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Why the stats about statins don't tell the whole story

For those without the relevant risk factors, statins aren't the wonder-pill they've been sold as by the media.

Maggie came hot-foot from a “health check” where she’d had her cholesterol measured. “Six point two!” she told me. “The nurse said that’s high.” She sounded rather spooked. “I’d like you to give me a statin.”

I’ve known Maggie for years. She’s a sensible academic in her early fifties. She’d done enough googling to learn that a “high” cholesterol means you are “at risk” of cardiovascular disease (CVD) – heart attacks and strokes – and that statins lower cholesterol and reduce CVD risk by 25 per cent. Her request for treatment made perfect sense to her . . . except she had fallen for the same myth that leads to several million people in the UK swallowing a statin every day for no good reason at all.

Focus for a moment on that 25 per cent risk reduction. If you’re at high risk of something nasty, then lopping off a quarter of that risk makes sense. The people at greatest risk of heart attacks and strokes are those who have previously suffered one. Giving statins to these patients (secondary prevention) does convey modest benefits. If you take 100 heart attack survivors and get them to take a statin for five years, you’ll save one life, prevent two or three non-fatal heart attacks, and avert one stroke. That is worthwhile, even if the statins will fail to prevent at least 15 other heart attacks/strokes, and will cause two patients to develop diabetes, and provoke muscle weakness in ten others. Notice, though: 95 per cent of these highest-risk patients will derive absolutely no benefit from their five years of statin consumption.

Come back to Maggie. Using a statin on someone without existing CVD is termed primary prevention. Maggie has no other risk factors (high blood pressure, smoking, diabetes, and so on) and so her chance of developing heart disease is very low. In Maggie’s case, because her risk is so small to start with, a 25 per cent reduction is minuscule and meaningless. You’d have to treat hundreds of Maggies for years on end to hope to make a jot of positive difference to one of them, and the side effects from statins (we’re still discovering what these are) will far outweigh any putative benefit.

There are large numbers of people just like Maggie who are taking statins and who should come off the tablets. But what about individuals at greater risk – people with high blood pressure or obesity, or smokers? Is there a level of risk at which primary prevention is worthwhile? For some time the UK’s National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) has suggested a threshold of 20 per cent risk over ten years.

At first glance, the trial data does suggest a marginal impact at this sort of level: roughly two heart attacks/strokes are averted among 100 people treated for five years. But, crucially, death rates are not altered; no lives are saved by using statins. This probably reflects the harm also caused by statins, and how any small reduction in CVD is negated by disability and death from other causes.

Taking up regular exercise, or adopting a Mediterranean diet, reduces CVD risk by degrees comparable with statins – in the case of diet, substantially more so. If someone smokes, quitting is similarly helpful. What’s more, once one has adopted these lifestyle changes, statins become virtually redundant. Lifestyle modification is also cheap; there are very few harms besides. And, unlike with statins, these measures protect against other causes of death and disability, such as cancer and the frailties of advancing age. Oh, and they’re good for mental health, too.

This February, NICE initiated a consultation on halving its primary prevention threshold to 10 per cent risk. If achieved, this would add hugely to the six million people in the UK who take statins on prescription. Rather than exacerbate our statin fetish, NICE could design simple decision aids that would help doctors understand the more effective improvements that lifestyle changes can bring to health and well-being – and which would illustrate these benefits to patients.

Once we’d talked things through, Maggie resolved to start attending the university gym a few times a week. She decided to forget the statin prescription, too. As a nation, we’d do well to try the same. 

This article first appeared in the 26 February 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Scotland: a special issue

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An antibiotic-resistant superbug is silently spreading through UK hospitals

There have already been outbreaks in Manchester, London, Edinburgh, and Birmingham, but deaths are not centrally recorded. 

Lying in a hospital bed, four months pregnant, Emily Morris felt only terror. She had caught a urinary tract infection and it was resistant to common antibiotics. Doctors needed to treat it as it could harm the baby, but the only drugs that could work hadn’t been tested on pregnant women before; the risks were unknown. Overwhelmed, Emily and her husband were asked to make a decision. A few hours later, gripping each other’s arms, they decided she should be given the drugs.

In Emily’s case, the medicine worked and her son Emerson (pictured below with Emily) was born healthy. But rising antibiotic resistance means people are now suffering infections for which there is no cure. Doctors have long warned that decades of reliance on these drugs will lead to a "post-antibiotic era"– a return to time where a scratch could kill and common operations are too risky.

It sounds like hyperbole – but this is already a reality in the UK. In the last four years 25 patients have suffered infections immune to all the antibiotics Public Health England tests for in its central lab, the Bureau of Investigative Journalism has discovered.

While these cases are rare, reports of a highly resistant superbug are rising, and infection control doctors are worried. Carbapenem resistant enterobacteriaceae (CRE) are not only difficult to pronounce, but deadly. These are bugs that live in the human gut but can cause an infection if they get into the wrong place, like the urinary tract or a wound. They have evolved to become immune to most classes of antibiotics – so if someone does become infected, there are only a few drugs that will still work. If CRE bacteria get into the bloodstream, studies show between 40 per cent and 50 per cent of people die.

These bugs are causing huge problems in India, certain parts of Asia, the Middle East and some countries in southern Europe. Until recently, most infections were seen in people who had travelled abroad, had family members who had, or had been in a foreign hospital. The boom in cheap cosmetic surgery in India was blamed for a spate of infections in Britain.

Now, doctors are finding people who have never boarded a plane are carrying the bug. There have already been outbreaks in Manchester, London, Liverpool, Leeds, Edinburgh, Birmingham, Nottingham, Belfast, Dublin and Limerick among other areas. Patients found with CRE have to be treated in side rooms in hospital so the bacteria does not spread and harm other vulnerable patients. But in many of Britain’s Victorian-built hospitals, single rooms are in sparse supply. Deaths from CRE aren’t centrally recorded by the government - but it is thought hundreds have already died. 

Across the country, doctors are being forced to reach for older, more toxic drugs to treat these infections. The amount of colistin – called the "last hope" antibiotic as it is one of few options still effective against CRE infections - rose dramatically in English hospitals between 2014 and 2015, the Bureau has revealed. Colistin was taken off the shelves soon after it was introduced, as it can harm the kidneys and nervous system in high doses, but was reintroduced when infections became immune to standard treatment. The more we use colistin the more bacteria develop resistance to it. It’s only a matter of time before it stops working too, leaving doctors’ arsenal near-empty when it comes to the most dangerous superbug infections.

Due to a kidney problem, Emily Morris suffers repeat urinary tract infections and has to be hospitalised most months. Her son Emerson comes to visit her, understanding his mummy is ill. If she catches a superbug infection, she can still be given intravenous antibiotics to stem it. But she worries about her son. By the time he is an adult, if he gets ill, there may be no drugs left that work.

Madlen Davies is a health and science reporter for the Bureau of Investigative Journalism