UnSpace

Because my depression is gone (still, thank God![literally, I might add]), I'm getting things done better and more efficiently than before — but I'm also doing more! This "Acting Communications Director" gig at my church has me working harder than I expected. I'm having fun doing it, which means a lot of my energy is going toward the newsletter, bulletin, and all the other things the job entails.

I don't have the time to blog that I once did. I do hope to do a couple posts this weekend, but in the meantime, here's an update or three:

1. I asked the question about "church marketing," knowing I'd be attending a seminar on church marketing by Yvon Prehn. She answered my questions, including some I didn't know I had, and a follow-up post will discuss that. But now that I think about it, the answer is the same as the answer for the standard technology question "Is ______________ evil?" Are computers evil? Is biochemistry evil? Is church marketing evil? The technology is neutral; the question is, what are you doing with that technology? If you're using it to send out computer viruses, neurotoxins, or stuff designed to manipulate people, then what you are doing with the technology is evil. But if you're using the computer to turn data from a CT scanner into images a doctor can use to save a life, medicines to cure HIV or diabetes, or let people know who Jesus is or when the collection of goods for the needy is, then of course it's good. Yvon pointed out some Biblical answers. Yeah, I was impressed. If you're involved in church communications, you should take one of her seminars! More than one, actually! Her web site is a great resource. I'm not just saying that because she wants me to send her the link to this blog.
2. Speaking of links to this blog, I need to get up a statement that points out all of the opinions expressed here are either mine or me playing with ideas. This blog is not sponsored by my church, my church does not even have imprimaturs to give out, and I know some of the opinions expressed here are part of big discussions in my church. This is my blog.
3. I was talking with someone about Mother Theresa, and before I even got to my theory about her, the person said "You know a lot about depression. Did she strike you as terribly depressed?" It's the whole "microexpressions" and body language thing (c.f. Blink). I'm beginning to realize just how much I operate on intuition — trained experience on a subconscious level. So yeah, I have no doubt Mother Theresa was depressed. If anything, watching her when she speaks in a language I don't know improves my ability to catch it. No, it's not a DSM-4 level of diagnosis — I can think of other things that present as depression. As a rough analysis goes, though, she was depressed. And yes, I blame the Catholic church for being in denial about her depression. There are very few churches out there that aren't in denial about psychological problems among their members. If you think I'm picking on the Catholic church, remember that they're just the most public current example.

More later.

What if this isn't the end to the depression, but rather a respite?

I've had medications work and then fail. How do I know this one won't?

I don't, I guess. There might be some good reasons to suspect this is long-term.

• I've been on the drug four months. Previous antidepressants failed after a couple months — this one started working after a couple months.
• August is one of my worst months, with Advent and tax time being the other two. Not being depressed in August is impressive.
• Some family things have come up that should have made me crash. I'm concerned, but not depressed.

Declaring an end to the depression might have been premature. But this is different from how I've felt in decades. I guess I'm a little excited about it.

When did I stop being depressed?

I was at church yesterday, and it hit me: I'm not depressed. I haven't been for a while. Even stranger, this is toward the end of August, which has been a terrible time for decades. Wouldn't having a crippling, suffocating weight lifted from you stand out? I guess not. I'm pretty sure the antidepressant is responsible. Still, purchasing a backup radio-controlled helicopter might be a good idea. Just in case.

But I'm not depressed any more.

Oh wow. This is so cool.

I'm not depressed any more.

Alli will become the first anti-obesity drug available over the counter.

Supposedly, Alli  (the over-the-counter version of  Xenical (Orlistat)) works by inhibiting the breakdown of triglycerides in the gut. You don't absorb the triglycerides, you don't absorb Alli. I can't help but wonder if the real mechanism of action is because this drug enforces a 15 g maximum of fat per meal  by causing — how do I wish to say this? — gastrointestinal distress. All that fat remains in your gut, causing flatulence and diarrhea.

They use disulfiram (Antabuse) for alcoholics; Alli is for people addicted to food. I'd almost forgotten about the folks who'd take their Antabuse, go out binge drinking, and then call 911. We're talking super unhappy major Godzilla hangover (which might be a great name for a Japanese game show).

That said, I'm seriously thinking of it.

Note: Talk with your doctor before you start this. Vitamin supplements are needed, and I have to wonder if this drug messes with birth control pills. I'm definitely curious, but that's not something I have to worry about!

Based on advanced X-ray exams, scientists now know the arrow that is still imbedded in Ötzi nicked an artery, causing Ötzi to bleed internally to death almost immediately after he was shot. Scientists suspect another hunter, but no one is currently listed as a "Iceperson of Interest."One clue to the murderer: in his stomach, Ötzi had venison and ibex. Speculation is that Ötzi got someone's goat, and they got Ötzi in revenge.

Oxygen kills. And maybe it doesn't have to. Right now, Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) is still the thing to do when someone's heart stops. But in the future, that might not be the case.

Imagine a person who stops breathing. The heart, out of oxygen to burn fuel to create energy to pump, stops. Four to six minutes after the heart stops, brain cells begin to die.

That last part isn't correct. If the person is left to lie there, with no medical treatment, the brain cells are still alive an hour or more after the heart stops. Once the heart stops, the brain cells will die, but it takes far, far longer than anyone thought.

But let's assume a paramedic shows up after, say, ten minutes. She pulls out the defibrillator, shocks the heart from fine v-fib into a normal rhythm, and starts pumping oxygen into the lungs with the Bag-Valve-Mask (aka BVM). Oxygen enters the blood and makes it's way to the brain. The oxygen enters the brain cell and diffuses toward the mitochondria. Mitochondria are the power plants of the cell. They combine oxygen and glucose and turn it into energy to run everything. But the mitochondria have been without oxygen for too long. How isn't exactly known, but for some reason, the mitochondria respond to the oxygen as if the cell it belongs to has turned cancerous. To protect the rest of the body, the mitochondria cause the cell to destroy itself. Mitochondria throughout the brain and the rest of the body send signals out to destroy the cells of the person, and only then does the person begin to die.

Without oxygen, the cell will eventually die. With oxygen, the cell dies faster.

Now, imagine we find out what causes the mitochondria to "commit suicide." What if we could stop that signal? Things get weird. Bystanders would no longer perform CPR. Paramedics would pump a new drug into the patient, without giving the patient oxygen. At the hospital, after the drug has spread throughout the body and into the cells and into the mitochondria, only then would the patient be given oxygen.

In fact, imagine instead, someone with a spurting arterial wound in a car accident. The paramedics can only slow the bleeding, and the Rescue truck will take at least 15 minutes with the Jaws of Life to get the patient out of the car. A paramedic crawls inside with the dying man, and with reassuring words, administers the new drug and then stops the patient's heart. About 45 minutes later at the hospital, after the surgeons have fixed the wound,  the patient's heart is restarted, oxygen administered, and a patient that would have died instead lives to thank the paramedic who killed him.

Most disturbing, imagine a patient with a terminal disease. Breathing stops, and the heart trembles and finally quits. Family gathers around and says goodbye. Then the nurses come in, clean the body and place the body in the plastic bag and zipper it up, ready for the funeral home. But strangely, the brain is not dead. The brain is not active, but neither is the brain dead.

Unfortunately, we don't have that "mitochondrial suicide-stopping" drug yet. Perhaps it's not even possible. For now, CPR by bystanders, calling 911, paramedics providing Advanced Cardiac Life Support, and emergency rooms equipped to save "hearts too good to die" will be the way to go. But in the years from now, emergency medicine might get really weird.

I've been on a new anti-depressant for two weeks.

Depression comes in two forms: typical and atypical. Typical, in addition to the other symptoms, is associated with weight loss. Atypical, in addition to other symptoms, is associated with weight gain. In one of "those" occurrences in science, atypical depression is far more common than typical. Alas, I've got atypical.

Most anti-depressants make you want to eat too much. The problem is severe enough that doctors are supposed to watch  patients on antidepressants to make sure they don't become diabetic. Just to make things even happier, even after weight, exercise levels, and everything else is accounted for, a new study shows that depression is a risk factor for diabetes in and of itself. Nice little vicious circle, huh? I'm a diabetic, for those of you who haven't been following along playing the home game.

Well, the anti-depressants would work on me for a while and then stop. So, all the anti-depressants were doing was resulting in mighty expensive urine and causing me to gain weight — a bad thing for diabetics, since weight gain makes diabetes worse. The last time I went into the doctor I told him "Look, nothing is working. Why don't we try Bupropion?" This isn't an anti-depressant that should work on me, but it causes weight loss. It also has "fewer sexual side effects." I'm sure you've seen the commercial. Even if Bupropion did nothing for my depression, I'd take the weight loss and probably be happier overall. Not dying tends to make me happier. I'm weird that way. The psychiatrist shrugged and wrote the script. It was one of those cynical "risk benefit" trade-off times medicine and "House, MD" are so fond of.

Fast forward two weeks. Yesterday was the first day I took two pills of Bupropion. After the first pill, my mouth went dry and my eyes went…wrong. Why the doctor had to ramp up the dosage seemed apparent. Then I tried to get to sleep at 11 o'clock. Usually, I climb into bed, read about a page of a book and have trouble putting the book down before I fall asleep. The book wasn't that interesting, so I put it down after a chapter and tried to force sleep. Bzzzz! Wrong answer. Finally around 3:30 a.m., I fell asleep — and then woke up at 6:30 a.m. so I could go to the church and finish printing the church newsletter so the volunteers could fold and label it. The printer broke yesterday, so we didn't finish printing it in time.

By noon, the newsletter was printed, folded, labeled, sorted into the bulk mail groups, taken to the North Side and mailed at the bulk mail facility. I skipped coffee, because I didn't need it. Let me take that back. I didn't dare drink coffee.

Well, the newsletter was done a day early, despite my setting an ambitious time schedule for myself. It was done well enough, although I can tell you about 300 things that are wrong with it. But I don't look at the newsletter and start mumbling how "All I can do is crank out crap." There was no drama, no major crisis. I got the newsletter finished early. Changing the saddle staple cartridges was about as dangerous as it got. Granted, if I were to break the new Cannon networked copier, there would be some excitement, but the copier walks you through changing the cartridges! Don't tell anyone the copier explains how to fix itself. They think I'm some sort of genius. It's all P.R.!

I'm down a pound, with no effort. Not much, but it's a start.

I don't feel depressed, but that happens with every anti-depressant at the start. Ask me mid- to late August how I'm feeling and we'll see how well Bupropion is working. That's one of the three "crashes" of the year, up there with Christmas and taxes. I wish I'd started the Bupropion before taxes. Now there was some drama!

For right now, I'll take it. I do hope I get more than three hours of sleep tonight. I don't feel sleepy, but I do feel something that feels like an all-nighter, only without the lack of sleep.

So tell me. If obesity is a moral problem, then why does diabetes cause weight gain? If it's a question of will, how could I run three marathons and not lose any weight? Do most anti-depressants make me less of a moral person? Does Bupropion make me more moral?

Well, that last one is a hope. One pound lost does not a weight loss program make; it's only a start.

They weren't red and white Playmate ice chests I was used to seeing years ago. The orange boxes appeared to be cardboard with integral handles. Variously colored stickers over the boxes clearly identified the contents conclusively. The airline employee, moving at a deliberate pace, pushed the dolly they were on down the hallway to the green scrub-suited person you can see above. They carefully took the boxes in, the paperwork quickly signed, and then the man in scrubs, the orange boxes, and their precious contents were gone.

I found myself marveling at the scene, and how a snippet of death and life played out in front of me.

Note: The above photo was taken with my Pocket PC camera phone, enhanced, and cropped.

I bet a video of the dentist slicing my gums open and scraping tooth and bone with sharp metal objects would be a hit on YouTube.

Between HIPAA and the surgeon's malpractice insurance company, I doubt anyone would have permitted me to video the surgery. Now that it's over with, I'm sort of curious as to what it looked like. I spent a lot of time with my eyes closed so that I couldn't see what he was sticking in my mouth.

I did watch him do the stitches, though. The knots he used are the same knots one uses for tying fishing line. I checked: the oral surgeon doesn't fish.

What is "copy number variation" (CNV) and how could it be related to autism?

The recent issue of the journal "Science" magazine has an article "Strong Association of De Novo Copy Number Mutations with Autism." In their news section, there is a short article explaining the findings. An article on Yahoo! titled "DNA 'glitches' tied to autism, researchers say" gives a bit more information on the results, and was how I was alerted to the topic. The Scientific American article is a bit more thorough, but possibly a bit more difficult for he layperson. On the other hand, the Health News Stat article (like most on the web) is so vague on the type of mutation that it almost sounds as if they are discussing Single Nucleotide Polymorphisms (SNP) instead. I had to dig to figure out this was a discussion about the same article. So I thought I'd try to explain some of the basic concepts to you. I hope this post makes the available news stories easier to understand.

Definitions:

• Single Nucleotide Polymorphism: DNA is made up of four nucleotides: Adenine, Thymine, Cytosine, and Guanine (ATCG). All human DNA is just a combination of these "letters. " Groups of three letters "stand" for an amino acid or instruction like "stop" and, in long groups this is how genes are "spelled out." A single nucleotide polymorphism is where one of those words is "spelled" differently by one letter - a single nucleotide is different. Thanks to the way the cell interprets those groups of three "letters," the change is usually insignificant. The variation may do nothing, might make the gene slightly more or less effective, or it might even break the gene. Changes can be spontaneous, caused by chemical damage to the DNA, radiation zapping a nucleotide, or genetic accidents. These changes, when passed down, become variations of the gene that can be seen in the general population, and these variations are called "polymorphisms." The British are "sort of all related," and they spell the word "colour," whereas the Americans (also "sort of related") all spell the word "color." It's not a perfect analogy, but it gets the general idea across.Interestingly, while most of these changes are rare, meaning that people with the same variation have a common ancestor with the variation, this isn't always true. Once DNA was discovered, collections of SNPs were thought to be how organisms evolved. This would be like an American child spelling the word "coler." It's not a common variation, and it's probably not going to catch on.I'd like to mention that some areas of the DNA tend to break spontaneously in the same place and in the same way. Even if the parents didn't have that polymorphism, the child might, and a lot of other unrelated children might have that polymorphism as well. Exactly why this happens and how is an area of great interest. That's scientific talk for "We don't understand this, but really want to!" If "coulor" were a common misspelling among British children, people might want to know what such a consistent mistake tells us about how children learn.
• Copy Number Variation:You've heard that human and chimpanzee DNA is about 95-98% alike, correct? The genes that the two species have are quite similar, and they even tend to be spelled quite similarly, and this caused a great puzzle for biologists. How could such a minute variation result in such two very different organisms? The answer, it turns out, is Copy Number Variation. If we use the "word analogy" from the SNP explanation, then the difference is not so much in how chimp and human DNA spells the words, but in how often the words appear in the DNA. CNV is the investigation of how many copies of a gene or a region of DNA an organism has. It turns out they can be quite different.But why would this matter? One answer is that this affects genetic regulation. Think of two parties: one where one person calls out for pizza, and one where ten people call out for pizza at the same time. If pizza is only ordered one at a time, the first party may be very hungry and break up early so that everyone can stop at McDonald's on the way home. The other party may wind up with enough pizzas for everyone, or possibly too many pizzas, in which case everyone gets angry at having to shell out money for pizza that goes to waste. In the same way, by having more copies of a particular gene, what that gene does may be amplified. Whether the amplification helps or not is an important question.You know all those various dogs you see in those dog shows? All those variations are produced by CNVs. CNVs are very easy to change, and they allow for safe mutation of an organism. A change in copy number tends to produce a subtle variation in the organism and is less likely to kill it. CNV is an important mechanism for evolution.CNV may even help evolution in other ways. You have two copies of each chromosome, except for men who have one X and one Y. These copies can trade chunks between each other, and CNVs may tell the chromosomes where to line up to swap pieces. If you have long stretches of the same DNA, repeated over and over, the DNA of the two chromosomes may line up faster there and be more likely to swap.

CNV and Autism

The scientists looked at the genes of families where only one person was autistic. Variations there are new — the "de novo" in the title of the paper. These are not genetic variations the parents have, and it's unlikely the siblings will have this variation. They found CNV variation on twenty different chromosomes, and there may be hundreds of possible sites where this variation can occur and cause what's called "autism."

Autism is a "spectrum" disorder. Some people have cases so mild they're simply labeled "odd." I wouldn't be surprised to find out that I'm that way; I can get absorbed in certain subjects and while I can relate to others, I have to work at that more than most people. Some have mild versions that, once you think about it, are pretty obvious: Bill Gates is a classic example who gets cited in a lot of discussions about autism. There are, at the other extreme, versions of autism that require high levels of care from others for a lifetime.

CNV's being the cause of such a variation makes sense. Since there are hundreds of possible locations for the CNV to occur, some sites may cause more severe versions of autism than others, and the variation in the number of copies will also affect severity.

CNVs can change number spontaneously. When chromosomes cross, or when other DNA reactions occur, copies of a region may be lost or added. Spontaneous changes in the number of CNVs are far more likely than spontaneous changes in single nucleotides, and they're less likely to be lethal. Many of the factors that are related to changes in Copy Number Variations are known factors that relate to autism, such as the age of the father when the child was conceived.

CNVs that produce mild forms of autism are likely to be passed onto children. So whereas the study involved new cases of autism in a family, CNVs with numbers that result in autism could also explain familial inheritance patterns as well.

Migratory birds have a multitude of tricks for telling which way to fly. Among them are tiny magnetic stones that permit them to sense the magnetic field. So do some other creatures, including certain bacteria, though no one knows what sensing the magnetic field does for bacteria. Some humans can do it, too.

There's not a tremendous amount of research on the subject. The field sounds too much like paranormal sideshow antics or the ravings of someone who takes "Harry Potter" a little too seriously. It's also not that important, especially in an age with GPS, OnStar and even paper maps. Who do you want to get the government funding — a cancer researcher or someone looking into the ability of people to tell which way's north without a compass? Even I'd vote for the cancer researcher. I just hope cancer isn't the result of being able to sense magnetic fields!

It's thought that people with iron storage disease are more likely to be able to sense magnetic fields. They have a problem where too much iron accumulates in their bodies. Iron storage disease was recently found to be under-diagnosed, by the way. Recent research indicates a lot of sufferers tend to "self medicate" by being regular blood donors, thus accidentally hiding their problem. Women are less likely because of the monthly loss of iron from the body, but no one's sure. There's not even any agreement on where the sense is located: perhaps it's in the form of tiny magnetic particles in the nose, or perhaps some otoliths in the vestibular organ can sense magnetism. It might not even be natural; could a small fragment of magnetic material embedded accidentally in the body act as an improvised sensor?

The first time I noticed I could sense location and orientation was traumatic. I had just gone to my first dentist appointment ever, so I must have been 4 or 5 years old. We sat in a waiting room for a while, and then went back into the dental room. I remember the whole experience as being fun, and I'd get a lollipop at the end. Let's ignore that little irony, shall we?

I went to leave the room…and the waiting room had rotated in space. It was the same waiting room, but it was now rotated about 90 degrees relative to the way it had been. I was terrified. I wouldn't leave the dental room. The waiting room was "wrong." That wasn't the room I'd waited in, and I didn't know what would happen if I'd enter this new room. As an adult, I think in terms of "Twilight Zone" stories where I wind up in a different universe. As a child, I might only have had a vague notion of that sort of thing from those very same Twilight Zone stories, but mostly the room was just "wrong" and I didn't want to go there. My Mom had to pick me up, kicking and screaming, to get me out of the office. Once outside, it didn't get any better. The world was wrong. My room was wrong. I never got that lollipop.

My best guess is that, somehow during the tooth cleaning, whatever it is that makes my magnetic sense work got vibrated and settled back in differently. As a child, one of the things our brains learn is to ignore contradictory data from our senses, and in fact to ignore great quantities of data that we don't need. Your brain deliberately dumbs down your sense of smell. Your brain has the ability to catch another person's microexpressions and use that to tell what they're thinking — and when they're lying, but your brain deliberately censors that knowledge.¹ So the change in the magnetic sense was far more traumatic because it was more obvious to me then.

Growing up, I'd have an odd habit of pointing in the direction of a location I was talking about, a city or street or just a direction in general. It bothered me when people would point toward something and it wasn't in the direction they were pointing. My parents finally banned me from saying "Actually, it's that way" to adults.

One day, in my late teens, I got to thinking about the human ability to sense magnetism. A study had just come out using helmets that induced magnetic fields around people's heads. Some were able to tell the change in the magnetic field, and which direction it had changed. I got to wondering: how would the brain know "north"? You need feedback. So I practiced with a compass. I'd walk for a while in a northern direction, thinking "north" and then "east" or "west" or "south." I tried various ways of practicing. Finally, on an overcast day, I took a compass, blindfolded myself, spun around a while, and then tried to point "north." I could manage within 30 degrees almost every time.

At first, it was just a party trick. I can tell you which way "north" is! To do this, I had to "do" something to my brain. I don't know what it is I "do," but I suspect it has something to do with disabling those data filters. The "doing" is difficult, and if carried on too long, began to cause a headache.

When driving, though, the use became obvious. If I had a vague idea of where something was, I could get there. If I'd ever been there before, it would feel familiar, and I could sense when I was getting more "familiar." When Nancy and I would go out on dates, she'd actually encourage me to use this to help us find our way, especially if we got lost. I'd rather ask for directions, but she thought it was cooler to have me "sense" our way. Maybe I should have told her about the headaches I got from this stunt. Lately, I've found that the OnStar in the car is a lot easier to use, and there's no headaches from it.

I learned quickly that certain things would make this sense go away. A couple days after donating blood, I'd get lost going to normal places. Apparently, whatever this sense is, I use it normally, and it's making the sense "conscious" that causes the headache. There was this nuclear magnetic resonance machine at college that I got to play with a couple days before our home meet in cross country. I actually got lost on the home course. Now, I do get stupid when running a hard 10K, but this was the home course we'd trained on repeatedly. Having one of the other team's coaches standing there pointing the wrong direction didn't help. Later, I'd discover that an advanced version of the NMR, the Magnetic Resonance Imaging medical device, would wipe out my magnetic sense for a couple months. Sometimes, being too close to electricity would screw me up, too.

Then, there's New Jersey. I've had the chance to test this sense in Germany, Brazil, California, Toronto, and St. Maarten, and it works fine all those places. On our honeymoon, we wandered around the Grand Canyon using my internal map. Looking back on that, I'm glad we didn't wind up lost and dead. My sense works, but it's not reliable enough to bet your life on. But there's something seriously wrong with New Jersey. I don't like New Jersey. I can't tell where north is or where I am in most of New Jersey. I always get lost there, and the Newark Bus Station was a complete nightmare, even with a map. The closer I get to the Pennsylvania border, the happier I am. Even more bizarre, if Nancy thinks you should turn left or right based on a hunch, she's always wrong — except in New Jersey. She can find her way around where I can't. I don't understand it; it's not logical. But it's true.

I got to wondering: What does a magnetic field feel like? I realized that I don't know. What does it feel like to know where my arm is? It just "is" where it is, it doesn't "feel" anything. I just know where my arm is. In the same way, I know what a place "feels" like. I know when it's familiar, I know when I've never been there before, and I know how certain I am that I know or don't know. But it doesn't "feel" like anything. It's an intuition.

As an intuition, I don't even know how much of it is by recognizing magnetic fields. If I am somehow disabling the filters that limit the data to my brain, what else am I picking up on? Does my mind keep track of the sun and time somewhere? Do I remember smells in some non-conscious part of my brain? How much is simply a map I've created in my brain? It can't all be sensing the magnetic field. Sometimes, when I can't tell where "north" is, I can still tell where to go.

I have no real idea how it works. My sense of direction works on an intuitive basis. It's easy to confuse; give me a false clue about a direction, and I'll follow the false clue. You do the same every time. You don't believe me? Try tasting a purple colored cherry lollipop sometime. Go to a place where a change in the ground has caused the trees to lean off-vertical. Tell someone you put chocolate in their coffee and watch them taste it.² Your brain ranks your senses, and it trusts your eyes over everything else. There's this cool trick where you can feel someone stick a needle into a rubber arm that your eyes think is your arm. That my ability to sense magnetic fields isn't ranked high is no surprise.

Finally, no, I can't win that big prize for proving that extra-sensory perception exists. The people running the prize are smart enough to know that some animals and even humans can sense magnetic fields by non-metaphysical means. Years ago, I checked to see if I qualified for the prize, and they wouldn't go for it.

Darn. I could use the cash.

1. Interestingly, police officers and FBI agents are worse than chance at telling when someone is lying. So much for "Angela's Eyes." [back]
2. Maybe that's why no one's been returning my calls or e-mails lately. They don't want to be experimented on. [back]

You have more than five senses. Everyone does, and you even know that. In the list of "sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell," where's the sense of balance? There are even more. Before I post some musings on an unusual extra sense, I thought I'd get you used to the idea by explaining more common ones.

Proprioception is the sense that tells you where the various parts of your body are. Kinaestesia tells you when parts of your body are moving, relative to other parts. These two senses have a complex neurological basis, with nerve endings in a variety of places. The result is, you can tell where you are.

Close your eyes. "Feel" where your arms are, your legs, and even your fingers. Describing "how" you feel where they are is another matter. They're just "there." If you lose that sense of "there," you may not even know you're missing it.

My medic unit was called for a patient. The patient's chief complaint was that her arms kept "wandering off." I don't know that I believed her at first, but as I interviewed her, her one arm (the right one — my partner was taking her blood pressure on the other arm) started floating. It wandered around, and I tried not to say anything. Her friend commented on the arm, and her attention turned back to her right arm. Immediately, as she watched it and focused on it, the arm came back under control. She asked me if she was possessed. I asked her if she took medications.

There's a whole class of drugs that can do this very thing to a person, called "neuroleptics" or "antipsychotics." If you're a first responder for more than 6 months, you get to know this reaction, whether it's the fellow with the spoon in his mouth complaining of the "tongue seizures" or the 400 lb. unkempt guy who does a very unsexy dance beyond his control. I wondered if she were taking one of these drugs, but she denied it.

I started wracking my brain trying to figure out what was wrong. Could a stroke do this? I'd wished I'd read more about a party drug that was "new" back then — MDMA. I was baffled. In the course of looking for some clue, I must have asked her four or five times if she'd taken any medications, and she said "no" every time. My partner asked her friends the same question as well. He was thinking the same direction I was.

I turned to my partner. There was one last trick up my sleeve. "We needed to prepare for emergency transport. I don't know what this is, but if it's not a reaction to Haldol, it could be some sort of BF [brain injury]."

"Oh, I took a Halcion a couple hours ago. I was feeling anxious, and took some of my friend's Halcion to calm down."

The trap worked. My first reaction was to question her intelligence, sanity, and honesty in a very nasty way, but I just kept my professional smirk. "Could I see the bottle?"

The friend got the bottle. It wasn't Halcion, it was Haldol. Similar name, big difference. Halcion is a benzodiazepine in the same ballpark as Valium. Haldol was one of those antipsychotics I was telling you about, one that's especially good at disrupting the proprioceptive and kinaestetic senses.

I showed it to my partner, and he got that "We are so good!" look yet again. "Ask the doc [our medical command physician] for Benadryl?" he asked, mostly out of formality.

"Yep," I replied. The patient would be fine if we just did a transport to the hospital and let them use the Benadryl. But our Benadryl was always near its expiration date, and if we used it on the patient, not only would she feel better sooner, but we'd get a fresh amp of Benadryl.

By the time we got to the hospital, the wandering arms were no longer wandering. They were back at the patient's side, signing insurance cards and other paperwork. We dropped the patient off at triage, along with her friends who were telling anyone and everyone that we were miracle workers. This particular E.R. hated us to begin with; having our own Greek chorus was like twisting the knife.

So, the next time you don't have to ask where your arms and legs and hands and head are, know that you are using a mysterious sense beyond the normal five!

Whooo! Spooky!

The FDA is about to approve cefquinome for use in cattle.  Cefquinome is a cephalawhatchamacallit — a cephalosporin-derived drug, used as one of the last resort drugs against multiply-resistant bacterial infections in humans. So what's the problem with that?

Go find a bit of dirt from your yard or a park. In that dirt, there's a biochemical war going on. Bacteria and fungi are attacking each other, throwing out chemicals designed to kill anything not of their kind. At the same time they're making these poisons, they're also making chemical defenses, both against the poison they make and the poisons everything else is making. If you look through enough dirt, you will find virtually any antibiotic or a close relative to a synthetic antibiotic. That's all antibiotics are — a form of chemical warfare that kills some forms of life, but not others. The ones we use in medicine kill bacteria faster than they kill humans. The better they are at killing bacteria and leaving them alone, the more powerful the antibiotic.

But that means that for any antibiotic known, somewhere out there a bacteria knows how to survive or thrive in its presence. Even if the antibiotic is synthetic, either it's based on a natural molecule or nature has come up with it first — and so there is a defense against it.

Evolutionists love to cite antibiotic resistance in the arguments with creationists. In fact, it is a form of evolution, but it's not the de novo evolution the evolutionists and creationists think it is. Some bacteria somewhere passed its antibiotic-defeating plasmid on to some bacteria someone was trying to kill with an antibiotic, and the chemical arms race continues. That plasmid might improve in effectiveness, or it might combine with other biochemical tricks to make it work better, but the basic DNA sequences necessary to get it to work have been around for a while.

Two things destroy an antibiotic's effectiveness. One, if the antibiotic is over-used, the antibiotic is more likely to encounter something that's partially or totally resistant to it.  Using cefquinome on cattle means "something bad" is going to happen. Even that wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the second thing that destroys an antibiotic's effectiveness — improper usage. You know the "Take all your medication unless ordered to stop by your doctor" label? That's so you don't quit taking the antibiotic when you feel better but you haven't killed off all the bacteria in your system yet. If you stop early, the bacteria that remain are better at defending against the antibiotic. They might have a vaguely effective plasmid to protect them or some other genetic trick that almost works. Stop early and those few bacteria become many, and when you try using that antibiotic on them again, more of them survive. Farm animals, it turns out, aren't good at following labels. The humans have to follow the labels for them, but giving all the antibiotic costs money. Farmers have been known to stop the antibiotic when the farm animals look better.

The FDA, following some business-friendly rules, has decided that the chance of burning out a last-resort antibiotic for humans is worth the risk.

I wonder what possible reason the government would have for allowing such a potentially risky product on the market? Sure, the pharmaceutical companies make a lot of money, and sure they contribute heavily to politicians. But the FDA wouldn't risk human health for a buck, would it?

Nancy got some Sudafed (with pseudoephedrine HCl, not the Sudafed SE with the phenylepherine HCl crap that doesn't work) at the pharmacy at our grocery store. I think the pharmacist thinks Nancy's a crystal meth manufacturer, now. She tried very hard to get Nancy to buy anything that didn't have pseudoephedrine in it. Now that you have to present a driver's license to get it and sign for it, apparently anyone using such a medication is considered "suspect." If Nancy tended toward embarrassment, the reactions of the people around her might have embarrassed her. That someone might even consider purchasing Claratin D was shocking!

I married a tough gal, and I'm glad. The DayQuil crap is worthless — it doesn't even have anything for sinus congestion. The Claratin helped a small amount, but to get this cold under control, I had to take the Sudafed. Sudafed makes a great sleep aid as well, so I've spent a lot of today dozing. I put my head in Nancy's lap and went off to dreamland while Nancy watched a South Park marathon on the DVD recorder.

Why do I have this strange urge to invade Canada in a flying saucer with Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith?

Anyway, I feel better now than I have in a week. At some point during the afternoon snooze, I think I had an image or two of DEA agents with Meth Mouth arresting me for trying to buy a decongestant.
I just wonder if I ought to start working out the synthesis of pseudoephedrine HCl from Crystal Meth. Eventually, you'll be able to buy the Crystal Meth, but not Sudafed. If I'm going to live, I think I might need to work out how to make Sudafed from easily available materials.

I sure hope I'm kidding.

As payback for talking to the press about the deplorable conditions at Walter Reed Army Hospital, the veterans being treeted there are being subjected to 7 a.m. inspections and are ordered to not talk to the press. I was willing to argue for the intelligence of the Bugblatter Beast of Traal, but I can't come up with anything remotely believable to excuse the person who issued those orders.

Don't think that the top officials didn't know: underlings warned and begged them to do something about the condition our Iraqi veterans were being subjected to, but even the Army Surgeon General did nothing.

Not only is our government willing to torture captured terrorists, but apparently they're quite happy torturing our own soldiers, not to get information to save lives, but to avoid having to do their jobs and to save money.

The only word I can think of to describe the abuse of these American soldiers is "treason." How is treason in the line of duty treated during wartime?

According to MSNBC's Scoop, John Travolta says Scientology could have helped Anna Nicole Smith:

The “Pulp Fiction” star says that if the late pin-up could have been saved if she had undergone treatment of Narconon, a controversial drug and detox treatment inspired by the writings of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard.  Smith and Travolta appeared together in the movie “Be Cool.”

I'm sure the family of Lisa McPherson would disagree. L. Ron Hubbard was a hack science fiction writer, excellent fantasy writer (for which even the religion he created won't give him credit), but had no medical training. L. Ron Hubbard's death is strangely reminiscent of Anna Nicole Smith's.

This is not to say the medical profession may have done it's best to help her. The possibility that Smith may have been suffering from lupus (a condition that might have been greatly aggrevated by her recent pregnancy) has been raised.

To explain to the news media and public what lupus is and what it's effects are, the Lupus Foundation has made a Lupus Fact Sheet available.

For Black History Month, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette has a wonderful article, Freedom House ambulance service saved the day for many. Thanks to Ervin Dyer for an article that reminds us of the debt we owe those pioneers of prehospital care.

I've met almost everyone named in the article. I worked beside some of them, met others briefly or at dinners honoring them. I own books by two of them, well-worn grimoires of life-saving lore that I memorized. I've heard the stories and legends of the people of Freedom House, often first-hand accounts of those dawning days of the emergency medical services.

There's a brief line in the article I'd like to call your attention to:

Some of the Freedom House paramedics continue to work in public safety or health services. Other drifted back to the streets.

There is carefully phrased tragedy in those words. Heroes — each and one a lifesaver multiple times over — had stories that did not continue as they should have. How much was due to the emotional toll of being the first emergency medical technicians and paramedics, I can only speculate on. There's a loss in that sentence that haunts those of us who knew those men.

To those people of Freedom House who made prehospital care a national reality, I extend my heartfelt thanks and prayers.

Joshua Hanson isn't sure why he took off down the hall running. Any experienced paramedic will tell you "It seemed like a good idea at the time," and yes, alcohol was involved. Mr. Hanson thinks he was confused by the reflection in the window, much like a parakeet.¹ His 275 lbs. carried him through the double-pane safety glass and restraining bar, giving him 16 floors of free fall (drag not included) until he hit the overhang. The overhang gave, which is why Mr. Hanson only had a broken leg, "…two collapsed lungs and [a] torn trachea…."

Joshua Hanson survived, and believe me, the paramedics and firefighters that extricated him from the overhang and got him to the hospital had a lot to do with that, as did the trauma center he was taken to. He's back to work part time, and his daughter is glad to still have her daddy.

That's amazing. What's more amazing is this:

The fall has made him more contemplative and given him a fresh perspective, he said, though he didn't know whether it would cause him to drink less.

I'm hoping that Mr. Hanson is still recovering from the psychological effects of this event and, once he has time to consider how close he came to dying, he might decide that either moderating or eliminating his alcohol consumption would be wise.

I've seen people survive horrendous trauma. The thing is, I can't remember anyone who managed it twice, just a lot of people who didn't.

Then again, if he's going to plunge 160 feet and hit something at somewhere between 50 and 70 miles per hour, being drunk might well be a good idea:

In 1963, Richard G. Snyder wrote one of the major studies on long falls. In the paper, "Human Survivability of Extreme Impacts in Free-Fall," Snyder noted that falling victims who were intoxicated had a "disproportionate survival rate" in such falls.

Of course, if being drunk is what makes you take the plunge in the first place, is it really that much of a help?

1. Whether this constitutes a benchmark of Mr. Hanson's intellectual functioning while intoxicated, I am not qualified to say. I just have my suspicions. [back]

The Pittsburgh Post Gazette started off a good Sunday article with the description of a cartoon:

As it turns out, the cartoon is scientifically incorrect. Dyslexia has startlingly different roots. Check out the PG article!

One of our local stores made February 21st "Diabetes Day." World Diabetes Day is in November, but as I drove past the sign, I couldn't help but wonder what "Talk Like a Diabetic Day" would be like.

What if there were a "Talk Like a Diabetic Day"? Here are some examples of things I've said as the result of being a diabetic:

• I'm sorry, but I can't eat that. It's too high in carbohydrates.
• I need to check my blood glucose level with my glucometer again.
• No, I'm allowed sugar. I just have to limit my total carbohydrates, of which sugar is one kind. Yes, I'm sure. I'm a biochemist. Really. And hydrocarbons aren't the same thing as carbohydrates.
• Has anyone seen my glucometer?
• My doctor says I need to [exercise, lose weight, watch my cholesterol, watch my diet, not walk barefoot, get my eyes checked, lower my HbA1C, go to the dentist more often].
• Don't tell me I lost yet another glucometer!
• Sure. Make the diabetic serve the donuts at church. Gee, thanks.
• That's the second third glucometer I've run over with the car. The doctor's not going to believe me.
• I don't care what the spam e-mail said, that "herbal product the doctors don't want me to know about" will not cure diabetes. I don't have to try it to know it's a scam.
• The insurance isn't going to pay for another glucometer, is it?
• You shouldn't have taken and eaten my entire box of chocolates sweatened with sugar alcohols. Some crimes are self-punishing, as you'll find out in about an hour. Sucks to be you.
• Well, as long as I'm going to have to buy it myself, I'm getting the combination cell phone/ PDA/ digital camera/ MP3 player/ GPS unit/ glucometer.
• Diabetics are prone to [heart disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, obesity, depression, peridontal disease, blindness, peripheral nerve damage, amputations, sexual dysfunction]
• What do you mean they don't have a combination cell phone/ PDA/ digital camera/ MP3 player/ GPS unit/ glucometer yet?
• I told you Turk on "Scrubs" had Type II diabetes. If a woman on TV vomits, she's pregnant. If someone drinks too much water, they have diabetes.
• I'm going to patent the combination cell phone/ PDA/ digital camera/ MP3 player/ GPS unit/ glucometer.
• Is this diet or regular? You realize I'm trusting my health to someone who can only get a job at a fast food joint?
• I had to settle for the glucometer that can connect to the computer, and it cost $100.
• Being a diabetic sucks big time.

1. What Jack Bauer sounds like on "Talk Like a Pirate Day." [back]