The Most Infectious Agent of All

Catch on fire with enthusiasm and people will come for miles to watch you burn. ~ John Wesley

One fine day in Microbiology lab the students lined up to get their agar plates dosed with various infectious agents such as Staphylococcus areus, E. coli, etc.

An inoculation station was set up at one side of the room across one long table -- one swabber for each of the four types of bacteria to be cultured. A student would approach, agar plate in hand, and said Swabber would dip into the bacterial-laden broth and rub a bit on the appointed sector. The student would then step over to the next bacteria station and get swabbed with that particular bacteria and so on until all had been visited. This was repeated for six plates for each of about ten groups. So, that's an awful lot of swabbing.

Perhaps not so noticeable during all this swab, swab, swabbing was that another contagion was being spread as well. It didn't come from a culture of dangerous, flesh eating or gut rotting bacteria. It wasn't being sneezed out as a virus or anything like that. This contagion was being spread via a very innocuous manner not likely to alert the hapless host to its super virulent nature. Very simply put, one of the swabbers was making little gram-positive smiley faces on the agars. Now this may seem like a thing of very little significance, but not for those who were being systematically polluted by this act of enthusiasm. Upon receiving his or her plate back, each person showed immediate signs of having been infected as they were soon struck with strange fits of... ack!... smiling. Yes, the simple and effortless application of a smiley says: "hey, this if fun, this is interesting! Microbiology rocks!"

(It was supposed to be a smiley anyway)

The most infectious agent, it turns out, is enthusiasm. It can strike suddenly and with a virulence unmatched by any bacteria or virus. Enthusiasm is what makes teachers extraordinary and students successful.

The Greeks used the term to describe someone intoxicated by the divine inspiration of the gods. (yes, I looked it up!) Art, poetry, philosophy, all these things were the result of this divine possession. Of course, today it just indicates a devotion to or fascination of a particular topic or ideal. But I prefer the former meaning that presumes the enthusiastic person is in possession of some sort of "essence" that can move between individuals, if allowed, and is ever replenishable.

Now, sadly, some people seem to display immunity. Indeed, in any particular population, there will be a certain percentage of people who are immune to the effects of enthusiasm. They can't even be asymptomatic carriers. Not. One. Bit. We all know someone we suspect of having this condition, right? It's really too bad they can't know the happiness within brought about by, say, holding a really large model of a heart.

(Enthusiasm. Get infected today.)

Now, it's true that some people with an abundance of enthusiasm often get mislabelled (to put it kindly). It's the risk one takes when revealing any part of their true self. And it's a risk that, in my opinion, is always worth it in the end. After all, as Ralph Waldo Emerson knows, "nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm."

How to not make friends with Carpenter Bees

I was perfectly set up at my kitchen table: The laptop was hooked to a larger external monitor so I could see my virtual cadavers on the big screen. All my books, notes and paper were spread before me in a semi-circle. I'd been studying well into the morning by now. Leaning back in the chair, stretching and yawning, I looked out the open doors to the back deck and nearly fell over. It was swarming with bees.

Well, on a sunshiny spring day such as this, this seemed a great thing. The plum and apple trees were in full glorious bloom with their limbs now above the level of the deck giving me a distinct feeling of being in the treetops. The honeysuckle growing up the fence was sending it's fragrance over on the morning breeze. It all seemed so... spring-full!

But then I noticed these were no ordinary bumblebees. Nay, these bees, friendly as they may have seemed, were of the carpenter variety. And they were moving in.

Now, you may ask "are you sure it's a carpenter?" Well, it's a good question. They may not, afterall, be carrying their union card. And you may not catch them with a mouthful of sawdust. So let me point out some distinctive features of these fine craftsbugs.

Carpenter bees do look just like bumblebees in size and shape. But carpenters have a smooth, black, glossy abdomen whereas bumblebees have black abdomens covered in yellow hairs.

Below is a Bumblebee. It is soft and cuddly looking, right? Fuzzy, striped.

And here you have its crafty cousin. This bee has a smooth, hairless rear, and, more importantly, it's sawing its way through my deck!!!

Look at this one hanging on -- come on, you know it's cool!

So, the good news is, the males don't have stingers at all. The bad news is, only the females dig these holes, so they're the only ones you'll likely ever have to deal with. But, the other good news is, they rarely use their stinger. In fact, you can handle these if you're careful and so inclined to do so.

However, as much as some of us would like to keep these around as pollinators (and heck, just for company) they have the unfortunate habit of chewing through wood. So I set out to discourage this -- and poison-free as well. I've read that you can simply plug up the hole with some wood putty. But I found this didn't deter them for a second. They just started chewing right back through it, possibly rather annoyed that they came back after lunch break to find their new sugarshack had just been stuffed with crap.

Still not wanting to coat the place with poison, I experimented with different glues (some of which were probably poisonous to something, yeah). Nope. They just regarded it as a minor setback and went back to work excavating. In the end, I went out there with a heated glue gun and filled the holes. I was surprised at how much I had to pump in before it started overflowing. I was also surprised to see this did not stop one very determined bee from getting itself half-stuck in glue.

(R.I.P, pretty Bee)

So I stood there a while, right arm across my waist, left arm bent up and making a fist upon which I could prop my befuddled head. And I thunk it over.

And here, folks, is the result of all that thinkerating:

I started sticking some spare pegs into the holes. They were a perfect fit! Wood screw hole covers would have worked just fine but this is what I had on hand.

So, a bit of glue, in went the peg and voila! They can't get in now! I placed eight of these in this way and watched to see what the little ladies would do about it. Sure enough, they could not get back in. Now, twice they started new holes and those got pegged as well. Finally, I was sure they had given up. Until I saw this:

Now, you've got to admire that tenacity! Not wanting to let all that hard work go to waste, she is attempting to gain entrance to her gallery from the side. She'd have done it, too, if I hadn't run her off. Sorry, sister.

So there you have it. A short visit from some friends that I unfortunately had to turn away. I closed up their properties and posted tiny little "Condemned" signs on them. But I suspect the were very soon happily chewing through someone else's deck.

Check back again soon as I'll be telling all about this beautiful lady and the conversation we had about our children:

Synesthesia

___________________________

Blended Senses

___________________________

December 2000

“I have a headache,” I tell her. She is walking away now and I’m trying to open my eyes. Why are we outside? The sun is in my eyes, damn it... drenching everything in red-orange blur. All I can make out are the silhouettes of people standing around me. Oh, here she comes. “No. Now. Something now” I say. I can’t wait for pills to work. The silhouettes start getting jittery. Some have their arms folded across their chests, others are gesturing wildly. One is coming closer.
“Do you know me?”
Of course I know him… the doctor with the red-orange hair. Wow, his sweater matches his hair. Nice, I try to say, makes you look heavenly...

_______________________

I am told I spent the next few days in ICU in a coma-like state. I finally woke up, still in pain. I had been transferred to the Red Room. The walls were a deep burgundy and the nurses wore head-to-toe maroon complete with matching face masks. I was confused. In Star Trek, they only don the reds for surgery. Had I been in surgery?

Actually, I was in quarantine until they figured out what sort of meningitis I had. All I remember is that everything was so red.

Months later, I was telling someone what I remembered from the Red Room.
“What red room?” he asked.
It was only after lots of arguing and phone calls that I finally conceded that room may not have been red after all. As it turned out, neither the first sunshiny room nor the doctor had been red-orange and the Red Room was actually white. So why did I see them in these colors? Had I gone crazy?

__________________

I wasn’t really surprised. This was not the first time I’ve seen things differently than some people. Actually, one researcher says that as many as 1 in 23 people may have some form of synesthesia. Like me, these people may experience any variety of combined sensory perceptions. The most common form is colored letters and numbers in which a person involuntarily perceives letters and numbers (and other graphemes) to have color. For instance, where you see this letter "A" as being black, a color synesthete will see it overlaid with a different color. One synesthete might see it as orange, another might see it as blue. For synesthetes, this perception is very real to them, just as the black letters you are reading now are very real to you.

Other forms of synesthesia include having the perceptions of color (and/or shapes or texture) through hearing, touching or tasting. For example, when Sean Day, a colored-hearing synesthete, hears music he will perceive various colors in his visual field.

Another interesting form is lexical-gustatory*, a type of synesthesia in which words evoke taste in the mouth. Just like with most forms of synesthesia, people with this condition have in the past been dismissed as attention-seeking or hallucinating. As one of synesthesia's ambassadors to the world, James Wannerton has subjected himself to countless hours of research and brain scans (and film crews) to educate both academia and the general public. People don't "suffer" from synesthesia and it isn't a disorder. It is simply the way some people perceive the world.

There are about 5 common types but in all there have been reported about 61 subtypes of synesthesia. Here are a few examples from a list compiled by Sean Day:

• General Sounds --> Colors
• Phenomes --> Colors
• Tastes --> Colors
• Personalities --> Colors
• Grapheme Personification
• Object Personification
• Emotion --> Flavor
• Smells --> Sound
• Pain --> Sound
• Sound --> Flavor

When I was in pain and percieving everything around me to be drenched in color, I was experiencing "Pain --> Color" synesthesia. But it is not the only type I have.

______________________

I first realized there was something different when I was about six years old. From the backseat of the family car, I was complaining about how it was difficult to keep up with days sometimes because once you got to Wednesday everything flipped around the other way. In my mind, Monday starts out with Tuesday to its right, and with Wednesday to its right. But once we're in Wednesday, the whole line flips around and now Wednesday presents with Thursday to its left, and Friday to its left, and so on. It's actually more complicated than that, but that's the easiest way to describe it.

(Above: Monday, dissipating, Tuesday and Wednesday follow)

My dad thought this was intriguing and asked me questions about how I thought of clock time. I remember him saying something like "wow, she has such a fascinating concept of time and space abstracts" which I remember to this day because it sounded so Carl Sagan-ey. (One of my favorite memories was sitting with Dad watching Cosmos on PBS)

My mom's response was equally memorable: "I think she may be retarded."

(Yes, that's the word she used. I mention that because, like so many others who have had their perceptions questioned, it embarrassed me -- I immediately shut up and never mentioned it to her again. )

But the difficulties I was describing were not limited to days of the week. I have this same trouble with numbers. 1 starts out with the rest of the line going off to its right, but occasionally when I get to a certain number, the view flips, turns, tilts, and so on. Many times, positive numbers continue off to the left, or straight up, or back to the right. As you might imagine, this complicates learning mathematics just a bit.

But the biggest problem I have with doing figures is that not all my numbers get along with each other. Almost all the numbers detest 2's bitchy disposition, while 9's Spock-like steadiness can mediate any situation. Certain numbers just don't like having to stand next to others, and will fidget just like first graders being asked to stand in line and wait -- eventually, they wander off.

This assignment of personality and gender to letters and numbers is called Ordinal Linguistic Personification, in which ordered sequences, such as ordinal numbers, days, months and letters are associated with personalities. Similarly, with object personification, everything that can be perceived gets involuntarily attached to it some sort of personification. It may be a gender and personality or it may get attached to it a color that represents that. Numbers, letters, months, grass, trees, furniture, clothes, books, even people. Even my own body parts have this sort of personification -- I recall as a small kid acting out "plays" in the bathtub with my fingers and toes, as each was (and still is) a different character.

My synesthesia actually isn't as pervasive as it might sound. I've always had it, so I don't know any other way. It does sometimes dictate my emotions and decisions however. I develop almost obsessive fondness for some people because I like their color -- I just want to be around them all the time! Conversely, I regret to say I may not like some individuals based purely on the same thing. Recently, I entered a room that had all orange (yuck!) desk chairs and I desperately wished I could turn around and run!

Most synesthetes have remarkable memories, as this gift functions as a natural mnemonic. Unfortunately in some cases this isn't so for me, especially when having to learn new concepts. If the thing or concept has no existing "relative" it takes me while to figure it all out. But typically, because of these strong emotional/personification and in particular the color associations, synesthetes have remarkable memory. I don't know why I don't -- maybe all those drugs I did in the 60s? (Relax, I wasn't actually alive in the 60's)

Which brings me to another point: synesthesia is not the result of psychedelic drug use. It is constant, involuntary, and has been a part of the individual since they can remember.

It also tends to run in families, so researchers across the globe are trying to tease out the gene responsible. Hopefully, through this type of research we will learn what gives some individuals these unique perceptions and, as with any research, learn more about the mysteries of the human brain as well.

___________________________

*Gustation involves activation of cranial nerves to process sensory input from the tongue in the form of sweet, salty, bitter, etc. But this only plays a small part in the perception of flavor. Flavor is the integration of gustation and olfaction and somatosensation.

Flavor synesthesia does not involve the same neural pathways. In other words, when James Wannerton hears the word "London," the mashed potato taste he experiences occurs in the absence of molecules that trigger olfaction, and without the activation of the sensory portions of the cranial nerves typically associated with gustation.

___________________________

More about synesthesia:

Sean Day and David Eagleman:

• David Eagleman's Synesthesia Battery

Richard Cytowic on Synesthesia:

Mother's Day and The Defenestration of Folk Music

(Mom... young, as I remember her)

The following are excerpts from something I wrote in 2005, seven months before Mom passed away. (These are only highlights, the whole thing was excruciatingly long)

_______________

On rainy or boring days, or just anytime Mom got tired of me, she would send me to my room with an armful of her albums. Yes, I mean the round, black, vinyl kind, believe it or not. Carly Simon, Joni Mitchell, Phoebe Snow and others - they were my surrogate mothers.

...

When Mom was mad at Dad, or one of us kids, or just life, she would put on some Carly Simon (or the like) and ramp up the volume. For the next 4-5 minutes we were all her quiet, trembling captives while a husky female voice belted out despair and anguish on Mom’s behalf. This was her method for expressing all sorts of feelings and ideas. Yes, music was her medium.

...

When she loaded me up with an armful of albums she wasn’t just giving me something to do, she was giving me her toolbox, her art supplies you could say. I'd be alone for hours in my pale yellow room, lying on the floor with my feet propped up against the wall. I'd stare at the ceiling or into nothing at all while the smooth voices and mellow harmonies carried me far away from Mom's bi-polar hell. It was my favorite place to be, and a few years ago when I was instructed to find a "peaceful place" to ease birthing pains, I thought about lying there in my yellow room on my back with my hands behind my head and my feet in the air, keeping beat with my feet to Joni Mitchell's guitar strums.

...

My mom had moods that could shift faster than Alabama weather. And any trigger would do. And sometimes there seemed to be none at all, like the day I watched my record player sail out my second-story window, followed by Joni Mitchell, then Linda Ronstadt, then Phoebe Snow. After she left I looked out to see glass and plastic and machine parts all over the driveway. The defenestration of folk music. But if her fleeting intention was to take away the music, she was too late. It was mine. It was in me, woven around my heart like the very vessels that supply it life.

...

I only recently came to understand that all the insults I bore and all the projectiles I avoided and all the ear-bursting music and screaming really had nothing to do with me. She didn’t hate me. She hated her illness. I think she would rage until her energy was spent, only to discover she still had more blazing anger inside, with no way to let it out or to be consoled. And when Carly Simon or Joni Mitchell could neither say it for her, nor give her solace, her frustration turned into everyone's catastrophe.

…

When I sit alone in the quiet and think about those times, I don't see a mother expressing disdain for her child, but a woman who fiercely wished she could be more. And it is only then, that after 30 years of not really knowing this person as a mother, I can understand this person as a woman. To quote her beloved Joni Mitchell: “every picture has its shadows, and it has some source of light.” Without a good portion of each we have no depth.

...

It has not been perfect, and it has not been ideal, but it’s my life. It is made up of beautiful song writers, and beautiful song lovers. I know my mom loved me because she gave me music. And I can give it back to her when I sit by her bedside and sing to her. She stares at the ceiling or into nothing at all while my voice carries her far away from bedridden hell. Maybe deep down *she* is still in there, dancing and humming along and knowing that this tune is my way of saying, “thanks Mom, I love you too.”

_________________________

Charlotte's Heart

Some of you have asked about Charlotte's surgery.
She had open heart surgery when she was three months old to correct Tetralogy of Fallot. A slideshow of that is at the bottom of this blog. _________________

TOF happens to 5 out of every 10,000 babies. Heart defects of any sort are fairly common in individuals with Down syndrome, like Charlotte.

It is four (tetra means four) related defects:


1) Pulmonary artery stenosis: the artery taking blood to the lungs to go fetch more oxygen is narrow and thus...
2) Hypertrophy of the right ventricle: the right ventricle wall gets thicker because it has to work harder to get the blood through the narrowed pulmonary artery.
3) VSD- ventricular septal defect: a hole in the septum (the wall) between the two ventricles and thus...
4) Overriding aorta: because the ventral septum is faulty, the aorta kind of fumbles over it. All this allows oxygen-poor blood to leak through and get mixed with oxygenated blood. Leaning the mixture, so to speak.
_____________

Charlotte was considered a "pink Tet" baby as opposed to a "blue Tet" because her defects were such that she still got enough oxygenated blood to keep her "pink." Even still, during one clinic visit, the cardiologist decided it was time to get her fixed up. So, about a week later we found ourselves at UAB awaiting the famous Dr. James Kirklin, son of the famous Dr. John Kirklin of Kirklin Clinic fame, to perform her surgery. I have to insert here that I have the greatest respect for this man and will forever be grateful for the kindness he showed me. He mended Charlotte beautifully and although she bears a scar, it is minimal compared to others I have seen.

It was also discovered during surgery that she had a PDA -- patent ductus arteriosus. The blood vessel between the aorta and the pulmonary artery usually closes shortly after birth... unless it doesn't and then it's called patent (open). About 3000 babies in the US are born each year with a PDA. It can close later on its own, or may require surgical repair. Charlotte's leaks so very little now that we're not going to worry anymore.


As a result of having to fiddle with such a small organ, Charlotte now has AV heart block. Her two sinus nodes that tell the heart when to do its pumping are not in agreement, so the result is a lower overall heart rate. I am told that this sort of iatrogenic heart block generally is not a huge concern (??), though she will eventually require a pacemaker, but that's down the road yet.





For now, she's happy and healthy and growing more beautiful each day.

CHARLOTTE'S TICKER

Charlotte and I braved the humid Alabama weather to get her periodic pump check.

First she got radiated and electrographerated.

Had some play time with her friend Kianna.

... and later, a familiar face showed up!

Doctor Colvin listened...

...and looked


...and then it was off to get hooked to the Holter.

And then she's done for another year!

(and you know this one can't miss a photo op)

The Holter monitor records heart activity while she's wearing it. After 24 hours, we take it off and send it in to be analyzed. To help the analyzer, we keep a log of her activities that could explain any unusual readings.
____________

Charlotte's log read something like this:

10:45 - start monitor

11:00-11:15 - nap

12ish-12:30 - lunch

1:20- 2:00 - climbing/falling/climbing/falling/climbing/falling...etc.

2:30 - heard beeping sound, found she had unpacked monitor and was pushing buttons, hope that doesn't matter

2:30 - accidentally scared the crap out of her when I discovered her doing this

2:45- napping bouncing on bed

2:50 - crying

2:55 - ticked off

3:00 - really pissed

3:10-4:10 nap

____________

Anyway, it was a good visit with nothing but good news. The PDA is all but closed and not something we're going to even think about anymore. She will not need pacing at all for the following year and maybe not even for two or three more. She's strong and healthy!

Pigotry?

Malkin scapegoats immigrants for flu spreadApril 28: Michelle Malkin claims that the spread of contagious disease is a result of "uncontrolled immigration." Is the Republican echo chamber stirring the American melting pot with its classic recipe of hate and fear? Margaret Carlson of Bloomberg News joins "Countdown."

Video.

I don't even have anything to add. It's just... sad.

Something to ponder

THE REQUEST
I begrudgingly agreed to take a particular personality assessment for, er, "research purposes." Now, I give as much credence to some personality assessments as I do Facebook quizzes that tell you which eukaryotic organelle you are. I am a ribosome, by the way. I get along well with the endoplasmic reticulum. Anyway, my point is that the information from these assessments doesn’t usually tell you anything you didn't already know but can be a fun something to do. But, ok, I will concede some actually do have merit and practical applications. I kind of have to say this. Afterall...

THE BACKGROUND
Years ago I was certificated as a Human Behavior Consultant by a company out of Atlanta using the DISC model . (I never utilized it in the way it was intended which was to conduct seminars in school and office settings) This model is basically the same as the others that are the more developed form of the Hippocrates' humoral theory.
What? You didn't really think I'd leave out a history lesson, did you?

THE HISTORY

Ancient Greek popular belief was that there are four basic substances within us: yellow bile, black bile, blood and phlegm, and that having this one or that out of balance could make you choleric, melancholic, sanguine, or phlegmatic. Ok, actually they presumed having one out of balance would make you sick, but they applied it to temperament as well. Hippocrates gets credit for starting this nasty rumour (even though he may have only been perpetuating it) which actually persisted (along with other "medical" gems like bloodletting) up until the establishment of scientific medicine in the late 19th/early 20th century. But there's a topic for another day.

In India, ayurvedic tradition tells that there are basic elements to life that can be grouped into three "substances." When one of the three substances is dominate you have a body type and it is believed that this dosha dictates your temperament. It is also important to note that like many cultures, the ayurvedic teaches that life is the manifestation of the spiritual. Similarly, Christian writers posit there is a higher connection as well. If you want to transform your temperament, some say, you need only to appeal to the heavens. And only then will you find your true purpose, so they say.

So the point of all this humors/elements, mind/body, personality/temperament stuff is to help us get into healthy balance so we can better understand ourselves and each other, and in the end, all just get along, right?

THE RESULT
So, I did it. And by the way, I have no intention of telling anyone what my cutesie letter combination turned out to be. This information in the wrong hands... right? heh heh. Anyway, there's something creepy about being able to plug variables into an formula that then pops out a completely intrusive report that reads like field notes from someone that's just spent the last year shadowing me. It invalidates my uniqueness! ~gasp!~ It countermands my perception of individuality! What happened to experience being the fire that forges? Mr. "Researcher" explained to me that "this can be significant but not as much as we used to think" though he has thus far refused to point me to such research to support this. I mean, come on, it's not that simple, is it, Mr. Researcher? Methinks Mr. Researcher didn't think this answer through.

THE CONFUSION
On the surface, it would seem this assessment reduces me to a predictable system of algorithms. At the very worst, it points out in tortuous detail what I have the potential to be, were it not for my miserable, inherent flaws that prevent it. But now someone also wants to tell me I would have ended up this way even without all those "character building" experiences? If it were true loads of cognitive psychologists would be out of a job, right. If the last decade had little to do with who I innately am (in which case, I want a life refund!), then by that logic the future offers little hope for change as well. That's awfully dismal! And highly illogical, Captain. Continuously shaping yourself is life's most worthy endeavor, afterall.

AND SO?
My temperament may try to dictate what choice I make, but in turn the decision can hone my temperament. I may have an inherent disposition to be this way or that, but all along the way I have choices as to how much I will allow it to dominate me. And the choices I've made thus far haven't all been for nothing. Otherwise, everything I am is just the result of one of sixteen ways the dice might have landed. Then again, maybe this grumpiness I had attributed to not getting enough sleep really has to do with having too much black bile, or yellow bile, or blood. Time to get out the leeches, maybe?

THE CONCLUSION
Hmm. Ponder this more, I must.

Pandemic?

The media would have us all trembling in fear of the "pandemic of the century." This guy says don't sweat it, but don't pet it either. And especially don't make out with it.

Dr. Rick Kilgore, a drug developer and researcher in Birmingham and general aviation pilot, has agreed to let me post the email in which he replies to the concern that the flu may have an impact on Civil Air Patrol operations:

I am currently in NYC at a Infectious Disease Meeting. I am one of those responsibile for the development and testing of many of the current vaccines that Sanofi-Pasteur Pharmaceuticals makes through clinical trials. We are here meeting on the development of H5N1 (avian or bird flu) that we will be testing this summer. But we have discussed the H1N1 flu that is currently showing signs of illness in Mexico and a few individuals who recently vacationed in Mexico or were there on business. There are plans to add to the influenza vaccine in the Fall possibly as a tetervalent vaccine rather than a trivalent vaccine. There will be nothing done in the interim since this H1N1 flu is treatable by either a standard dose of either Tamiflu or Relenza. If identified family members or coworkers or those suspected of exposure can receive prophylatic treatment with the same two drugs (just longer treatment period).

The suggestion for not coming to an area if you show signs of a respiratory illness is good and always recommended. I suggest that the more common suggestions be followed if a large group of individuals are working together and that includes the use of soap and water and/or hand sanitizers. The number one prevention of the spread of any respiratory illness is keeping your hands out of your nose, mouth or eyes.

There will be no vaccine available from any pharma company until the Fall. Treatment with antivirals is available. But wash, wash and wash the hands and limit handshaking, etc. will go a long way in stopping the spread. Remind groups to practice good hygene when working in groups. Symptoms are mild in this H1N1 from what the CRC is notifying us but does include headaches, sore throat, coughing and of course fever. It does appear that small children are experiencing nausea and vomiting, something that is not normally seen in the flu. So if members have children at home who are sick, even if they do not have symptoms, they also probably would do everyone a favor if they also stayed away from groups of follks.

Just some additional information for your use.

Rick Kilgore

He also tells me that "hopefully we are going to see a decrease in the number of flu cases as we move toward the end of the flu season" but also goes on to say that it's also possible we may see a more virulent form of the H1N1 by Fall of this year and that of course everyone is working tirelessly to have a vaccine ready.

*Rick's is one of 15 sites in the US who are going to be testing in humans the swine flu vaccine this summer to be used this Fall. He was previously awarded the contract to test the bird flu vaccine later this year. When I asked for an update he said trials start July.

*Update: trials start Aug. and I am fortunate enough to be included! Woo! I believe in the science, the process and the vaccine and I don't care who knows.

Estar bien and gesunheit.

Westman Parent Magazine May Issue

http://westmanparent.weebly.com/current-issue.html

So. I'm published. For whatever it's worth. May's issue is online finally. Have a look please!

Scroll down to the pdf file for the May ed. then marvel at how I managed to find something nice to say about my mother, and in less than 700 words.

( photo: JH '07)

Someone buy this from me, please.

The car, not the boy.

(photo: JH '09)

Innovation, Controversy and Intrigue... for the low, low price of only $29.99!

If this comes even close to your area or even your region of the country I urge, nay, implore you to go see it. Well worth the clams.

I first heard of the Body exhibition from a friend who saw it when it first opened in Tampa. He brought back a pink spray-painted brain and policy-defiant photos which he used to make me fiercely jealous. And that was even before I knew what this exhibition was all about. So, what is it all about?

"BODIES... The Exhibition" aims to educate the what has previously been unavailable to the general public: an unprecedented look through astounding (and some might say blatant) detail of the inner nature of the human body. It aims to answer the question "what are we?" What I hoped to get out of it was more than an anatomy lesson, but to maybe gain some insight into the more illusive human nature -- that is "who are we?"

In my opinion, you can’t properly appreciate this exhibit without acknowledging the history that preceded it. As far back as there is record, there has been an interest in the inner workings of the body. The Egyptians, the Greeks, and all the great civilizations that followed had amazing knowledge of body components even if they sometimes missed the mark as to function. We all know that European history of anatomy has meandered through occasional prohibition and allowance. It is shaped by ecclesiastical polity, controversy, intrigue and innovation. The Christian ideals that hindered the advancement of medical knowledge in some respects actually facilitated the same. Since the body that was left behind wasn’t quite so sacred anymore then autopsies and dissections were on… but only on those people who didn’t matter much, so to speak. In other words, convicted criminals. Thus was the contradiction of religion and society and thus became Britain’s Murder Act of 1752 and a similar act that followed allowing a destitute population to be tapped for research purposes. But that was centuries ago. We’ve all new standards now, right?

Rumors abound that no “decent” people were harmed in the making of “BODIES.” A relief to some? Actually, the possibility the bodies used (sans owner consent) are those of executed murderers is one of the primary reasons for opposition to this exhibition. After all, the Murder Act of 1752 has been superseded many times over. But what’s really the issue? Human rights? Legal issues? Western opposition to China’s shady ways? My own father resisted strong interest to see this exhibit for fear his attendance would somehow condone Chinese torture practices. Really? I mean, if you’re going to object to anything, object to the ostentatious overuse of basketballs which is clearly a transparent way to put an egotistical American stamp on the project. By the way, after I’m dead, feel free to do what you want with my parts as I am fairly certain I won’t require them any longer but please don’t involve sports paraphernalia.

Basketballs and international intrigue aside, I have to say the most curious part of this exhibition was not an exhibit at all. It was the sign placed before the fetal exhibit room warning visitors that they may find the subject matter within disturbing. I found this really intriguing. Is it for those guests whose Victorian sensibilities haven’t already been assaulted by the flayed abdominal cavities and de-mystified sexual organs? Why do the adult bodies invite inspection and awe while the fetus, from whence all these magnificent structures develop, remains too sacred to view? As it turns out, no matter how much we dissect and peel apart and expose the mysteries of the human body, it does nothing to explain why we’re all such silly and emotional creatures. It’s one of the great lessons this exhibition drives home.

Now if you really want to get your money’s worth you should stand in the circulatory room an hour or so and count how many times you overhear people say "wow... just like trees!!" During my visit this occurred over and over ad nauseum, but rightfully so. This is what the developers of this exhibit wanted you to know: our bodies don’t merely mimic nature, or vice versa, but we are nature. Nature is us. We are brilliant and wondrous and this exhibit is evidence of that. That’s not obscene and it doesn’t denounce the supreme being you want to believe in. I don’t think these displays negate the sacrosanctity of our own bodies – quite the opposite in fact. I can’t understand how anything other than severe self-hatred would prevent anyone from understanding that. More evidence, I suppose, that humans are unexplainable no matter how thoroughly you dissect them.

All right, back to the history lesson. Recall that modern anatomy has a long history of intrigue, innovation and controversy to thank and “BODIES” certainly has all these. But pull further back and marvel at the most important point of all: that it’s here at all. Millions of men, women (and don’t even get me started on the history of the role of women in medicine… and society) and even children endured being queued for hours and paid a goodly amount to see this exhibition. Now, real progress would be eliminating the queue. However, I like to think our ancient predecessors would be pleased. No matter where you stand on the Chinese dudes, you have to admit these modern times we live in are pretty cool.

And so this exhibition finds its place among the great innovations of anatomy. And in its inability to explain the essence that’s within, it underscores how truly unique we are. And maybe what makes some people so uncomfortable is the possibility that if we keep this up, we may very well find out what that mysterious essence is. And no one wants that, right? After all, if we take away all the mystery, all the controversy, and all the intrigue you’re left with just… bodies. And who would want to pay to see just a bunch of dead bodies?

Ok, yeah, we probably all know someone like that. And we probably make sure to keep our children away from them.

BTW, this production company also puts on a show called STAR TREK... The Exhibition. OH YEAH! I'd give my gold-framed Patrick Stewart collector card to go to that!

(Photograph shamelessly robbed from BODIES... The Exhibition)