Bitten by the research bug

Andrew Mathieson
SCRUBBING the bottom of a shower recess for bacteria is the least of worries for two Deakin University researchers fighting antibiotic-resistant superbugs.
Fred Pfeffer and Luke Henderson have discovered a world-first in alternative treatments against the sort of infections killing sick patients in hospitals around the globe.
Their work recently won the region’s highest honour for scientific endeavour, the Researcher of the Year Award.
Fred quotes figures suggesting a 47 per cent increase in bacterial resistance to old drugs in five years just to 2003.
With lab coats on and microscopes in focus, they have built “rigid molecules” toward winning humankind’s battle against the killer bugs.
At home, the scientists drop their guard.
“Disinfectant advertisers beat that up a lot about the whole anti-bacterial thing being fantastic,” Fred says.
“Well, I think a lot of it’s hogwash – wash your hands with hot, soapy water and they’re clean.
“You don’t need to have bactericidal disinfectant. That’s a part of the problem – the bacteria are getting more exposed to these bacteria sites.”
A shortfall in further antibiotic discovery against the nasties for more than a decade forced the scientific fraternity to act.
The Deakin pair’s research breakthrough came from an idea Fred had in 2007 for a natural product that has bad side affects. Now they’re trying to improve their agent while maintaining its potency.
“Where we are at is probably step one out of 10 steps,” Fred surmises.
Luke argues they have a “proof of concept” at least.
“I like that, actually,” Fred responds, “that is a much better term.”
Luke counts he has performed more than 1000 spectroscopic checks for bacteria in the past 12 months alone, spending up to six days a week and 10 hours a day on the research.
Trial and error is par for the course and persistence is his closest ally.
“You might come up with a way to make a molecule but you get half way and the next step won’t work – and you don’t know why,” Luke says.
“Sometimes you can glean information from that, so it’s a lot of coming to a stop, renegotiating the path and trying again.
“That’s why it’s called research.”
Fred points out a molecule scheme on a whiteboard. The image is full of hundreds of atoms, complexly drawn together.
The arrows between each of the molecules indicate how the organic chemists think the structure will work.
“But it doesn’t take much to put a big cross through one of those arrows,” Fred laughs.
For the “molecule makers”, their work can be a cruel passion.
“I think having thick skin is a good thing,” Fred warns.
Luke gasps aloud and nods.
We call it character building,” he says.
Such treatments often take 12 years – sometimes more – to rigorously test and develop at a cost in excess of $1 billion. The cost is so high that aspirin would today struggle to pass the stringent standards, both men say.
Most pharmaceutical companies clean up on the ideas of hard-working scientists.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not bitter,” Fred laughs.
The university has a patent on the concept and the researchers make little money.
At least they get a high from the discoveries, if not their pay packets.
“The goal for us is not so much the cash but the publications that come out if it,” Luke remarks.
“They help us get funding, carry more research and being crushed further.
“You don’t become a chemist for the money.”
For Fred, surfing temporarily cleans the mind scientific thought. The 38-year-old Jan Juc resident caught the surfing bug aged just 10,
“People in science ask how did I get into that but I say it wasn’t unusual in Torquay – everyone else I knew was doing it.”
The pair have a perfect chemistry in the laboratory but are poles apart outside.
Luke describes himself as a 28-year-old Drumcondra computer nerd.
“I’m wicked at Guitar Hero – I am – I never have Guitar Hero off, actually,” he brags.
“You can say you’re wicked, that is until you get someone playing real guitar.
“You’re just standing there with a Fisher Price toy.”