|
|
|
Cell from Hell | Page 2 of
4
In 1997, smaller kills repeatedly closed rivers in
the Chesapeake, decimating the seafood industry,
which lost approximately $43 million. National
headlines screamed about "Pfiesteria hysteria." The
outbreaks prompted Congress to release $15 million
in emergency funding for research.
|
With 75
percent of Americans living - and
producing nourishing sewage, fertilizers,
and other runoff - within 50 miles of the
coasts, problems from Pfiesteria and
similar organisms are on the rise.
|
Chief among Pfiesteria researchers is JoAnn
Burkholder, an aquatic biologist at N.C. State. She
first identified Pfiesteria as the culprit in local
waters, and is now the world's foremost authority
on the creature.
The microbe is a dinoflagellate, a marine
organism that is neither plant nor animal but lives
in a twilight zone between the two kingdoms. Such
toxic microbes are multiplying worldwide, including
Pfiesteria's famous cousin, red tide. But unlike
any other creature on Earth, Pfiesteria has the
ability to morph into 24 different forms, depending
on its dinner plans, either grazing on algae or
devouring other dinoflagellates, sewage, or fish.
When fish swim by, the microbe undergoes what
Burkholder calls a Jekyll-and-Hyde personality
transformation. The formerly benign little creature
emits a powerful toxin that stuns the fish and eats
sores into their flesh. Then it feasts on its
victims. No other dinoflagellate uses toxin to
attack prey, making Pfiesteria the Tyrannosaurus
rex of the dinoflagellate world.
But fish are not the only victims. One autumn
evening in 1992, Glasgow was cleaning aquariums
that had contained Pfiesteria at N.C. State. In
adjacent tanks, fish that had been "fed" to the
organism were writhing in death throes, covered
with open sores. After about 20 minutes, Glasgow
began gasping for breath, his eyes burning. His
legs went numb and he lost coordination. Vomiting,
he escaped the lab by crawling out on hands and
knees. Outside in the cool air, he felt better. He
wondered what had happened.
Months passed. Working long hours cultivating
Pfiesteria in a lab that was later discovered to
have faulty ventilation, Glasgow began to grow
increasingly disoriented. He couldn't find his way
home from work, remember numbers long enough to
dial a telephone, or even read. Others in the lab
got sick, including Burkholder. "We didn't know
enough about it to know how concerned we should be
[about adequate protection]," Glasgow recalls.
million more died in
1995."
Many of their acute symptoms,
including memory loss, skin sores that resembled
acid burns, and Multiple Sclerosis-like
coordination problems, disappeared after a few
months away from the toxin. But some still suffer
from blinding headaches, recurrent infections, and
respiratory difficulties. "We've had lingering
problems for eight years now," says Burkholder.
Doctors have advised them never to handle the toxin
again. more >
>
|