the desert: you become stronger, more resilient. A person who sails through life is like a plant grown in a hothouse: they buckle at the first obstacle.’

He assures me everyone feels anxious: I have to manage it, not let it take over my life. He lays his hands on my head, performing cranial sacral therapy (‘I’m a man of science and I can’t tell you how this works, but it does’) and I try to meditate.

Cornelius tells me to breathe, and I balk. I once visited a ‘breath guru’ who told me to breathe deeply, which I did – I had a panic attack. I drove home and threw up all weekend, unable to even drink water. This time I’ve booked a hotel in case I have some sort of fit. Cornelius is careful. He tells me I have to meditate each day. I am to sit, quietly, and not let negative thoughts spiral.

Later, I meet Daniel. He has already sent my saliva off to the lab and now has my DNA results. He asks if I’m worried about what my results might reveal, but I tell him I am so low, any diagnosis seems preferable to the disease I have now: unable to smile, enjoy life or sleep. I only have two concerns about my DNA. My mother suffered from osteoarthritis most of her life, a painful, debilitating disease that eventually meant she was bedridden; all three of my sisters now have arthritis. My mother also had Alzheimer’s for the last ten years of her life: was this wholly genetic, or partly due to her confinement?

The DNA confirms I am apparently mostly boring old British and Irish, with a smattering of Italian, East Asian and Native American ancestry. My maternal line genes are U5a2C, a subgroup of U5, one of the oldest groups that share the same ancestry in Europe. (I have no paternal line results, as that is passed down from the Y chromosome, from father to son.) I am then told how my genes are affecting me now, as well as which diseases I may be more likely to develop – although Daniel stresses these results are not inevitable: ‘You might not be able to change your DNA, but diet, nutritional status, toxic load, environmental factors and stress influence how genes are expressed.’ In other words, I can, in theory, help to manage any negative effects of my genes, and even avoid some ‘bad’ genes being switched on.

And it turns out I have won the health lottery: the test finds no genetic predisposition to the arthritis that floored my mother. Nor do I have the more common breast cancer genes that the test looks for, or any indicator of heart disease, Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s. But all this is emerging science and nothing is conclusive. Daniel tells me that there may yet be undiscovered genes that play a role in these conditions.

The only red warning Daniel has found is the one for deafness: I have been profoundly deaf since childhood. The gene is GJB2 – variants of it are the most common cause of congenital, nonsyndromic hearing loss – and I have two As, meaning deafness was written into my fate long before I was born. I also have a warning light for the gene for anxiety, mood swings and depression: it’s a relief to know I was born anxious, explaining why I was so afraid to go into the playground aged five, am so afraid now. The gene MAOA has two red Gs, which means I may also be prone to OCD (hence all the San Pellegrino bottles in my fridge with their labels aligned). Another worry surfaces. My eldest sister Clare died from alcohol-related illness. Is there an alcohol addiction gene, and if so, do I have it? ‘The gene is called CHRM2, which predisposes someone to alcohol addiction or drug dependence. You don’t have it.’

I am given my ‘genetic diet’ and supplement plan, put together from my results, as well as from crucial pieces of information from a lifestyle questionnaire, which will help to counter my genetic tendency to feel fear all the time. I am

My mother had Alzheimer’s for the last ten years of her life. Was this genetic?

I have a warning light for the gene for anxiety. It is a relief to know I was born anxious

to eat a main meal three times a day, which must contain protein (tofu, beans, lentils or goat’s cheese). I’m also to have two snacks (an oatcake with sunflower seed hummus, or crudités with pumpkin seed butter), moderate carbs, eight vegetables a day – mainly leafy green ones, but anything grown above ground is good – drink 2.5 litres of still water, and cut out the champagne and the coffee (my genes make me mildly intolerant to caffeine). Which is all well and good, but the reality is I eat one meal a day if I’m lucky, I never snack, and if someone takes away my espresso in the morning, I want to stab them.

I’m deflated that I’m to limit bananas and am only allowed gluten-free bread. I am not to eat aged cheese, aubergine, strawberries, pineapple or garlic. Who on earth said garlic was bad for you? Apparently it contains sulphur, and I am heterozygous for CBS 677T, which in English means I’m intolerant to any foods containing sulphur, such as onions and leeks. My gene mutation also means I can’t tolerate much animal protein, so I’m genetically better suited to my vegetarian diet. I’m not allowed sugar or diet drinks, but I never touch them anyway.

I’m also told to relax or meditate for 20 minutes a day, exercise two or three times a week (I exercise every day, walking dogs and looking after horses, so that bit is easy) and to sleep up to ten hours a night – oh, yes, please! I am to sweat, perform skin brushing, breathe and stretch. All of which is to try to tell my body to stop worrying.

Which is why I’m seated here with my three piles. I sit and I think about it. Do I really want to continue as I am? Surviving on adrenalin? Unable to maintain the most basic of relationships? As Cornelius said, ‘If you can control your anxiety, you will be head and shoulders above everyone else. As you are a perfectionist, you worry about every little detail. All I want is for you to feel peace.’

So I choose the pile on my right. The magnesium capsules are like horse pills. The B12 capsules smell of raspberries and are quite small. The B6 are like yellow bullets. I’ve decided I can’t swallow all these tablets, and instead I put them in a thrice- daily smoothie: berries, yoghurt, protein powder (I’m worried I’ll turn into Sylvester Stallone, but Daniel assures me that won’t happen) and coconut water. My favourite smoothie is carrots and oranges, and I quickly check my chart to see if that is allowed. It is!

WEEK ONE

I am still very anxious, and find even just 20 minutes trying to meditate is a waste of time. I am simply far too busy. I feel, without a flute of cold bubbly to look forward to each evening, that life is not worth living. I can’t even think of eight vegetables that grow above ground, let alone eat them. I cannot eat three meals a day; by meal two I gag. I am not cut out for snacks! But I have cut down my caffeine. I am sleeping a little better. I feel I have to find a different way to treat myself every evening for having survived the day: an oily bath, a sunset walk by the river with my dogs…

WEEK TWO

I am actually enjoying the ritual of counting out my supplements, tipping the powders into my fruit smoothies and taking the time to drink them. I have felt a little more positive, although I still have bad days where my heart races and I cannot breathe. I have been facing up to things, too: bills, emails from the bank, voicemails – things that normally terrify me. I realise a lot of my troubles – lack of money, lack of friends – are due to my fear. The fear came first; I was born with it. Then it went on to ruin my life. Until now, I have been blaming others. The truth is, if I had been more confident I would not have allowed myself to be treated badly. I would have read contracts with employers, agents, mortgage companies closely, not just be grateful to have work, a home. Next time, I am going to be confident. Stand up for myself. Insist on what I want out of life.

BodhiGen testing costs £2,195, including DNA test, four consultations and plan; £2,495 with disease-risk element added. Tests and consultations by post and Skype are also available; bodhimaya.com