Shapes how you counsel, set expectations, or answer the question a patient brings in from the internet.
PLOS Digit Health·Retrospective EHR cohort, propensity-matched, 25,152 vs 25,152·PMID 42986813·open access·full text and published peer-review file read; supplementary tables not opened
Five authors at the University of Colorado Anschutz, Children's Hospital Colorado and UNC Chapel Hill — the last including Melissa Haendel, a founding lead of the US National COVID Cohort Collaborative — searched that collaborative's database of 19.8 million patient records from more than 80 US institutions for anyone coded with hypermobile Ehlers–Danlos syndrome (hEDS) or with Ehlers–Danlos of unspecified type. After removing the classical and vascular subtypes and incomplete records they had 25,152 people, of whom only 7,786 carried the specific hEDS code; the other two-thirds are unspecified-type EDS counted as “suspected hEDS” on the grounds that 80–90% of EDS is hypermobile. Each was matched one-to-one to a control on age, sex, race, number of visits and contributing site.
What they report. A prevalence of 1 in 788 (0.127%; 1 in 2,549 on the specific code alone). COVID-19 recorded in 9,675 (38.4%) versus 10,370 (41.2%) of controls, which they describe as similar. Long COVID recorded in 1,008 (4.0%) versus 359 (1.4%): conditional odds ratio 2.88 (95% CI 2.55–3.26), and 2.98 (2.18–4.08) for attending a long COVID clinic. Among the hEDS patients with long COVID, 42.7% also carried a POTS code, 42.0% ME/CFS and 25.3% mast cell activation syndrome; 11.9% carried all three. People coded with POTS or MCAS were more likely to receive their hEDS diagnosis after COVID-19 (hazard ratios 2.95 and 2.06); ME/CFS was not (HR 1.08, 95% CI 0.97–1.19). The hEDS group also had more autoimmune, rheumatological and chronic lung diagnoses, more depression and more systemic steroid use.
Bottom lineTwo things to take from it, and one to leave. Take the prompt. In a woman with long COVID or ME/CFS who also has POTS or a mast-cell story, asking about joint hypermobility and examining for it is cheap, and this paper adds to a body of clinical observation that the three travel together; the diagnosis changes physiotherapy, surgical and obstetric conversations even if it changes nothing about the post-viral illness. Take the ME/CFS null. On the paper's own analysis, an ME/CFS code did not make a post-COVID hEDS diagnosis more likely once POTS and MCAS were accounted for — so it offers no support to the idea that ME/CFS is an unrecognised connective-tissue disorder, which some patients will have read. Leave the “three times” figure. It is the ratio of two diagnosis codes in people who use healthcare very differently, and the paper's own data argue that most of it is about who gets coded rather than who gets ill: the hEDS group had significantly fewer confirmed infections, fewer positive PCR tests, less pneumonia and less than half the odds of death of their matched controls, while being three times as likely to be labelled a “possible” COVID case. A patient with hEDS who asks whether she is at triple risk can be told, accurately, that a large records study found more long COVID diagnoses among people like her, that its authors describe the finding as hypothesis-generating, and that nobody checked a single chart.
Weigh it accordingly. A diagnosis-code study with no chart validation of any diagnosis — not hEDS, not long COVID, not ME/CFS — which the authors name as their first limitation, along with misclassification, differences in coding between institutions and residual confounding by healthcare use. Two-thirds of the cohort never received an hEDS code, and the inference from “unspecified EDS” to hEDS is a population proportion applied to individuals. The published peer-review file is worth reading in its own right. The handling editor summarised the first round as finding “some deeply concerning methodological flaws”, with all three reviewers raising mislabelled data, bias, confounding and changed healthcare contact during the pandemic, and the conclusions “stated far too strongly as if the analysis proves causation”; one reviewer said the manuscript did not meet the journal's criteria and the statistics were not appropriate. The editor asked specifically for a chart-review sub-study of 100–200 randomly selected hEDS cases; the published version does not include one, and instead adds a limitations paragraph calling all matched findings “descriptive and hypothesis-generating rather than causal”. The same review flagged 154 hEDS patients coded with vertebral tuberculosis against fewer than 20 controls, which the authors now attribute to miscoding and have removed. The abstract was not brought into line with that paragraph: it still says the findings “establish” hEDS as more prevalent and that patients were “nearly three times more likely to develop Long COVID”. Three internal inconsistencies. First, “similar” infection rates sit beside an odds ratio for confirmed COVID-19 of 0.89 (0.86–0.92), which is a statistically significant deficit, not similarity. Second, the caption of Table 3 says 27% of patients were diagnosed with hEDS after infection “including 10% within six months”, but the table lists 2,547 (27%) diagnosed more than six months after and 933 (10%) within six months as separate rows: the after-infection share is 37%, and 2,547 + 933 + 5,965 = 9,445 confirms it. Third, the abstract says long COVID risk “was concentrated among” those with POTS, MCAS or ME/CFS, but no analysis compares comorbidity-stratified long COVID risk against controls; what was shown is that comorbidities are commoner among hEDS patients who have long COVID than among hEDS patients overall, which is the reverse question. Beyond that, the encounter-adjusted analysis (Fig 4) found no change in the rate of hEDS diagnosis per visit by COVID or long COVID status, which the authors fairly concede leaves “COVID unmasks hEDS” and “sicker people see more doctors” indistinguishable. One figure to treat with suspicion: about 4% of the matched controls carry an ME/CFS code, many times any population estimate, which suggests either a broad concept set (the code list is in a supplementary table this digest did not open) or controls selected, by matching on visit counts, from very heavy users of care. Funding: an NIH training grant to the first author, the Ehlers-Danlos Society — a patient charity with an interest in the condition being recognised as common — and three family foundations, all to the same senior author, plus UNC departmental funds; the authors declare no competing interests. Received in 2025, first decision 28 October 2025, published 5 November 2026. Arithmetic that checks: 7,786 + 24,031 − 5,709 dual-coded = 26,108, less 916 = 25,152; 25,152 of 19.8 million is 0.127%; 1,008 and 359 of 25,152 are 4.0% and 1.4%; 82 of 359 is the 22.8% of control long COVID patients coded with ME/CFS. The 38.4% infection figure is 38.47% truncated rather than rounded, which is immaterial.
Front Public Health·Structured review of 105 trials (68 long COVID, 37 ME)·PMID 42973774·open access·full text read; supplementary trial lists not opened
Nine Dutch authors — from UMC Utrecht, Erasmus MC, Radboud, Maastricht, Twente and Groningen, with two listed as an independent researcher and a research physician in Amsterdam — searched PubMed and ClinicalTrials.gov for trials of biomedical interventions in long COVID and ME (excluding psychological, behavioural, exercise and supplement trials), hand-searched the references of systematic reviews, and catalogued every outcome measure used. They found 68 long COVID and 37 ME trials, using 261 and 175 distinct measures respectively. More than 54% of the patient-reported measures predominantly measure fatigue. Measures specific to PEM were used in 18% of long COVID trials and 5% of ME trials, and all of them were variants of the DePaul Symptom Questionnaire PEM subscale, which the authors criticise for ignoring delayed onset, centring on fatigue and being confounded by pacing — a patient who paces well reports few crashes. Only single-day CPET was used, in 4% of trials. No trial measured return to work.
Its argument about harm is the part she will use. Because PEM can cause lasting decline, “every trial that requires exertion on the part of the participant can lead to harm. This includes factors such as talking, filling out questionnaires, or traveling to the study location.” A prolonged crash can meet the formal definition of a serious adverse event, yet PEM is “not yet routinely implemented in safety protocols or termination criteria”. The authors recommend recording the severity and duration of every PEM episode possibly related to a trial, continuing to measure after the intervention ends, building functional capacity into stopping rules, and not using fatigue scales as the sole primary outcome or mental-health scales whose items are physical symptoms of the illness (the PHQ-9's tiredness, sleep and appetite items, for example). They name the Chalder Fatigue Scale and the Checklist Individual Strength as instruments built on a psychosomatic model, report ceiling and floor effects for the Chalder scale, the CIS, the Fatigue Severity Scale and the SF-36, and single out FUNCAP as the only instrument validated against the International Consensus Criteria severity scale.
Bottom lineThis is the reference to have when a patient asks whether a trial is safe to join, or why the trial she read about found nothing. On safety: the honest answer is that most trials in this illness do not look for the harm she is most at risk of, so “no serious adverse events” in a published trial usually means a crash was not counted, not that none happened — the same point this digest made about the hyperbaric oxygen cohort and the exercise meta-analysis last week, now made by a review of the whole field. On null results: a trial that measured fatigue with a scale already near its ceiling, in people who pace, can miss a real effect on what patients actually experience — which is exactly the open question left by last week's naltrexone trial, whose primary outcome was the Fatigue Severity Scale. That cuts both ways and should be said so: the same argument cannot be used to rescue a drug a patient likes and dismiss one she does not. For her own records: the recommendations double as a clinic checklist — a symptom inventory plus a construct-specific measure, a functional measure that reaches the severe end (FUNCAP is the one they recommend), and a dated note of any crash after an intervention she starts.
Weigh it accordingly. A structured narrative review, not a systematic one: two searchers and two databases, but no search dates, no search strings, no flow diagram and no appraisal of the trials themselves are given in the text, and the trial lists are in supplementary tables this digest did not open. Its recommendations are expert opinion built on that catalogue. Counts that do not reconcile: the abstract gives 397 outcome measures in total while the body gives 261 + 175 = 436; the difference would be explained by 39 measures used in both fields, but that is not stated. Several statements are asserted rather than evidenced in the text read — that long COVID affects “approximately 10%” of people infected, that it overlaps with ME “in 50% of cases”, and that the false-illness-belief theory “has since been disproven” — and the review takes a clear position in the field's central dispute, which a reader should know before quoting it. One citation looks wrong: the claim that pacing effectiveness was “recently shown” to correlate with higher SF-36 scores cites the 2021 paper that developed the DePaul PEM questionnaire, which on its title is about something else; this digest did not read that paper and records the mismatch rather than a finding. The one outcome figure on hyperbaric oxygen is the senior author's own work, and second-hand here: a Dutch HBOT registry for long COVID (Sci Rep 2025, Hellemons a co-author) in which, as the review reports it, 56% improved, 31% did not respond and 13% were worse on the SF-36 at three months, and 4% dropped out because their symptoms worsened. The percentages sum to 100; the registry itself was not read. No funding was received and the authors declare no conflicts; no generative AI was used. Published 19 October 2026, entered PubMed 3 November.