
Scientists discover disturbing 'unexpected' side effect of new mRNA jab
Patients given experimental mRNA jabs for HIV have developed an 'unexpected' side-effect needing further investigation, experts say.
About 7 per cent of volunteers given the jabs in the trial broke out in an itchy bumpy rash called hives.
While this rash disappeared for some sufferers, over half were still experiencing bouts a year after injection.
Some were still breaking out in hives almost three years after receiving the jab.
Experts analysing the data noted volunteers who suffered the hive reaction were more likely to have received the Moderna mRNA Covid vaccine in the past.
However, they added this finding didn't necessarily mean the two are linked and how and why the new jabs were provoking this reaction remained unclear.
The reaction was seen across a trio of potential HIV jabs manufactured by Moderna with the same mRNA technology famously used in Covid vaccines.
These jabs were tested on a group of 108 HIV-negative volunteers to measure their overall safety.
Volunteers were split into three groups, each receiving one of the three different vaccine formulas.
These groups were then split further into a high-dose or low-dose cohort for a total of six different cohorts.
After the initial injection repeat doses were administered at 12 weeks and then again at 24 weeks.
In their report experts from the University of Pittsburgh found the jabs to be 'generally safe and tolerable'.
However, they noted the hive reaction in seven participants — seen across all three vaccine formulas— was an 'unexpected' result.
Writing in the Annals of Internal Medicine, they said what was causing the hives in some people was unclear.
But they theorised it could be due to a combination of vaccine components, the dosage, and an unknown environmental factor.
The scientists said while mRNA vaccine technology continued to hold great promise, further research was needed into what was causing this hive reaction.
Independent experts, writing in a linked editorial, agreed.
They said that while hives is, overall, a minor ailment it can still contribute to vaccine hesitancy and hinder vaccine uptake.
The experts said more work was needed to understand the mechanisms behind the reaction 'to ultimately promote the safety and uptake of vaccines'.
There is currently no cure for HIV, which affects approximately 100,000 Britons and 1.2million Americans. Although there are prevention drugs, they need to be taken daily.
WHAT IS HIV?
HIV (human immunodeficiency virus) is a virus that damages the cells in your immune system and weakens your ability to fight everyday infections and disease.
AIDS (acquired immune deficiency syndrome) is the name used to describe a number of potentially life-threatening infections and illnesses that happen when your immune system has been severely damaged by the HIV virus.
While AIDS cannot be transmitted from 1 person to another, the HIV virus can.
There's currently no cure for HIV, but there are very effective drug treatments that enable most people with the virus to live a long and healthy life.
With an early diagnosis and effective treatments, most people with HIV will not develop any AIDS-related illnesses and will live a near-normal lifespan.
Source: NHS
A vaccine that offers lifetime protection from the virus would be a breakthrough for the disease that has claimed millions of lives.
But despite 40 years of research since HIV was first identified, a vaccine has been elusive, with half-a-dozen real-world trials repeatedly failing to deliver on initial results.
HIV is a virus that damages the cells in your immune system and weakens your ability to fight everyday infections and disease.
AIDS is the name used to describe the potentially life-threatening infections and illnesses that happen when your immune system has been severely damaged by HIV.
While AIDS cannot be transmitted from one person to another, the HIV virus can.
There's currently no cure for HIV, but there are extremely effective treatments.
With an early diagnosis most people with HIV will not develop any AIDS-related illnesses and will live a near-normal lifespan.
Currently health officials focus on measures like encouraging safe sex and providing patients medications that stop HIV from spreading.
HIV is estimated to have claimed over 40million lives since it first emerged.
While new HIV diagnoses in the UK had been trending down for years, there has been a recent surge of new cases.
In 2023, there were just over 6,400 HIV diagnoses in the UK, a 46 per cent increase compared to the year before.
Health officials have said the wave of new cases could be a sign of ongoing transmission or a reflection of migration bringing more people with HIV into the country.
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Rhyl Journal
an hour ago
- Rhyl Journal
Groundbreaking gay author Edmund White dies at 85
White's death was confirmed on Wednesday by his agent, Bill Clegg, who did not immediately provide additional details. Along with Larry Kramer, Armistead Maupin and others, White was among a generation of gay writers who in the 1970s became bards for a community no longer afraid to declare its existence. He was present at the Stonewall raids of 1969, when arrests at a club in Greenwich Village led to the birth of the modern gay movement, and for decades was a participant and observer through the tragedy of Aids, the advance of gay rights and culture and the backlash of recent years. A resident of New York and Paris for much of his adult life, he was a novelist, journalist, biographer, playwright, activist, teacher and memoirist. A Boy's Own Story was a bestseller and classic coming-of-age novel that demonstrated gay literature's commercial appeal. He wrote a prizewinning biography of playwright Jean Genet and books on Marcel Proust and Arthur Rimbaud. He was a professor of creative writing at Princeton University, where colleagues included Toni Morrison and his close friend, Joyce Carol Oates. He was an encyclopaedic reader who absorbed literature worldwide while returning yearly to such favourites as Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and Henry Green's Nothing. 'Among gay writers of his generation, Edmund White has emerged as the most versatile man of letters,' cultural critic Morris Dickstein wrote in The New York Times in 1995. 'A cosmopolitan writer with a deep sense of tradition, he has bridged the gap between gay subcultures and a broader literary audience.' In early 1982, just as the public was learning about Aids, White was among the founders of Gay Men's Health Crisis, which advocated Aids prevention and education. The author himself would learn that he was HIV-positive in 1985, and would remember friends afraid to be kissed by him, even on the cheek, and parents who did not want him to touch their babies. White survived, but watched countless peers and loved ones die. Out of the seven gay men, including White, who formed the influential writing group the Violet Quill, four died of complications from Aids. As White wrote in his elegiac novel The Farewell Symphony, the story followed a shocking arc: 'Oppressed in the fifties, freed in the sixties, exalted in the seventies and wiped out in the eighties.' But in the 1990s he lived to see gay people granted the right to marry and serve in the military, to see gay-themed books taught in schools and to see gay writers so widely published that they no longer needed to write about gay lives. 'We're in this post-gay period where you can announce to everybody that you yourself are gay, and you can write books in which there are gay characters, but you don't need to write exclusively about that,' he said in a Salon interview in 2009. 'Your characters don't need to inhabit a ghetto any more than you do. A straight writer can write a gay novel and not worry about it, and a gay novelist can write about straight people.' In 2019, White received a National Book Award medal for lifetime achievement, an honour previously given to Morrison and Philip Roth among others. 'To go from the most maligned to a highly lauded writer in a half-century is astonishing,' White said during his acceptance speech. White was born in Cincinnati in 1940, but age at seven moved with his mother to the Chicago area after his parents divorced. His father was a civil engineer, his mother a psychologist 'given to rages or fits of weeping'. Trapped in 'the closed, snivelling, resentful world of childhood,' at times suicidal, White was at the same time a 'fierce little autodidact' who sought escape through the stories of others, whether Thomas Mann's Death In Venice or a biography of the dancer Vaslav Nijinsky. 'As a young teenager I looked desperately for things to read that might excite me or assure me I wasn't the only one, that might confirm my identity I was unhappily piecing together,' he wrote in the essay Out Of The Closet, On To The Bookshelf, published in 1991. Even as he secretly wrote a 'coming out' novel while a teenager, he insisted on seeing a therapist and begged to be sent to boarding school. After graduating from the University of Michigan, where he majored in Chinese, he moved to New York in the early 1960s and worked for years as a writer for Time-Life Books and an editor for The Saturday Review. He would interview Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote among others, and, for some assignments, was joined by photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Socially, he met William S Burroughs, Jasper Johns, Christopher Isherwood and John Ashbery. He remembered drinking espresso with an ambitious singer named Naomi Cohen, whom the world would soon know as 'Mama Cass' of the Mamas and Papas. He feuded with Kramer, Gore Vidal and Susan Sontag, an early supporter who withdrew a blurb for 'A Boy's Own Story' after he caricatured her in the novel Caracole. 'In all my years of therapy I never got to the bottom of my impulse toward treachery, especially toward people who'd helped me and befriended me,' he later wrote. Through much of the 1960s, he was writing novels that were rejected or never finished. Late at night, he would 'dress as a hippie, and head out for the bars'. A favourite stop was the Stonewall and he was in the neighbourhood on the night of June 28 1969, when police raided the Stonewall and 'all hell broke loose.' 'Up until that moment we had all thought homosexuality was a medical term,' wrote White, who soon joined the protests. 'Suddenly we saw that we could be a minority group — with rights, a culture, an agenda.' His works included Skinned Alive: Stories and the novel A Previous Life, in which he turns himself into a fictional character and imagines himself long forgotten after his death. In 2009, he published City Boy, a memoir of New York in the 1960s and 1970s in which he told of his friendships and rivalries and gave the real names of fictional characters from his earlier novels. 'From an early age I had the idea that writing was truth-telling,' he told The Guardian. 'It's on the record. Everybody can see it. Maybe it goes back to the sacred origins of literature – the holy book. 'There's nothing holy about it for me, but it should be serious and it should be totally transparent.'

South Wales Argus
an hour ago
- South Wales Argus
Groundbreaking gay author Edmund White dies at 85
White's death was confirmed on Wednesday by his agent, Bill Clegg, who did not immediately provide additional details. Along with Larry Kramer, Armistead Maupin and others, White was among a generation of gay writers who in the 1970s became bards for a community no longer afraid to declare its existence. He was present at the Stonewall raids of 1969, when arrests at a club in Greenwich Village led to the birth of the modern gay movement, and for decades was a participant and observer through the tragedy of Aids, the advance of gay rights and culture and the backlash of recent years. A resident of New York and Paris for much of his adult life, he was a novelist, journalist, biographer, playwright, activist, teacher and memoirist. Author Edmund White at his home in New York in 2019 (Mary Altaffer/AP) A Boy's Own Story was a bestseller and classic coming-of-age novel that demonstrated gay literature's commercial appeal. He wrote a prizewinning biography of playwright Jean Genet and books on Marcel Proust and Arthur Rimbaud. He was a professor of creative writing at Princeton University, where colleagues included Toni Morrison and his close friend, Joyce Carol Oates. He was an encyclopaedic reader who absorbed literature worldwide while returning yearly to such favourites as Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and Henry Green's Nothing. 'Among gay writers of his generation, Edmund White has emerged as the most versatile man of letters,' cultural critic Morris Dickstein wrote in The New York Times in 1995. 'A cosmopolitan writer with a deep sense of tradition, he has bridged the gap between gay subcultures and a broader literary audience.' In early 1982, just as the public was learning about Aids, White was among the founders of Gay Men's Health Crisis, which advocated Aids prevention and education. The author himself would learn that he was HIV-positive in 1985, and would remember friends afraid to be kissed by him, even on the cheek, and parents who did not want him to touch their babies. White survived, but watched countless peers and loved ones die. Out of the seven gay men, including White, who formed the influential writing group the Violet Quill, four died of complications from Aids. As White wrote in his elegiac novel The Farewell Symphony, the story followed a shocking arc: 'Oppressed in the fifties, freed in the sixties, exalted in the seventies and wiped out in the eighties.' But in the 1990s he lived to see gay people granted the right to marry and serve in the military, to see gay-themed books taught in schools and to see gay writers so widely published that they no longer needed to write about gay lives. 'We're in this post-gay period where you can announce to everybody that you yourself are gay, and you can write books in which there are gay characters, but you don't need to write exclusively about that,' he said in a Salon interview in 2009. 'Your characters don't need to inhabit a ghetto any more than you do. A straight writer can write a gay novel and not worry about it, and a gay novelist can write about straight people.' In 2019, White received a National Book Award medal for lifetime achievement, an honour previously given to Morrison and Philip Roth among others. 'To go from the most maligned to a highly lauded writer in a half-century is astonishing,' White said during his acceptance speech. White was born in Cincinnati in 1940, but age at seven moved with his mother to the Chicago area after his parents divorced. His father was a civil engineer, his mother a psychologist 'given to rages or fits of weeping'. Trapped in 'the closed, snivelling, resentful world of childhood,' at times suicidal, White was at the same time a 'fierce little autodidact' who sought escape through the stories of others, whether Thomas Mann's Death In Venice or a biography of the dancer Vaslav Nijinsky. 'As a young teenager I looked desperately for things to read that might excite me or assure me I wasn't the only one, that might confirm my identity I was unhappily piecing together,' he wrote in the essay Out Of The Closet, On To The Bookshelf, published in 1991. Even as he secretly wrote a 'coming out' novel while a teenager, he insisted on seeing a therapist and begged to be sent to boarding school. Edmund White was one of the leading gay American authors (Mary Altaffer/AP) After graduating from the University of Michigan, where he majored in Chinese, he moved to New York in the early 1960s and worked for years as a writer for Time-Life Books and an editor for The Saturday Review. He would interview Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote among others, and, for some assignments, was joined by photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Socially, he met William S Burroughs, Jasper Johns, Christopher Isherwood and John Ashbery. He remembered drinking espresso with an ambitious singer named Naomi Cohen, whom the world would soon know as 'Mama Cass' of the Mamas and Papas. He feuded with Kramer, Gore Vidal and Susan Sontag, an early supporter who withdrew a blurb for 'A Boy's Own Story' after he caricatured her in the novel Caracole. 'In all my years of therapy I never got to the bottom of my impulse toward treachery, especially toward people who'd helped me and befriended me,' he later wrote. Through much of the 1960s, he was writing novels that were rejected or never finished. Late at night, he would 'dress as a hippie, and head out for the bars'. A favourite stop was the Stonewall and he was in the neighbourhood on the night of June 28 1969, when police raided the Stonewall and 'all hell broke loose.' 'Up until that moment we had all thought homosexuality was a medical term,' wrote White, who soon joined the protests. 'Suddenly we saw that we could be a minority group — with rights, a culture, an agenda.' His works included Skinned Alive: Stories and the novel A Previous Life, in which he turns himself into a fictional character and imagines himself long forgotten after his death. In 2009, he published City Boy, a memoir of New York in the 1960s and 1970s in which he told of his friendships and rivalries and gave the real names of fictional characters from his earlier novels. 'From an early age I had the idea that writing was truth-telling,' he told The Guardian. 'It's on the record. Everybody can see it. Maybe it goes back to the sacred origins of literature – the holy book. 'There's nothing holy about it for me, but it should be serious and it should be totally transparent.'


Metro
2 hours ago
- Metro
Like Jessie J, I was told I had early breast cancer
It is almost five years to the day since I heard those utterly unforgettable words on April 16, 2020: You have breast cancer. Sadly, I am far from alone. This morning, 37-year-old singer-songwriter and mother-of-one, Jessie J, revealed her own breast cancer diagnosis via Instagram. I recall my own experience so vividly. I remember screaming at the doctor that I was far too young, fit and healthy for this to be happening. Except it was happening. And to me. I was 41. At the time, my daughter was five, my son was 11 months, and we had just gone into the first Covid lockdown. Half a decade on, hard as I try hard to crack on with life, reading Jessie J's news brings it all flooding back. To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video While I was told that I had triple negative breast cancer – sometimes described as a faster-growing type – I was also told, like Jessie, that it had been discovered 'early.' Once you've found out you've got breast cancer, it's hard to seek solace in almost anything. Yet I was able to take at least a little comfort from medics repeatedly telling me that if you are diagnosed early (known as 'stage 1 to 2'), the disease is often highly treatable. Early breast cancer is more commonly known as stage 1 or 2 breast cancer. Stage 1 or 2 breast cancer is then further divided into stages 1A, 1B, 2A and 2B. Which stage you are diagnosed with depends on whether the cancer is bigger than 2cm or 5cm, and whether it has spread to the lymph nodes, how many and where. Common symptoms include a lump in the breast or armpit, skin dimpling or a change in texture, unusual nipple discharge, nipple changes, and changes in breast size or shape. You can find out more from Cancer Research UK here. Jessie herself has said she is 'holding on' to the word 'early'. The staging system is worked out based on certain factors, such as the size of the cancer, and whether it has spread to lymph nodes in the armpit. (Mine was a little bigger than 5cm overall, but very fortunately, hadn't spread). Prior to getting diagnosed, I was in really good health. I'd been vegetarian since the age of nine, had never smoked, and did exercise most days. There was also no family history of it. But as I have come to understand in the wake of all this, cancer does not discriminate, even when you're a world-famous celebrity. I, and Jessie, are simply two of the unlucky ones. I made the appointment to get myself checked out after finding a lump on my left breast while sitting in the bath a few weeks into lockdown. At the time, I remember thinking it was more just precautionary, as opposed to anything else. At first, even the consultant wasn't too concerned, suggesting it might just be a sporting injury. But the scans soon told a very different story. After going through a blur of mammograms and ultrasounds – and having several biopsies taken – it was confirmed that I was going to need chemotherapy, radiotherapy and surgery. One of the toughest summers of my life followed. I underwent a gruelling four-month chemotherapy regime – consisting of Paclitaxel and Carboplatin – as well as an intense two-week course of daily radiotherapy. And in the midst of all that, I had an operation known as a 'therapeutic mammoplasty.' While this is not as major as a mastectomy, it is more involved than a lumpectomy. It essentially involves surgeons removing the tumour, but trying to save as much of the breast as possible. To paraphrase the words of Jessie J in her heart-wrenchingly honest and emotional Instagram video: 'I got to keep my nipples.' In October 2020, I got the 'all-clear' (or at least the closest thing you get to an 'all-clear' as far as cancer is concerned – as once you've had this disease, you never really get to walk away). All I can say to Jessie J – and anyone going through any version of this gruelling journey right now – is that I am forever grateful to my body for making it through all of this. It may look a little different these days, but I am still here – working full-time, being a mum to two high-octane kids now aged nine and six, playing netball, lifting weights, sea swimming and so much more – and I have my body to thank for that. I have also learned to love my boobs all over again. Jessie J mentioned how she had gone 'back and forth' on sharing her story. Having gone through this life-changing experience, I applaud her bravery and honesty. I am always keen to share mine because by opening myself up and by being vulnerable and brutally honest, I hope I can show the solidarity Jessie speaks of, and maybe even offer a little help to others going through something similar. I also believe that if reading my story gets even one woman to do a breast examination or schedule an appointment, then some good has come out of all I've been through. I can't say it bluntly enough: Checking your boobs could save your life. Hard as it is to write these words, catching breast cancer in its early stages really can be the difference between surviving – and not. Get a tumour removed at an early stage, and there's a far better chance of things going well. In April this year, I reached my fifth year since diagnosis, a not insignificant milestone in my journey, as doctors say that at this stage post treatment, the risk seems to go back down (though the increased risk does not go away completely). More Trending To mark this five-year anniversary, I did a host of fundraising events, including a 'Mighty Hike' along the Cornish coast in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support, raising almost £3,000. And, on April 16 itself, I went to the beach – here, where I live, in beautiful north Devon – with my husband and children, and watched the waves lap against the shore. I also hugged them all hard. Very, very hard. View More » I hope and wish that Jessie J will get to do the same. Do you have a story you'd like to share? Get in touch by emailing Share your views in the comments below. MORE: Women who have a miscarriage in West Virginia could be prosecuted MORE: The words I wish I could say to my 17-year-old closeted self MORE: I'm on benefits – landlords refuse to rent to me Your free newsletter guide to the best London has on offer, from drinks deals to restaurant reviews.