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About this Author
Derek Lowe
Derek Lowe, an Arkansan by birth, got his BA from Hendrix College and his PhD in organic chemistry from Duke before spending time in Germany on a Humboldt Fellowship on his post-doc. He's worked for several major pharmaceutical companies since 1989 on drug discovery projects against schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, diabetes, osteoporosis and other diseases. To contact Derek email him directly: derekb.lowe@gmail.com Twitter: Dereklowe

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« Pharma 101 | Pharmacokinetics | Press Coverage »

May 10, 2010

Unlovely Polyphenols

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Posted by Derek

Here's a new paper from the folks at the Burnham Institute and UCSD on a new target for vaccinia virus. They're going after a virulence factor (N1L) through computational screening, which is a challenge, since this is a protein-protein interaction.

They pulled out a number of structures, which have some modest activity in cell infection assays. In addition, they showed through calorimetry that the compounds do appear to be affecting the target protein, specifically its equilibrium between monomeric and oligomeric forms. But the structures of their best hits. . .well, here's the table. You can ignore compounds 6 and 8; they show up as cytotoxic. But the whole list is pretty ghastly, at least to my eyes.

These sorts of highly aromatic polyphenol structures have two long traditions in medicinal chemistry: showing activity in assays, for the first part, and not being realizable as actual drugs, for the second. There's no doubt that they can do a lot of things; it's just that getting them to do them in a real-world situation is not trivial. Part of the problem is specificity (and associated toxicity) and part of it is pharmacokinetics. As you'd imagine, these compounds can have rather funky clearance behavior, what with all those phenols.

So I'd regard these as proof-of-concept compounds that validate N1L as a target. I think that we'll need to wait for someone to format up an assay for high-throughput (non-virtual) screening to see if something more tractable comes up. Either that, or rework the virtual screens on the basis that we've seen enough polyphenols come up on this target already. . .

Note: readers of the paper will note that our old friend resveratrol turns up as an active compound as well. It's very much in the polyphenol tradition; make of that what you will.

Comments (25) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: In Silico | Infectious Diseases | Pharmacokinetics

April 6, 2010

A Brief and Not At All Intemperate Evaluation of the Current Literature

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Posted by Derek

In keeping with my Modest Literature Proposal from earlier this year, I would like to briefly point out a Journal of Medicinal Chemistry paper on potential Alzheimer's therapies. Whose lead compound has a nine-carbon alkyl chain in the middle of it. And weighs 491. And has two quaternary nitrogens. Which structural features will, in all likelihood, lead to said compound demonstrating roughly this amount of blood-brain barrier penetration, assuming it reaches sufficient blood levels to get that far. That is all.

Comments (22) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Alzheimer's Disease | Pharmacokinetics | The Scientific Literature

April 1, 2010

What Do Nanoparticles Really Look Like?

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Posted by Derek

We're all going to be hearing a lot about nanoparticles in the next few years (some may feel as if they've already heard quite enough, but there's nothing to be done about that). The recent report of preliminary siRNA results using them as a delivery system will keep things moving along with even more interest. So it's worth checking out this new paper, which illustrates how we're going to have to think about these things.

The authors show that it's not necessarily the carefully applied coat proteins of these nanoparticles that are the first thing a cell notices. Rather, it's the second sphere of endogenous proteins that end up associated with the particle, which apparently can be rather specific and persistent. The authors make their case with admirable understatement:

The idea that the cell sees the material surface itself must now be re-examined. In some specific cases the cell receptor may have a higher preference for the bare particle surface, but the time scale for corona unbinding illustrated here would still typically be expected to exceed that over which other processes (such as nonspecific uptake) have occurred. Thus, for most cases it is more likely that the biologically relevant unit is not the particle, but a nano-object of specified size, shape, and protein corona structure. The biological consequences of this may not be simple.

Update: fixed this post by finally adding the link to the paper!

Comments (3) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Biological News | Pharmacokinetics

March 25, 2010

Nanoparticles and RNA: Now In Humans

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Posted by Derek

In recent years, readers of the top-tier journals have been bombarded with papers on nanotechnology as a possible means of drug delivery. At the same time, there's been a tremendous amount of time and money put into RNA-derived therapies, trying to realize the promise of RNA interference for human therapies. Now we have what I believe is the first human data combining both approaches.

Nature has a paper from CalTech, UCLA, and several other groups with the first data on a human trial of siRNA delivered through targeted nanoparticles. This is only the second time siRNA has been tried systemically on humans at all. Most of the previous clinical work has been involved direct injection of various RNA therapies into the eye (which is a much less hostile environment than the bloodstream), but in 2007, a single Gleevec-resistant leukaemia patient was dosed in a nontargeted fashion.

In this study, metastatic melanoma patients, a population that is understandably often willing to put themselves out at the edge of clinical research, were injected with engineered nanoparticles from Calando Pharmaceuticals, containing siRNA against the ribonucleotide reductase M2 (RRM2) target, which is known to be involved in malignancy. The outside of the particles contained a protein ligand to target the transferrin receptor, an active transport system known to be upregulated in tumor cells. And this was to be the passport to deliver the RNA.

A highly engineered system like this addresses several problems at once: how do you keep the RNA you're dosing from being degraded in vivo? (Wrap it up in a polymer - actually, two different ones in spherical layers). How do you deliver it selectively to the tissue of interest? (Coat the outside with something that tumor cells are more likely to recognize). How do you get the RNA into the cells once it's arrived? (Make that recognition protein is something that gets actively imported across the cell membrane, dragging everything else along with it). This system had been tried out in models all the way up to monkeys, and in each case the nanoparticles could be seen inside the targeted cells.

And that was the case here. The authors report biopsies from three patients, pre- and post-dosing, that show uptake into the tumor cells (and not into the surrounding tissue) in two of the three cases. What's more, they show that a tissue sample has decreased amounts of both the targeted messenger RNA and the subsequent RRM2 protein. Messenger RNA fragments showed that this reduction really does seem to be taking place through the desired siRNA pathway (there's been a lot of argument over this point in the eye therapy clinical trials).

It should be noted, though, that this was only shown for one of the patients, in which the pre- and post-dosing samples were collected ten days apart. In the other responding patient, the two samples were separated by many months (making comparison difficult), and the patient that showed no evidence of nanoparticle uptake also showed, as you'd figure, no differences in their RRM2. Why Patient A didn't take up the nanoparticles is as yet unknown, and since we only have these three patients' biopsies, we don't know how widespread this problem is. In the end, the really solid evidence is again down to a single human.

But that brings up another big question: is this therapy doing the patients any good? Unfortunately, the trial results themselves are not out yet, so we don't know. That two-out-of-three uptake rate, although a pretty small sample, could well be a concern. The only between-the-lines inference I can get is this: the best data in this paper is from patient C, who was the only one to do two cycles of nanoparticle therapy. Patient A (who did not show uptake) and patient B (who did) had only one cycle of treatment, and there's probably a very good reason why. These people are, of course, very sick indeed, so any improvement will be an advance. But I very much look forward to seeing the numbers.

Comments (8) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Biological News | Cancer | Clinical Trials | Pharmacokinetics

March 18, 2010

Make Your Compound Go Away

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Posted by Derek

I'm not sure that the term will catch on, but this new paper proposes "antedrug" to describe a compound that's deliberately designed to be cleaved quickly to something inactive. I see where they're coming from - reverse of "prodrug" - but in spoken English it's too close to "anti-drug". Hasn't someone come up with this concept before? Perhaps they didn't bother to name it. . .

UpdateSomeone at AZ sends along this earlier reference to "antedrug".

Comments (23) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Pharmacokinetics

March 2, 2010

Why You Don't Want to Make Death-Star-Sized Drugs

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Posted by Derek

I was just talking about greasy compounds the other day, and reasons to avoid them. Right on cue, there's a review article in Expert Opinion in Drug Discovery on lipophilicity. It has some nice data in it, and I wanted to share a bit of it here. It's worth noting that you can make your compounds too polar, as well as too greasy. Check these out - the med-chem readers will find them interesting, and who knows, others might, too:
MW350%20graph%20jpeg.jpg
MW500%20graph%20jpeg.jpg
So, what are these graphs? They show how well compound cross the membranes of Caco-2 cells, a standard assay for permeability. These cells (derived from human colon tissue) have various active-transport pumps going (in both directions), and you can grow them in a monolayer, expose one side to a solution of drug substance, and see how much compound appears on the other side and how quickly. (Of course, good old passive diffusion is also operating, too - a lot of compounds cross membranes by just soaked on through them).

Now, I have problems with extrapolating Caco-2 data too vigorously to the real world - if you have five drug candidates from the same series and want to rank order them, I'd suggest getting real animal data rather than rely on the cell assay. The array of active transport systems (and their intrinsic activity) may well not match up closely enough to help you - as usual, cultured cell lines don't necessarily match reality. But as a broad measure of whether a large set of compounds has a reasonable chance of getting through cell membranes, the assay's not so bad.

First, we have a bunch of compounds with molecular weights between 350 and 400 (a very desirable space to occupy). The Y axis is the partitioning between the two sides of the cells, and X axis is LogD, a standard measure of compound greasiness. That thin blue line is the cutoff for 100 nanomoles/sec of compound transport, so the green compounds above it travel across the membrane well, and the red ones below it don't cross so readily. You'll note that as you go to the left (more and more polar, as measured by logD), the proportion of green compounds gets smaller and smaller. They're rather hang out in the water than dive through any cell membranes, thanks.

So if you want a 50% chance of hitting that 100 nm/sec transport level, then you don't want to go much more polar than a LogD of 2. But that's for compounds in the 350-400 weight range - how about the big heavyweights? Those are shown in the second graph, for compounds greater than 500. Note that the distribution has scrunched disturbingly. Now almost everything is lousy, and if you want that 50% chance of good penetration, you're going to have to get up to a logD of at least 4.5.

That's not too good, because you're always fighting a two-front war here. If you make your compounds that greasy (or more) to try to improve their membrane-crossing behavior, you're opening yourself up (as I said the other day) to more metabolic clearance and more nonspecific tox, as your sticky compounds glop onto all sorts of things in vivo. (They'll be fun to formulate, too). Meanwhile, if you dip down too far into that really-polar left-hand side, crossing your fingers for membrane crossing, you can slide into the land of renal clearance, as the kidneys vacuum out your water-soluble wonder drug and give your customers very expensive urine.

But in general, you have more room to maneuver in the lower molecular weight range. The humungous compounds tend to not get through membranes at reasonable LogD values. And if you try to fix that by moving to higher LogD, they tend to get chewed up or do unexpectedly nasty things in tox. Stay low and stay happy.

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Assays | Pharma 101 | Pharmacokinetics

November 28, 2009

Recommended Books For Medicinal Chemists, Part One

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Posted by Derek

I asked recently for suggestions on the best books on med-chem topics, and a lot of good ideas came in via the comments and e-mail. Going over the list, the most recommended seem to be the following:

For general medicinal chemistry, you have Bob Rydzewski's Real World Drug Discovery: A Chemist's Guide to Biotech and Pharmaceutical Research. Many votes also were cast for Camille Wermuth's The Practice of Medicinal Chemistry. For getting up to speed, several readers recommend Graham Patrick's An Introduction to Medicinal Chemistry. And an older text that has some fans is Richard Silverman's The Organic Chemistry of Drug Design and Drug Action.

Process chemistry is its own world with its own issues. Recommended texts here are Practical Process Research & Development by Neal Anderson and Process Development: Fine Chemicals from Grams to Kilograms by Stan Lee (no, not that Stan Lee) and Graham Robinson.

Case histories of successful past projects are found in Drugs: From Discovery to Approval by Rick Ng and also in Walter Sneader's Drug Discovery: A History.

Another book that focuses on a particular (important) area of drug discovery is Robert Copeland's Evaluation of Enzyme Inhibitors in Drug Discovery.

For chemists who want to brush up on their biology, readers recommend Terrence Kenakin's A Pharmacology Primer, Third Edition: Theory, Application and Methods and Molecular Biology in Medicinal Chemistry by Nogrady and Weaver.

Overall, one of the most highly recommended books across the board comes from the PK end of things: Drug-like Properties: Concepts, Structure Design and Methods: from ADME to Toxicity Optimization by Kerns and Di. For getting up to speed in this area, there's Pharmacokinetics Made Easy by Donald Birkett.

In a related field, the standard desk reference for toxicology seems to be Casarett & Doull's Toxicology: The Basic Science of Poisons. Since all of us make a fair number of poisons (as we eventually discover), it's worth a look.

There's a first set - more recommendations will come in a following post (and feel free to nominate more worthy candidates if you have 'em).

Comments (21) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Book Recommendations | Drug Development | Life in the Drug Labs | Pharmacokinetics | The Scientific Literature | Toxicology

June 15, 2009

Ugliness Defined

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Posted by Derek

Yesterday's post on so-called "ugly" molecules seems to have touched a few nerves. Perhaps I should explain my terms, since ugliness is surely in the eye of the beholder. I'm not talking about particular functional groups as much as I'm talking about the whole package.

First off, a molecule that does what it's supposed to do in vivo is (by my definition) not truly ugly. The whole point of our job as medicinal chemists is to make active compounds - preferably with only the activity that we want - and if that's been accomplished there can be no arguing. Of course, "accomplished" has different meanings at different stages of development. Very roughly, the mileposts (for those of us in discovery research) are:

1. Hitting the target in vitro.
2. Showing selectivity in vitro.
3. Showing blood levels in vivo.
4. Showing activity in vivo.
5. No tox liabilities in vivo.

And these all have their gradations. My point is that if you've made it through these, at least to a reasonable extent, your molecule has already distinguished itself from the herd. The problem is that a lot of structures will fly through the first couple of levels (the in vitro ones), but have properties that will make it much harder for them to get the rest of the way. High molecular weight, notable lack of polarity (high logP), and notable lack of solubility are three of the most important warning signs, and those are what (to me) make an ugly molecule, not some particular functional group.

My belief is that, other things being equal, you should guard against making things that have trouble in these areas. You may well find yourself being forced (by the trends of your project) into one or more of them; that happens all the time, unfortunately. But you shouldn't go there if you don't have to. It's also true that there are molecules that have made it all the way through, that are out there on the market and still have these liabilities. But that shouldn't be taken as a sign that you should go the same route.

Ars longa, vita brevis. There's only so much time and so much money for a given project, and your time is best spent working in the space that has the best chance of delivering a drug. A 650 molecular weight compound with five trifluoromethyl groups is not inhabiting that space. It's not impossible that such a compound will make it, but I think we can all agree that its chances are lower compared to something smaller and less greasy. If the only thing you can get to work is a whopper like that, well, good luck to all concerned. But we have to depend on luck too much already in this business, and there's no reason to bring in more.

Comments (13) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Life in the Drug Labs | Pharmacokinetics

June 9, 2009

Instant Med-Chem Wisdom

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Posted by Derek

I didn't note it here when it came out last year, but I wanted to recommend this paper to all the readers who are medicinal chemists. It's an effort by M. Paul Gleeson of GSK to generalize some rules from huge piles of oral dosing data in the company's files. It's all boiled down to a set of charts, for different classes of compounds (neutral, acidic, basic, and zwitterionic), and you can see the effects of changing molecular weight and/or polarity on things like bioavailibility, potential for hERG problems, clearance, etc.

There are no major surprises in the charts. But it's very useful to have all these "rules of thumb" in one spot, and to have them backed up by plenty of data. For experienced medicinal chemists, it's a distillation of everything that we should have been learning. And for those starting out, it's a way to get a fast understanding of what matters when you're making new structures. Check it out!

Update: for a much more sceptical take, see here.

Comments (4) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Life in the Drug Labs | Pharmacokinetics

June 2, 2009

A Deuterium Deal

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Posted by Derek

Well, there's someone who certainly believes in the deuterated-drug idea! GlaxoSmithKline has announced today that they've signed a deal with Concert Pharmaceuticals to develop these. There's a $35 million payment upfront, which I'm sure will be welcome in this climate, and various milestone and royalty arrangements from there on out. I know that the press story says that it's a "potential billion dollar deal", but you have to make a useless number of assumptions to arrive at that figure. Let's just say that the amount will be somewhere between that billion-dollar figure and. . .well, the $35 million that Glaxo's just put up.

Where things will eventually land inside that rather wide range is impossible to say. No one's taken such a compound all the way through development, and every one of them is going to be different. (Deuterium might be a good idea, but it ain't magic.) It looks like the first compound up for evaluation will be an HIV protease inhibitor, CTP-518, which is a deuterated version of someone's existing compound - Concert has filed paten applications on deuterated versions of both darunavir (WO2009055006) and atazanavir (WO2008156632). The hope is that CTP-518 will have an improved enough metabolic profile to eliminate the need to add ritonavir into the drug cocktail.

The company is also providing deuterated versions of three of GSK's own pipeline compounds for evaluation, which is interesting, since that's the sort of thing that Glaxo could do itself. In fact, that's one of the key points to the whole deuterated-compound idea: the window of opportunity. Deuteration isn't difficult chemistry, and the applications for it in improving PK and tox profiles are pretty obvious (see below). It's a good bet that drug company patent applications will hencrforth include claims (and exemplified compounds) to make sure that deuterated versions of drug candidates can't be poached away by someone else. This strategy has a limited shelf life, but it's long enough to be potentially very profitable indeed.

One more note about that word "obvious". Now that people are raising all kinds of money and interest with the idea, sure, it looks obvious. And I'm sure that it's a thought that many people have had before - and then said "Nah, that's too funny-sounding. Might not work. And besides, you might not be able to patent it. And besides, if it were that good an idea, someone else would have already done it. There must be a good reason why no one's done it, you know". Getting up the nerve to try these things, that's the hard part. Roger Tung and Concert (and the other players in this field) deserve congratulations for not being afraid of the obvious.

Comments (25) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Development | Infectious Diseases | Pharmacokinetics | Who Discovers and Why

February 17, 2009

Heavy Atoms, Heavy Profits?

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Posted by Derek

Carbon 12, nitrogen 14 – for that matter, hydrogen 1. Everyone who’s had to study even a bit of chemistry has had to learn the molecular weights of the elements, figure molecular weights from formulas, and so on. But these numbers aren’t quite as round and even as they look, and the consequences of that are sometimes surprising. And at the moment, at least three companies are trying to turn the whole idea into a huge amount of money.

My scientific audience will have guessed immediately that I’m talking about isotopes (although some of them may well be wondering where the pile of money comes into it). For those who don’t make a living at this sort of thing and have put such topics out of their minds, it’s the number of protons in an atom’s nucleus (the atomic number) that determines what sort of element it is. Carbon, for example, always has six protons. But there are neutrons in there, too, and those can vary a bit. Six protons and six neutrons gives you a nucleus of carbon-12, which is the most common. But one out of every hundred or so carbon atoms has seven neutrons instead of six: C-13. That’s a perfectly stable isotope of carbon, and is much beloved by chemists for its behavior in NMR experiments. If you push that neutron count too far, though, you get unstable radioactive nuclei. That’s where the famous carbon-14 comes into the picture (six protons, eight neutrons). You can have carbon-11, too, although it’s pretty hot stuff. Hydrogen, for its part, has the usual one-proton nucleus in its most common form, a one-proton-one-neutron stable form called deuterium, and a radioactive form with two neutrons called tritium, found in isotope labs and the innards of hydrogen bombs).

Radioactive isotopes have a long history in medicine and biochemistry, both as therapeutic agents (for cancer) and as tracers. But what about stable isotopes? Until recent years, not as much. But modern mass spectrometry machines are so good at what they do that they’ve eaten into a lot of the applications that used to be reserved for radioactive isotopes – more on that in another blog post; there are some ingenious tricks there. And those three companies I mentioned are trying to take advantage of yet another property, known as the kinetic isotope effect.

Imagine a bond between a hydrogen and a carbon as being between two metal balls, one of them twelve times as heavy as the other, connected by a spring. This is about as simplistic a picture of a carbon-hydrogen bond as you could possibly come up with, but for this purpose that model works disconcertingly well. Imagine then replacing the smaller ball with one that weighs twice as much as the original one; that’s a replacement of hydrogen with deuterium. Now, how will the behavior of that springy system change?

Well, that’s sophomore physics, weights and springs, and that’ll tell you that it’s now harder to twang the second system around. We see that exact effect in chemistry. A carbon-deuterium bond breaks about six or seven times slower than a carbon-hydrogen bond under room-temperature conditions. So where exactly is the big money in this effect?

Consider what happens to a drug when it’s ingested. Through the gut wall it goes, into the hepatic portal vein, and directly into that vast shredder we know as the liver. Various enzymes go to work tearing your unrecognized drug structure apart, the better to sluice it out through the kidneys as quickly as possible. And there’s the opportunity: a great many of those enzymatic reactions involve breaking carbon-hydrogen bonds. What if they were deuteriums instead?

That’s what Auspex, Protia, and Concert Pharmaceuticals are all working on. They’re taking existing drugs, whose metabolic fates are known, and battening their structures down with deuterium atoms in hopes of improving their half-lives and general behavior. And thus far, the idea seems to be working out. Auspex announced last fall that they'd seen good results (PDF) in the clinic with a deuterated version of venlafaxine (brand name Effexor, a well-known antidepressant. Concert, for their part, has announced that they've improved the antibiotic linezolid, sold as Zyvox. Protia - well, as far as I can see, Protia has been very quietly filing patents on deuterated versions of every big-selling drug that they can think of. What they're doing in the lab seems to still be under wraps.

Is this going to work? Good question. To a first approximation, you'd think it probably would, particularly for drugs whose main liabilities are poor pharmacokinetics (or side effects driven by a particular metabolite). But there are complications. For one thing, deuterium is not completely innocuous in vivo. I strongly doubt that the dosages of deuterated pharmaceuticals could present any kind of problem, but if you load up a higher organism with exchangable deuterium, trouble ensues. For humans, it would seem that you could, in theory, go a week or so on a few liters a day of straight deuterated water before you'd have to worry, which is nonetheless an experiment that I would strongly discourage. So the amount of deuterium picked up through metabolism of a prescription drug should have no effect - but there's always the possibility that the FDA, in its risk-averse mode, might make you jump through some extra hoops to prove that.

Another (much more real) risk is that the whole strategy will burn itself out. Clearly, the existing startups are working off the fact that no one has traditionally bothered to claim deuterated versions of their patented compounds. That is surely already changing, and if something hits the market it'll change big-time, reminiscent of Sepracor's old business model of grabbing unclaimed metabolites and enantiomers. And, of course, the three companies in this space are surely already throwing elbows into each other's IP space already.

But there's still a window of opportunity, and these folks are going for it. Isotope effects could end up being rather more immediately valuable than anyone ever knew. . .

Comments (31) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics

February 11, 2009

A Med-Chem Book Recommendation

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Posted by Derek

As per the comments to the last post, this book, Drug-like Properties: Concepts, Structure Design and Methods: from ADME to Toxicity Optimization, looks like a very nice overview of these issues for the practicing medicinal chemist. From what I've seen of it, there's a lot of you-need-to-know-this information for people getting up to speed, and it also looks to have collected a lot of more advanced topics into one convenient place. If this is your thing, give it a look.

Comments (6) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Book Recommendations | Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics | Toxicology

December 1, 2008

Prodrugs: How the Pros Do It?

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Posted by Derek

I’m going to write this morning about a question that actually came up among several of us at the train station this morning. I’m on a route that takes a lot of people into Cambridge, so we have a good proportion of pharma/biotech people on board. And today we got to talking about prodrugs: like 'em or hate 'em?

For those not in the business, a prodrug is a masked form of an active drug, designed to be activated once it’s dosed. That’s generally done by allowing the normal metabolic processes of the body to clip some group off, revealing the real drug. Various esters are the most common prodrugs, since that’s about the easiest group to have fall apart on you. (Enalapril / enalaprilat is a classic example, and aspirin is an even more classic one).

And esters illustrate another point about prodrugs: no one develops them unless they have to, as far as I’m concerned. After all, if your compound works fine in its native form, why get fancy? No, I think you turn to the prodrug strategy when there’s something wrong. Maybe the active form of the drug isn’t well absorbed from the gut, or has too short a half-life in the blood, or doesn’t distribute to the right organs. The differences in these properties between carboxylic acids and their esters can be particularly dramatic.

There are other ways to do it. Some compounds are oxidized by liver enzymes to turn into their active forms, for example. But all of these ideas suffer from several complications, which is why I’ve always regarded them as acts of desperation. For one thing, all these metabolic pathways vary a good deal between species. That’s a problem for any drug development effort, of course, but you’ve doubled those headaches (at least) by working with a prodrug. Now you have to wonder, when you finally get to humans, if the conversion of the initial compound will take place to the same extent, as well as about the clearance of the active drug (and, for that matter, the non-productive clearance of the prodrug molecule itself). For a development group, taking on a prodrug can be like taking on two drugs at the same time.

There have been all sorts of ingenious ideas along these lines over the years. It’s been my impression that delivery methods of this sort have been more popular among academic medicinal chemistry groups than they have in industry, to be honest. There are all sorts of schemes for targeting active substances to particular organs, or for getting them into hard-to-reach areas like the brain through use of exotic prodrug groups. Most of these don’t survive exposure to the real world, but I can’t turn up my nose at them, either, because these are all things that we would like to be able to do in this business. If weird ideas don’t get tried, we’ll never find out if any of them actually work.

And there have been some real successes in the prodrug field, and it’s always an idea that comes up whenever a lead compound series shows some undesirable absorption or excretion. I’ve broached the topic a few times myself on past projects. But every time, we’ve been able to solve the problem by less drastic means – a new formulation, a salt form, or by just plain old going to a different compound in the end. If you can do it by some combination of those, I'd say you're probably better off in the end. (For those who are taking the plunge, you can probably learn about as much as can be learned from the literature here). Here's an even more recent review.

Comments (12) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics

October 17, 2008

Down The Chute in Phase III

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Posted by Derek

Here's a good article over at the In Vivo Blog on this year's crop of expensive Phase III failures. They've mostly been biotech drugs (vaccines and the like), but it's a problem everywhere. As In Vivo's Chris Morrison puts it:

Look, drugs fail. That happens because drug development is very difficult. Even Phase III drugs fail, probably more than they used to, thanks to stiffer endpoints and attempts to tackle trickier diseases. Lilly Research Laboratory president Steve Paul lamented at our recent PSA meeting that Phase III is "still pretty lousy," in terms of attrition rates -- around 50%. And not always for the reasons you'd expect. "You shouldn't be losing Phase III molecules for lack of efficacy," he said, but it's happening throughout the industry.

Ah, but efficacy has come up in the world as a reason for failure. Failures due to pharmacokinetics have been going down over the years as we do a better job in the preclinical phase (and as we come up with more formulation options). Tox failures are probably running at their usual horrifying levels; I don't think that those have changed, because we don't understand toxicology much better (or worse) than we ever did.

But as we push into new mechanisms, we're pushing into territory that we don't understand very well. And many of these things don't work the way that we think that they do. And since we don't have good animal models - see yesterday's post - we're only going to find out about these things later on in the clinic. Phase II is where you'd expect a lot of these things to happen, but it's possible to cherry-pick things in that stage to get good enough numbers to continue. So on you go to Phase III, where you spend the serious money to find out that you've been wrong the whole time.

So we get efficacy failures (and we've been getting them for some time - see this piece from 2004). And we're getting them in Phase III because we're now smart and resourceful enough to worm our way through Phase II too often. The cure? To understand more biology. That's not a short-term fix - but it's the only one that's sure to work. . .

Comments (16) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Clinical Trials | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Pharmacokinetics | Toxicology

August 29, 2008

Sticky Containers, Vanishing Drugs

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Posted by Derek

There’s no end to the variables that can kick your data around in drug discovery. If you concentrate completely on all the things that could go wrong, though, you’ll be too terrified to run any useful experiments. You have to push on, but stay alert. It’s like medical practice: most of the time you don’t have to worry about most of the possibilities, but you need to recognize the odd ones when they show up.

One particular effect gets rediscovered from time to time, and I’ve just recently had to take it into account myself: the material that your vials and wells are made out of. That’s generally not a consideration for organic chemists, since we work mostly in glass, and on comparatively large scale. There are some cases where glass (specifically the free OH groups on its surface) can mess up really sensitive compounds, but in drug discovery we try not to work with things that are that temperamental.

But when you move to the chemistry/biology interface, things change. Material effects are pretty well-known among pharmacokinetics people, for example, although not all medicinal chemists are aware of them. The reason is that PK samples (blood, plasma, tissue) tend to have very small amounts of the desired analyte in them, inside a sea of proteins and other gunk. If you’re going down to nanograms (or less) of the substance of interest, it doesn’t take much to mess up your data.

And as it turns out, different sorts of plastics will bind various compounds to widely varying degrees. Taxol (OK, taxotere) is a notorious example, sticking to the sides of various containers like crazy. And you never know when you're going to run into one of those yourself. I know of a drug discovery project whose PK numbers were driving everyone crazy (weirdly variable, and mostly suggesting physically impossible levels of drug clearance) until they figured out that this was the problem. If you took a stock solution of the compound and ran it though a couple of dilutions while standing in the standard plastic vials, nothing was left. Wash the suckers out with methanol, though, and voila.

Here's a paper which suggests that polystyrene can be a real offender, and from past experience I can tell you to look out for polypropylene, especially the cheap stuff. You won't notice anything until you get way down there to the tiny amounts - but if that's where you're working, you'd better keep it in mind.

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics

March 25, 2008

Getting To Lyrica

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Posted by Derek

There’s an interesting article in Angewandte Chemie by Richard Silverman of Northwestern, on the discovery of Lyrica (pregabalin). It’s a rare example of a compound that came right out of academia to become a drug, but the rest of its story is both unusual and (in an odd way) typical.

The drug is a very close analog of the neurotransmitter GABA. Silverman’s lab made a series of compounds in the 1980s to try to inhibit the aminotransferase enzyme (GABA-AT) that breaks GABA down in the brain, as a means of increasing its levels to prevent epileptic seizures. They gradually realized, though, that their compounds were also hitting another enzyme, glutamic acid decarboxylase (GAD), which actually synthesizes GABA. Shutting down the neurotransmitter’s breakdown was a good idea, but shutting down its production at the same time clearly wasn’t going to work out.

So in 1988 a visiting Polish post-doc (Ryszard Andruszkiewicz) made a series of 3-alkyl GABA and glutamate analogs as another crack at a selective compound. None of them were particularly good inhibitors – in fact, most of them were substrates for GABA-AT, although not very good ones. But (most weirdly) they actually turned out to activate GAD, which would also work just fine to raise GABA levels. Northwestern shopped the compounds around because of this profile, and Parke-Davis took them up on it. One enantiomer of the 3-isobutyl GABA analog turned out to be a star performer in the company’s rodent assay for seizure prevention, and attempts to find an even better compound were fruitless. The next few years were spent on toxicity testing and optimizing the synthetic route.

The IND paperwork to go into humans was filed in 1995, and clinical trials continued until 2003. The FDA approved the drug in 2004, and no, that’s not an unusual timeline for drug development, especially for a CNS compound. And there you’d think the story ends – basic science from the university is translated into a big-selling drug, with the unusual feature of an actual compound from the academic labs going all the way. Since I’ve spent a good amount of time here claiming that Big Pharma doesn’t just rip off NIH-funded research, you’d think that this would be a good counterexample.

But, as Silverman makes clear, there’s a lot more to the story. As it turned out, the drug’s efficacy had nothing to do with its GABA-AT substrate behavior. But further investigation showed that it’s not even correlated with its activation of the other enzyme, GAD. None of the reasons behind the compound’s sale to Parke-Davis held up, except the biggest one: it worked well in the company’s animal models.

The biologists at P-D eventually figured out what was going on, up to a point. The compound also binds to a particular site on voltage-gated calcium channels. That turns out to block the release of glutamate, whose actions would be opposed to those of GABA. So they ended up in the same place (potentiation of GABA effects) but through a mechanism that no one suspected until after the compound had been recommended for human trials! There were more lucky surprises: Lyrica has excellent blood levels and penetration into the brain, while none of the other analogs came close. As it happened, and as the Parke-Davis folks figured out, the compound was taken up by active transport into the brain (via the System L transporter), which also helps account for its activity.

And Silverman goes on to show that while the compound was originally designed as a GABA analog, it doesn’t even perform that function. It has no binding to any GABA receptor, and doesn’t affect GABA levels in any way. As far as I can see, a really thorough, careful pharmacological analysis before going into animals would probably have killed the compound before it was even tested, which goes to show how easy it is to overthink a black-box area like CNS.

So on one level, this is indeed an academic compound that went to industry and became a drug. But looked at from another perspective, it was an extremely lucky shot indeed, for several unrelated reasons, and the underlying biology was only worked out once the compound went into industrial development. And from any angle, it’s an object lesson in how little we know, and how many surprises are waiting for us. (Silverman himself, among other things, is still in there pitching, looking for a good inhibitor of GABA aminotransferase. One such drug, a compound going back to 1977 called vigabatrin, has made it to market for epilepsy in a few countries, but has never been approved in the US because of retinal toxicity).

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Academia (vs. Industry) | Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics | The Central Nervous System

January 29, 2008

The Animal Testing Hierarchy

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Posted by Derek

I've had some questions about animal models and testing, so I thought I'd go over the general picture. As far as I can tell, my experience has been pretty representative.

There are plenty of animal models used in my line of work, but some of them you see more than others. Mice and rats are, of course, the front line. I’ve always been glad to have a reliable mouse model, personally, because that means the smallest amount of compound is used to get an in vivo readout. Rats burn up more hard-won material. That's not just because they're uglier, since we don’t dose based on per cent ugly, but rather because they're much larger and heavier. The worst were some elderly rodents I came across years ago that were being groomed for a possible Alzheimer’s assay – you don’t see many old rats in the normal course of things, but I can tell you that they do not age gracefully. They were big, they were mean, and they were, well, as ratty as an animal can get. (They were useless for Alzheimer's, too, which must have been their final revenge).

You can’t get away from the rats, though, because they’re the usual species for toxicity testing. So if your pharmacokinetics are bad in the rat, you’re looking at trouble later on – the whole point of tox screens is to run the compound at much higher than usual blood levels, which in the worst cases you may not be able to reach. Every toxicologist I’ve known has groaned, though, when asked if there isn’t some other species that can be used – just this time! – for tox evaluation. They’d much rather not do that, since they have such a baseline of data for the rat, and I can’t blame them. Toxicology is an inexact enough science already.

It’s been a while since I’ve personally seen the rodents at all, though, not that I miss them. The trend over the years has been for animal facilities to become more and more separated from the other parts of a research site – separate electronic access, etc. That’s partly for security, because of people like this, and partly because the fewer disturbances among the critters, the better the data. One bozo flipping on the wrong set of lights at the wrong time can ruin a huge amount of effort. The people authorized to work in the animal labs have enough on their hands keeping order – I recall a run of assay data that had an asterisk put next to it when it was realized that a male mouse had somehow been introduced into an all-female area. This proved disruptive, as you’d imagine, although he seemed to weather it OK.

Beyond the mouse and rat, things branch out. That’s often where the mechanistic models stop, though – there aren’t as many disease models in the larger animals, although I know that some cardiovascular disease studies are (or have been) run in pigs, the smallest pigs that could be found. And I was once in on an osteoporosis compound that went into macaque monkeys for efficacy. More commonly, the larger animals are used for pharmacokinetics: blood levels, distribution, half-life, etc. The next step for most compounds after the rat is blood levels in dogs – that’s if there’s a next step at all, because the huge majority of compounds don’t get anywhere near a dog.

That’s a big step in terms of the seriousness of the model, because we don’t use dogs lightly. If you’re getting dog PK, you have a compound that you’re seriously considering could be a drug. Similarly, when a compound is finally picked to go on toward human trials, it first goes through a more thorough rat tox screen (several weeks), then goes into two-week dog tox, which is probably the most severe test most drug candidates face. The old (and cold-hearted) saying is that “drugs kill dogs and dogs kill drugs”. I’ve only rarely seen the former happen (twice, I think, in 19 years), but I’ve seen the second half of that saying come true over and over. Dogs are quite sensitive – their cardiovascular systems, especially – and if you have trouble there, you’re very likely done. There’s always monkey data – but monkey blood levels are precious, and a monkey tox screen is extremely rare these days. I’ve never seen one, at any rate. And if you have trouble in the dog, how do you justify going into monkeys at all? No, if you get through dog tox, you're probably going into man, and if you don't, you almost certainly aren't.

Comments (8) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Animal Testing | Drug Assays | Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics | Toxicology

January 18, 2008

Eat It, Breath It, Soak in It?

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Posted by Derek

After Pfizer’s Exubera inhaled-insulin product died so horribly in the market last year, the other companies working in the same space had to be worried. Lilly and Alkermes have had a long-running program, as has a smaller company called Mannkind. But recently, another contender, Novo Nordisk, has announced that they and partner Aradigm have decided to cut their losses. The In Vivo Blog has an excellent roundup.

According to Novo’s CEO, they (like Pfizer) were focusing on prandial insulin because that was basically the only thing they could get to work through inhalation. Now that they’ve seen how well that went over, they’ve decided to spend the money on different proteins (basal insulin, glucagon-like-peptide 1 analogs, etc.) They have a GLP-1 analog in Phase III, but apparently are heading toward the clinic with a second-generation one that can work by the inhaled route.

I wish them luck. We really need new routes of administration for drugs, and every seemingly good candidate has some real problems. There’s a limit to how much compound you can administer transdermally through a patch, for example, and a limit to how quickly it can be administered. Long, slow, continuous delivery is fine, but no one’s going to be marketing an epinephrine patch for anaphylactic shock any time soon. Similarly, you can probably forget about antibiotic-sized total doses, too, because nobody’s skin has enough surface area. (I know, I know, on some people you might think it would work – but if you weigh a lot, you probably need more antibiotic to start with on a mg/kilo basis, and meanwhile your surface area goes up as a square while your volume goes up as a cube, and it’s a losing battle).

No, unless we find some way to make the skin crazily permeable, it’s never going to be a great delivery system. And crazily permeable is just what the skin is not, for good reason. That’s why pulmonary delivery makes sense, to a first approximation. The lungs have huge surface area, just like the small intestine does for oral dosing, because both those organs live to absorb things from the environment (as opposed to the skin). The lungs absorb a gas, unfortunately, as opposed to the small molecules absorbed by the intestines, but a gas is just a special subset of small molecule.

But there’s the downside of the idea. While an oral drug is piggybacking on machinery that’s doing what it’s supposed to be doing, lung delivery is making the organ do something it’s not. (Thus the idea of dosing peptides by this route, since the lungs aren’t a soup of proteolytic enzymes, and pulmonary circulation does not feed your compounds right into the sawmill of the liver). While the intestine absorbs all kinds of stuff, the lungs are there to absorb only one gas and excrete only one. And that primary function of oxygen / carbon dioxide transfer is rather vital, so if you’re going to horn in on it, you’d better be sure that you’re not going to degrade things.

That’s always been the worry with inhalation dosing. We can get around the acute problem of choking the patients, but the chronic problem of potential lung damage is always a worry. Lung function varies quite a bit, too, even under normal conditions, That variation is both patient-to-patient and from time to time – how do you take your inhaled medicine when you have a chest cold, or if you pull a muscle? (And that’s another reason why it’s sort of a grim cosmic joke that insulin turns out to be the big test for peptide drug delivery through the lungs, since its safe dosing window can be so narrow).

I’ll go into the ups and downs of other potential administration routes in another post. Most of them involve sharp objects, though, so they take on a certain similarity, and have the same only-if-I-have-to reputation.

Comments (3) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Diabetes and Obesity | Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics

August 28, 2007

Like Clockwork

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Posted by Derek

There are a lot of drug development issues that people outside the field (and beginning medicinal chemists) don't think about. A significant one that sounds trivial is how often your wonder drug is going to be taken.

Once a day is the standard, and it's generally what we shoot for unless there's some reason to associate the drug with meals, sleep/wake cycles, or the like. People can remember to take something once a day - well, they remember it better than most of the other dosing schedules, anyway. That's why you actually want your compounds to be metabolized and cleared - everything has to be ready for the next dose tomorrow.

If your compound has a long half-life in the body after dosing, you'll step on the tail end of the last dose and you can see gradual accumulation of the drug in plasma or other tissues. And that's almost always a bad thing, because eventually every drug in the world is going to do something that you don't want. All you have to do is get the concentration up too high for too long (and figuring out what's too high and what's too long is the one-sentence job description of a toxicologist). If you stairstep your way up with accumulating doses, you'll get there in the end.

Ah, you might say, then just take the drug every other day. Simple! Sorry. Every other day (or every three, or four) is a complete nightmare for patient compliance. People lose track, and doctors know it. You'd better have a really compelling reason to go ahead with a weird regiment like that, and if you do, someone's going to seize the chance to come into your market with a once-a-day as soon as they can find one. (The exceptions to this are drugs given in a clinic, like many courses of chemotherapy - but in those cases, someone else is keeping track).

How about more often than once a day (q.d., in the Latin lingo). Well, twice a day (b.i.d. can work if it's morning/night. Three times a day can go with meals, presumably, but people are going to get tired of seeing your pills. More than three times a day? There'd better be a reason, and it had better be good.

So don't be scared as you watch your compounds disappear after giving them to the animals. You want that. Just not too quickly, and not too slowly, either.

Comments (19) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Pharma 101 | Pharmacokinetics

April 10, 2007

Sulfur, Your Pal. Mostly.

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Posted by Derek

I had a question the other day in my e-mail about various sulfur-containing functional groups in drugs. My answers, condensed, were as follows:

Sulfides: will always be under suspicion for oxidation in vivo. If that's your main mode of metabolism and clearance, though, then the problem can be manageable. Still, many people avoid them to not have to deal with the whole issue, and I can't blame them. I do the same. Since the reagents needed to prepare them tend to reek, it's a handy bias to have.

Sulfoxides: I spent quite a while on an old project turning out a whole line of these. I'm not sure if I'd do that again, though. Sulfoxides are interestingly polar, but they're also frustratingly chiral. If you need a specific right-hand or left-hand sulfoxide (and I did!), there are numerous not-always-appealing ways to get them. The other worry about them is that they can get either oxidized (up to the sulfone) or reduced back down to the sulfide. A good example of this problem is in the -prazole proton pump inhibitor drugs, which are probably the most prominent sulfoxides on the market. Some of them (like omeprazole) get oxidized, and others (like rabeprazole) get reduced. I've even heard of a chiral sulfoxide going in vivo and coming back out in the urine as the other enantiomer, via reduction and chiral oxidation. Many people prefer to avoid the whole issue - and after my experiences, I can't say I blame them here, either.

Sulfone: finally, a metabolically stable one. Sulfones have a reputation as rock-solid functional groups, at least when there aren't active hydrogens next to them. Of course, sometimes the compounds are also stable rocks that don't like to dissolve, but we have that problem with everything. I haven't come across anyone with an unkind word for sulfones.

Sulfonamides: If you're an experienced medicinal chemist, boy, have you cranked out some sulfonamides in your time. They're just so easy to make, and you can get so much structural variation out of them. But secondary ones (with a free NH) can get you into trouble in vivo, since they're so acidic. Acidic compounds can behave weirdly when they try to cross out of the gut or into cells, and have a reputation for hanging around in the blood forever. My bias has always been to go with sulfonamides that have fully substituted nitrogens, and I say let 'em rip.

So, those are my biases. Readers are invited to unload their buried feelings about sulfur functionality in the comments.

Comments (12) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Life in the Drug Labs | Pharmacokinetics

December 6, 2006

Bigger And Greasier

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Posted by Derek

Several people have remarked on how large and greasy a molecule torcetrapib is, and speculated about whether that could have been one of its problems. Now, I have as much dislike of large and greasy molecules as any good medicinal chemist, but somehow I don't think that was the problem here.

For the non-medicinal-chemists, the reason we're suspicious of those things is that the body is suspicious of them, too. There aren't all that many non-peptidic, non-carbohydrate, non-lipid, non-nucleic acid molecules in the body to start with - those categories take care of an awful lot of what's available, and they're all handled by their own special systems. A drug molecule is an interloper right from the start, and living organisms have several mechanisms designed to seek out and destroy anything that isn't on the guest list.

An early line of defense is the gut wall. Molecules that are too large or too hydrophobic won't even get taken up well. The digestive system spends most of its time breaking everything down into small polar building blocks and handing them over to the portal circulation, there to be scrutinized by the liver before heading out into the general circulation. So anything that isn't a small polar building block had better be ready to explain itself. There are dedicated systems that handle absorption of fatty acids and cholesterol, and odds are that they're not going to recognize your greaseball molecule. It's going to have to diffuse in on its own, which puts difficult to define, but nonetheless real limits on its size and polarity.

Then there's that darn liver. It's full of metabolizing enzymes, many of which are basically high-capacity shredding machines with binding sites that are especially excellent for nonpolar molecules. That first-pass metabolism right out of the gut is a real killer, and many good drug candidates don't survive it. For many (most?) others, destruction by liver enzymes is still the main route of clearance.

Finally, hydrophobic drug molecules can end up in places you don't want. The dominant solvent of the body is water, of course, albeit water with a lot of gunk in it. But even at their thickest, biological fluids are a lot more aqueous than not, especially when compared to the kinds of solvents we tend to make our molecules in. A hydrophobic molecule will stick to all sorts of things (like the greasier exposed parts of proteins) rather than wander around in solution, and this can lead to unpredictable behavior (and difficulty getting to the real target).

That last paragraph is the one that could be relevant to torcetrapib's failure. The others had already been looked at, or the drug wouldn't have made it as far as it did. But the problem is that for a target like CETP, a greasy molecule may be the only thing that'll work. After all, if you're trying to mess up a system for moving cholesteryl esters around, your molecule may have to adopt a when-in-Rome level of polarity. The body may be largely polar, but some of the local environments aren't. The challenge is getting to them.

Comments (19) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cardiovascular Disease | Drug Development | Pharmacokinetics | Toxicology

August 16, 2004

Clay Lies Still, But Blood's A Rover

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Posted by Derek

When a drug makes it into the bloodstream (which is no sure thing, on my side of the business), it doesn't just float around by itself. Blood itself is full of all kinds of stuff, and there are many things in it that can interact with drug molecules.

For one thing, compounds can actually wander in and out of red blood cells. This usually isn't a big deal, but once in a while a compound will find a binding site in there, which had flippin' well better not be on the hemoglobin protein. Depending on the on- and off-rates, this can either add a welcome time-release feature to the dosing or it can be a real pain. I haven't heard as much about interactions with white cells, but since they're a much smaller fraction of the total blood it's not something we'd be likely to notice.

More commonly, drugs stick to some sort of plasma protein. The most common one is serum albumin, and another big player is alpha-1 acid glycoprotein, or AGP. Albumin's found in large amounts and has several distinct binding sites. Acidic drugs are well known to hold on to it. As far as I'm aware, no one's absolutely sure what it's there for, but it must be pretty important. The multiple binding sites make it seem like could be some sort of concentration buffer for several different substances, but which ones? (I've never heard of an albumin knockout mouse - I assume that it would be lethal.)

The same comments about good and bad effects apply. A lot of effort has gone into schemes to predict plasma protein behavior, with success that I can charitably describe as "limited."The real test is to expose your compounds to fresh blood and see if you can get them back out. Some degree of protein binding is welcome, and you can go on up to 99% without seeing any odd effects. But at 99-and-some-nines you can start to assume that something is wrong, and that the interaction is too tight for everyone's good.

But when you're doing your blood assay, you had better make sure to try it with all the species that you're going to be dosing in. There's a kinase inhibitor from a few years back called UCN-01 that provides a cautionary tale. It was dosed up to high levels in rats and dogs, wasn't bad, and passed its toxicology tests, and went into human trials. They started out at one-tenth the maximum tolerated rat dose in the Phase I volunteers, which should be a good margin. But when they got the blood samples worked up, everyone just about fell out of their chairs.

There was at least ten times the amount of drug circulating around than they'd expected, because it was all stuck to AGP and it just wasn't coming off. A single dose of the drug had a half-life in humans of about 45 days, which must be some sort of record. Well, you might think, what's the problem. A once-a-month drug, right? But it doesn't work like that: the compound was so tightly bound that it would never reach the tumor cells that it was supposed to treat. All it was doing was just riding around in the blood. And the clinical program really dodged one from the safety perspective, too, because as they escalated the dose they would have eventually saturated all the binding that the AGP had to offer. Then the next higher dose would have dumped a huge overage of free drug into the blood, and all at once. Not what you're looking for.

The compound is still being investigated, but it's having a rough time of it. It's been in numerous Phase I trials, with all sorts of dosing schedules. A look through the literature shows that the compound is mainly being used as a tool in cell assays, where there's no human AGP to complicate things. With so many kinase inhibitors out there being developed, it's going to be hard to find a place for one with such weird behavior.

Comments (5) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Pharmacokinetics

May 25, 2004

Down the Hatch

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Posted by Derek

We have a lot of received wisdom in the drug business, rules of thumb and things that everybody knows. One of the things that we all know is that the gut wall isn't much fun for our drugs to get across sometimes. That's inconvenient, since most people would prefer to swallow their medicine rather than take part in the more strenuous dosage forms.

Go around asking random medicinal chemists about oral absorption of drugs, and you'll get more things that everyone knows. There will be lots of talk about solubility and allied topics like particle size, salt forms, formulations and so on. Some of this is valid (I'd vote for particle size), but some of it is hooey. For example, I'm not convinced that solubility has much to do with oral dosing (once you get past the powdered-glass stage, naturally.) I've had wonderfully soluble drug candidates that went nowhere, and I've had brick dust that showed reasonable blood levels. I'm just barely willing to admit that there's a trend (in a really wide data set), but I'm not willing to admit that it's a very useful trend. But solubility can be measured (over and over!), so there's a constituency for it.

You'll also get a lot of stuff about P-glycoprotein, and the necessity of doing some sort of cellular assay to see if your compound is affected by it. That's a protein I've spoken about from time to time, which sits in the cell membrane and pumps a variety of compounds from one side to the other. Now, Pgp is a real thing, both in the gut and in the brain. But there are a lot more transporter proteins out there than most of us realize, hundreds and hundreds of the damn things, and we don't have much of a handle on them. I think that they're a big opportunity for drug development in the coming years, assuming we start to get a clue.

People get excited about Pgp because it was one of the first ones characterized, and because it does seem to explain the failure of a few drugs. There's a cellular assay, using the famous Caco-2 colon cells that express the protein, which is supposed to give you some idea of Pgp's effect on the membrane permeability of cour compounds. Unfortunately, I'm not convinced that it gives you much more than a reading of how they behave in the Caco-2 assay, which probably isn't worth knowing for its own sake, to put it kindly. But folks are so desperate to know why their drugs don't get absorbed well (and how they can avoid wasting any more of their working lives on such) that they'll seize on any technique that offers hope.

You'll also hear about metabolism of drug by enzymes in the gut wall, but as far as I can see, that's an overrated fear. (There was a review article on this a few years back from a group at Merck, and that's what they concluded.) People like this explanation because it makes some sense. We all know about liver enzymes ripping our compounds to bits, and here they are in the gut wall! No wonder our compounds stink! And this is also something you can screen for, so you're not left sitting there alone with the black box. Far better to be able to tell everyone that you think you have a handle on the problem and that you're running assays to get around it, even if it isn't true.

Nope, our understanding of drug absorption still reeks of voodoo vapors, despite many attempts at exorcism. It's annoying and it's disturbing, but it's the state of the art. Anyone that can do better will make a fortune.

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April 18, 2004

The March of Folly Leader Board

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Posted by Derek

The first comment to the original March of Folly post below mirrors the e-mail I've received: the people's choice for the technology most-likely-to-be-embarrassing is. . .(rustling of envelope): RNA interference.

There's a good case to be made for that, and it doesn't contradict my oft-stated opinion that RNAi is going to be good for one or more Nobel prizes. The big challenge will be how to divide things up correctly - we may well see some spillover into Chemistry from the Medicine/Physiology category. Believe me, there are several folks who should keep their eyes open for discount fares to Stockholm. This will probably happen in about five years or so, given the usual pace of the Nobel folks.

But industrial enthusiasm for RNAi may well have gotten out of hand in the last year or two. There are a number of small companies frantically trying to take the technique into the clinic; the whole thing reminds everyone of the heyday of antisense therapeutics. Remember antisense DNA? People are still out there trying to make it work, but it's been a lot harder than anyone would have wanted to believe. If you'd been able to show folks the future back in the late 1980s, a bunch of venture capitalists would have had rug-biting fits.

And RNA-based therapies suffer from almost exactly the same problems, and for the same reasons. Delivery of the molecule and its stability once dosed are going to be very tricky. One of the first things being targeted is macular degeneration, because the inside of the eye is a rather tranquil pond, pharmacokinetically speaking, and the cells there are known to take things up rather freely. But once you get out of that best-case situation, well, good luck. With any luck, RNAi might be able to adapt a successful antisense technique - if someone finds one.

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February 18, 2004

How Drugs Die

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Posted by Derek

Everyone in the industry would like to do something about the failure rate of drugs in clinical trials. It would be far better to have not spent the time and money on these candidates, and the regret just increases as you move further down the process. A Phase I failure is painful; a Phase III failure can affect the future of the whole company.


So why do these drugs fall out? Hugo Kubinyi, in last August's Nature Revews Drug Discovery suggests that it's not for the reasons that we think. As he notes, there are two widely cited studies that have suggested that a good 40% of clinical failures are due to poor pharmacokinetics. That area is also known in the trade as ADME, for Absorption, Distribution, Metabolism, and Excretion, for the four things that happen to a drug once it's dosed. And we have an awful time predicting all four of them.


Of the four, we have the best handle on metabolism. In the preclinical phase, we expose compounds to preparations from human liver cells, and that gives a useful guide to what's going to happen to them in man. We also expose advanced compounds to human liver tissue itself, which isn't exactly a standard item of commerce, but serves as a more exacting test. Most of the time, these (along with animal studies) keep us from too many surprises about how a compound is going to be broken down. But the other three categories are very close to being black boxes. Dosing in dogs is considered the best model for oral dosing in humans for these, but there are still surprises all the time.


That 40% figure has inspired a lot of hand-wringing, and a lot of expenditure. But Kubinyi says that it's probably wrong. Going back over the data sets, he says that the sample set is skewed by the inclusion of an inappapropriately large group of anti-infective compounds with poor properties. If you adjust to a real-world proportion, you get an ADME failure rate of only 7%.


Now, when this paper came out, I think that there was consternation all over the drug industry. (There sure was among some of my co-workers.) The ADME problem has been common knowledge for years now, it was disturbing to think that it wasn't even there. So disturbing, it seems, that many people have just decided to ignore Kubinyi's contention and carry on as if nothing had happened. There have been big investments in ways to model and predict these properties, and I think that many of these programs have a momentum of their own, which might not be slowed down by mere facts.


The natural question is what Kubinyi thinks might be our real problem. In his adjusted data set, 46% of all failures result from lack of efficacy in Phase II. He admits that some of these (in either approach to the data) might still reflect bad pharmacokinetics, but still maintains that poor PK has made a much smaller contribution than everyone believes. Here's his drug development failure breakdown, which makes his point:


46% drop out from lack of efficacy
17% from animal toxicity (beyond the usual preclinical tox)
16% from adverse events in humans
7% from bad ADME properties
7% from commercial decisions
7% from other miscellaneous reasons

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