Many people end up being conquered by what they set out to conquer, but Richard K. Olney, 64, a pioneer in doing research on amyotrophic lateral sclerosis at the University of California at San Francisco, endured that fate in a particularly poignant way. Eight years ago, Dr. Olney came down with the relatively rare disease he had been studying for 18 years.
He died at his home in Marin County, Calif., on January 27.
At any given time, about 30,000 Americans are living with the muscle-wasting illness, as compared with the millions who cope with cancer or heart disease. Each year, says the ALS Association, about two of every 100,000 people in the United States will be diagnosed with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease.
Dr. Olney was founding director of the ALS Treatment and Research Center at San Francisco. A professor of neurology, he joined the faculty in 1985. His interest in the diagnosis and management of motor-neuron diseases led him to focus on ALS.
A small clinic established on the campus in 1993 to treat the disease grew into the center, which Dr. Olney led from its opening, in 1999, until 2004, when he was diagnosed with ALS, the university said.
The next year he became the first test subject in a placebo-controlled, double-blind clinical trial that he had developed before becoming ill to evaluate two drugs. As it turned out, he was given a drug, ritonavir, normally used to combat AIDS.
His participation in that and other studies "made him more altruistic," said Catherine Lomen-Hoerth, a neurologist who now directs the research center, and who was trained by and then treated Dr. Olney. Although he was aware that his involvement might never benefit him, he wanted to do what he could to advance the research, she said. She noted that, as a patient and study subject, Dr. Olney had an opportunity that many professors don't: to observe firsthand the impact of his teaching on his trainees.
A science writer for the San Francisco Chronicle described last year how Dr. Olney was working with his son to write one final paper on his research. As is characteristic of the illness, Dr. Olney had lost nearly all his muscle control but not his mental acuity. He communicated what he wanted to say by moving his pupils and blinking to indicate which letter to choose from a computer tablet.
He did not complete the paper before his death, a university spokeswoman said, but Dr. Lomen-Hoerth plans to collaborate with his son to finish it.
