The magical role of the doormen

Half of all pharmaceuticals work because of a family of proteins that sit on the boundary of cells in the human body. This year’s Nobel prize in chemistry was awarded to Robert Lefkowitz and Brian Kobilka for their work on a family proteins called G protein-coupled receptors (GPCRs). Nearly every function of the human body from smell and sight to heart rate modification is dependent on GPCRs. Dr Lefkowitz and Dr Kobilka have helped us understand their chemical structure and mode of action to help create better means of manipulating them to our advantage.

Embedded in the fatty membranes of cells, GPCRs act as doormen to a mansion. They detect chemical signals that reach the cell and convey messages through creation of G proteins inside the cell. These G proteins that take on the role of maid servants then act on the message by activating the necessary response.

But this was not known until the 1960s. All that was known then was that hormones communicated with cells in someway but no one knew how. Dr Lefkowitz started probing these hormones by attaching radioactive isotope Iodine on to them. This revealed that the cell membrane had special proteins that acted as telegraph operators relaying information from one side to the other. He was able to identify one class of these proteins called beta-2 adrenergic receptors. These are interesting because they are now implicated in responding to the neurotransmitter adrenaline known to control the fight-or-flight response.

In 1984 when Dr Kobilka arrived in Dr Lefkowitz’s lab, the lab was working on duplicating the gene sequence that made beta-2 adernergic receptors. If they could, then it would enable them to know more about the role of these proteins and how they work. When they eventually managed to do it, after a lot of failed attempts, they realised that this protein was very similar to rhodopsin, a protein that sits in the retina and is responsible our perception of light. Rhodopsin was known to activate G-proteins in the cell and that is it was thought that these could be a class of proteins, now known as GPCRs.

We now know that human body has about 800 GPCRs splayed across different cells performing some of the most critical functions. About half of these are predicted to be pharmaceutically useful, but less than 10% of that have drugs targeting them today. A major hurdle in creating pharmaceuticals for them is because little is known about the chemical structure of these proteins.

A way to shine light on the chemical nature of proteins is by using X-ray crystallography. To do that though, a protein first needs to be crystallised (lots of molecules arranged in a regular fashion in a tiny space). Proteins, in general, and GPCRs, particularly, are notoriously difficult at doing that. Of the 63 million proteins registered in the database of the Chemical Abstracts Service, only 600 have comprehensive structural data available for them. But in 2007 after decades of work Dr Kobilka managed to tame the beta-2 adrenergic receptors and published its structure in Nature.

The pharmaceutical industry has only started scratching the surface when it comes to designing drugs that affect GPCRs. And that has been the result of many decades of efforts by structural biologists and medicinal chemists in academia and industry. The work of Dr Lefkowitz and Dr Kobilka has opened the possibility of better understanding what one scientist calls cell biology—an alien world that has the most profound impact on humanity.

Main references:
  1. Rasmussen et al, Nature, 2007
  2. Buchen, Nature, 2011
  3. Sansom, Chemistry World, 2010
Image from here.

The timing of conversations

There are many types of conversations. One that concerns me today is the result of self-contemplation. During this phase, you tend to build a train of thoughts that lead to a question. The question needs to be answered, but you can’t find the answer. That’s why the need for a conversation.

For this purpose, you usually seek a person who knows you well. And these people are usually in short supply. But as unreasonable as it seems sometimes it is important to talk about something at that very moment. I don’t think I am alone in feeling this way, am I?  

The beauty of a blank page

For a writer, a blank page can be one of the most intimidating things. If he spends 10,000 hours in becoming an expert writer, then a big chunk of it tends to be spent staring at a blank page (on the screen or otherwise).

Likewise, the first sentence of an article may be the sentence that gets rewritten the most. After all, that first sentence marks the birth of a piece of writing and the end of the frustrating existence of a blank page.

But underneath all this annoyance, there lies beauty. The blank page is a world of possibilities. Some may find that overwhelming, but I find it exhilarating.

To me a blank page is like giving a sculptor the perfect chunk of stone: What is to become of it he does not know but he surely is looking forward to the end product. He knows that the hours in the middle will be spent sweating over each stroke of his hammer on the chisel, but that is the process that makes him feel alive. When the masterpiece is complete, the world will shower him with praises (or criticisms). The sculptor may find some pleasure in that, but he will have already begun looking for the next piece of stone to sculpt.

And there lies the trick: Sometimes we forget that the blank page is not just the means to an end.