‘DHEA anti-ageing pill’ can have worrying side-effects

When fashion commentator and broadcaster, Caryn Franklin, appeared in the papers earlier this year looking fresh, beautiful - and considerably younger than her 57 years - every woman in the country was clamouring to know her secret.

She confessed she had been taking a little white capsule, called DHEA (short for dehydroepiandrosterone), for the past two years, and was convinced it helped to counteract - even reverse - the frustrating mental and physical stagnation that can come with middle age. I knew I absolutely wanted some of that.

In America, land of the youth-obsessed, you can pick up DHEA at any pharmacy and, unsurprisingly, it is extremely popular with women in their 50s like me (I'm 51).

A quick search reveals internet forums buzzing with enthusiasm for its incredible rejuvenating qualities, with legions of fans on both sides of the Atlantic hailing it as the 'elixir of youth'.

It seems DHEA is a hormone pre-cursor (sometimes called the 'mother of hormones') naturally produced by our adrenal glands, which provides the biological building materials the body draws on to keep other hormones, particularly oestrogen and testosterone, at a healthy youthful level.

We pump out plenty of the stuff when we are young, with levels peaking in our 20s. But DHEA production, like everything else (enthusiasm, drive, wit, libido, joie de vivre and whatever it is that that ensures a fulsome bust defies gravity) slowly drops as we age.

It turns out DHEA levels dip faster if you live a hideously stressful life (teenage kids, ageing parents ...) and dwindles down to a paltry 10 per cent of its maximum production by the time we reach 70.

I have spent the past ten years eating 'clean', juicing greens, exercising myself into a sweaty pulp, and popping an assortment of vitamin cocktails in a desperate quest to hold back the ravages of age, but it is increasingly obvious there has been a window left open somewhere and my precious DHEA has been escaping fast.

Without this important hormone platform-builder, oestrogen and testosterone levels fall, making DHEA the evil metabolic villain responsible for tipping us into the dreaded menopause and the hideous decrepitude of old age.

Yes, there are warnings on the bottle; too much DHEA can cause acne, a deepened voice, oily skin and even hair thinning, but, if you get the dose right, it promises to give you the bright eyes, glossy hair and vitality of a woman in her 20s.

In fact, there are plenty of studies to show that taking a DHEA supplement to restore your levels artificially to where they might have been in your prime could well reverse some aspects of the ageing process; improving memory and thinking skills, restoring sexual vigour and even helping protect against age-related conditions like cancer and heart disease.

It sounds too good to be true, but a key difference between DHEA and so many other so-called wonder supplements (such as melatonin and co-enzyme Q10) is the fact that it comes with an impressive scientific track record.

Thousands of studies dating back 40 years suggest DHEA really could help protect our bones from crumbling, reduce levels of the harmful 'visceral' fat that can cling to our internal organs and gather on our waist, buffer brain cells against the destructive effect of the stress hormone cortisol, and boost levels of the feel-good hormone serotonin to help prevent depression.

It can also simultaneously support the immune system, stimulate collagen production to rejuvenate ageing skin, as well as improving focus and mood.

Some studies show it can increase the texture and hydration of the top layers of skin, and others show just one month's supply is enough to improve vision and memory in middle-aged and older women.

Many private doctors in the UK are so convinced by its rejuvenating powers they add it to the 'natural' HRT cocktail offered to women who chose the bio-identical hormone route to tackling some of the common symptoms of menopause.

I am utterly sold.

Could it boost my flagging energy levels, sharpen my witty repartee, speed my pathetic lifelong attempts at weight loss (getting me back into those size 10 skinny white jeans), lift my jowls, smooth my laughter lines and return me to the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed woman I once used to be?

When I talk to Caryn Franklin, she tells me she saw a noticeable impact on her vitality when she added DHEA to the armoury of supplements which included melatonin (to help balance her sleep patterns), vitamins and minerals, as well as bio-identical hormones she had been prescribed.

'I had got to a point in my mid-50s where it felt as if my body was running on empty,' she says, 'I was drained, exhausted, and emotionally depleted, but after seeking help from a variety of experts, including a counsellor and a kinesiologist, I was advised to replace my oestrogen supplement with a very low dose of DHEA (15mg).

'Gradually my body started to feel like my own again. I started feeling optimistic, and lighter - mentally and physically - and the clarity of thought I had enjoyed all my adult life returned.'

My 'want' for DHEA escalates into a physical and emotional 'need'. Infuriatingly, though, it is not on the prescription list with any NHS GP. Although in the U.S. it is classified as a 'food supplement' and freely available to any old crone in need of a pep-up, in this country it is classed as a 'medicine', so legally available by private prescription only.

Experts strongly warn against buying it online because, they say, there is no way of knowing the dose or potency and U.S. studies have shown some products sold as DHEA contained none of it at all, while others contain more than the labelled amount.

A friend recommends Dr Daniel Sister, one of many London-based private doctors who includes DHEA in his hormonal dispensary. Yes, he can write me a prescription but only if a blood test shows I'm lacking. 'DHEA is not a wonder drug,' he warns, 'if a person needs it, the effect of a daily supplement can be quite miraculous, but if they don't need it, the side-effects can be dreadful.

'This is a serious hormonal product and not something to be considered lightly.' Studies show that DHEA levels tend to be naturally higher in people who look and feel young, and lower in people who feel tired and old, overwhelmed, with poor libido and low moods.

My levels must be on the floor. A blood test (Dr Sister charges £350 for a full medical and hormonal consultation, then £180 for any follow-ups) confirms the diagnosis.

A woman's natural DHEA levels normally peak at around 400mcg/dl in her mid-20s, drop to an average of 250 mcg in her 40s, 200 in her 50s, and less than 100 at 60. (Men max out at more than 600mcg in their 20s - lucky things! - but suffer a sharper decline in their twilight years).

The test shows my DHEA reading is less than 200 and Dr Sister says he is happy to prescribe a 25mcg daily supplement to bring my DHEA levels up to a twenty-something 400mcg.

A ring around a few pharmacies in the Cotswolds draws a blank, so I send my prescription to a private London pharmacy and two month's supply (£54) arrives in the post the next day.

Dr Sister says my body will use the DHEA to boost levels of the hormones I need, so if I am lacking in oestrogen (as would be expected of a woman my age) it should help stimulate my ovaries to produce more, and if I'm lacking in testosterone (also very likely given my snoozing sex drive), it will lift my levels gently and naturally.

I have no qualms about going cold turkey on the bio-identical hormones I had been prescribed two years earlier to ease me through the emotional upheaval of perimenopause.

Dr Sister tells me that clearing the hormonal decks like this should allow the DHEA to find its natural level and allow my body to get its own hormones in order.

A repeat blood test in a month's time would then asses the extent to which the DHEA has kicked my hormones back into action so an ongoing hormonal cocktail can be tailored accordingly. I am giddy with excitement, which, with hindsight, probably skips me through the first week without any hormonal props.

In fact I feel a little smug that something so 'natural' is keeping me on such an even emotional keel.

Dr Sister had told me it may take a month for the DHEA to settle into my system, but by the end of the first week I am noticing surges of euphoria (possibly because I genuinely think I'm growing younger from the inside) and, if I'm not very much mistaken, a noticeable hike in my previously missing (presumed dead) libido.

When a tiny pimple appears in the middle of my left cheek I'm mildly amused. It's been more than 30 years since I last had a spot and it seems funny to be badgering my teenage children for their concealer.

But when I called Dr Jan Toledano at the Marion Gluck Clinic (which specialises in women and hormones) to ask her opinion of DHEA (which she, like many private doctors, regularly prescribes) she swipes the smile right off my zitty face.

She warns that spots could be a sign that the DHEA is generating too many male hormones (androgens).

'DHEA is excellent,' she says, 'but you should be balancing the other hormones at the same time, as DHEA can only have a minimal impact on oestrogen levels.'

Without sufficient oestrogen to balance or oppose this surge, my testosterone output, newly bolstered by the DHEA, could dominate. This, she says, could put me at risk of irreversible horrors like thinning hair, a deeper voice and facial hair.

The deep voice I can live with, and - to be honest - I've been fastidiously plucking pesky blonde hairs from my chin for years. But thinning hair? That's a tough call. Oh, it's a difficult decision. I catch sight of myself in the mirror the next morning and notice a tightening up of my trunk, less ooze over my waistband and a shrinking of back fat.

And I am definitely loving this fired up, energetic feeling that has me skipping out of bed and charging around the tennis court.

But as my second week on DHEA moves into the third, that small spot becomes rather large and is refusing to budge, and I notice I'm beginning to feel more anxious at times.

Perhaps my workload had increased. Maybe the kids (I have three: aged 18, 16 and 13) were being particularly irritating, but I notice myself feeling premenstrual, a bit snappy, slightly paranoid, irritated and put-upon - most of the time.

Ironically these were some of the awful traits, along with an irrational sense of anxiety and a fuggy-headedness that bordered on early dementia, that had sent me in search of HRT in the first place.

I know mine is hardly a scientifically-controlled experiment, and my renewed emotional instability may be as much due to the sudden cutting of my HRT oestrogen lifeline as the impact of DHEA, but, whatever the hormonal mix, the inside of my head is fast becoming a very unpleasant place to be.

It makes me wonder: could DHEA be transporting me so far back in time that I'm passing right through my 20s to the skin problems and erratic and irrational (though libidinous) behaviour of my turbulent teenage years?

In the end it isn't the spot that pulls me up short, it's my 18-year-old daughter. After a particularly stressful day battling the conflicting demands of home and work something clicks and a swirling red mist descends.

Perched in front of the TV, I suddenly experience a completely out of character teeth-gritted testosterone-charged fury that sends me storming around the house slightly out of control.

My long-suffering husband ducks out of my way but driven by some crazed Incredible Hulk sense of righteous vitriol, I pick a massive fight with my daughter which leaves us both in tears.

As the tension eases, we cling to each other sobbing. She pulls back, looks me in the eye and solemnly says: 'This isn't you Mum! What's going on? Please stop taking that DHEA!'

I hadn't realised she knew I was taking it. So, for her sake, I stop.

It's been two weeks now since I gave up. I have to confess I do still find myself looking longingly at the little pot of 'miracle' DHEA pills by my bedside and thinking: 'Maybe the dose was slightly too high for me? What's the harm in one every now and then?'

Sadly, I have to admit that perhaps my quest for eternal youth might have gone just a little bit too far.  

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