Lady Gaga had to cancel some shows because she has Synovitis. Can you get that from wearing raw meat? Just checkin’. Actually, I know a little something about this. Synovitis, I mean. Not the wearing meat part; I much prefer to eat mine.
Go back to me at 18. Yes, I know it was a long time ago. But there are some things you do not forget, like my first days in the emergency room at the ancient and venerated Massachusetts General Hospital. It had been open since 1811. I read the log; the first patient was a French sailor — ships could dock at the front door, then — with what was politely referred to as a “social disease.” It was a work-study job assigned to me as an undergraduate, allegedly pre-med, at the sprawling Boston University. They laughed when I said I was going to be a doctor. I took people’s wallets from their pockets, looking for identification and insurance cards and I was good at that nefarious profession. I loved the moments when it was quiet up front and I could sneak back to an operating or treatment room, stealing a generally useless tidbit of medical knowledge. Such tidbits seemed so precious then. I remember sneaking back to the cast room when a handsome, muscled, orthopedic surgeon was casting a leg. He was laughing at me, like everyone else. He told me to ask him questions. The lady with fake blond hair, whom he was casting, was laughing, too. “Go ahead, honey. Ask him questions.” I asked him, I guess she hurt her knee. “How do you know how high up and how low down to build the cast?” Above and below the injury. Knees were kind of a mess, but you always worried about the articulations above and below. The orthopedist was not particularly articulate. I started thinking that any idiot could be one, and medical school should not be that hard to get into. I thanked him and turned to leave when he hit me with something I have never forgotten. “Casts are easy. Broken bones are easy. The tough stuff is soft tissue. Nobody knows a damned thing about soft tissue injuries. They act like they do, but they don’t.” I repeated my thanks, and felt bad that I had to slip back to the front desk and the business of who people were and who paid for all this. Read more on Lady Gaga’s Synovitis…
Filed under Diagnosis, medicine, News by on Feb 22nd, 2013. Comment. 
When I was an undergrad at Boston University, I took a course in the department of sociology in “medical administration.” I was compelled to understand the social context of medical practice, for whatever reason. I remember little of the course itself. There was a very attractive older woman sitting next to me who amused herself by “adopting” me, which she thought gave her a right to criticize my then overweight figure and poor clothes.
I remember more about her than I do about the professor, a wacky guy the university had seen fit to import from New Zealand. He had published a couple of relevant papers down there, but was still pretty new to the American health care system. He told us that New Zealand had lots of sheep and was a big wool producer. He talked about this great wool magnate who had this neat wool mill — a big one — and how it was he actually became quite wealthy. This was someone who knew about the tremendously loud machines that were used to process the wool. The wool mill owner decided to hire only deaf people. They asked for little; generally, they had problems finding jobs. They were really happy and thankful to be able to work, so they worked hard. They did not have any kind of a problem with the very loud machines.
That struck me so much then that I remember the story now, 50 years later. Even then, I already felt that I would be in some kind of a management position as a physician and could do something that clever, becoming as rich and powerful as that New Zealand guy. The professor had said something about Americans not thinking that way. The opportunity has not really presented itself.
Probably the closest I ever came was when I was running the day treatment center at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Oklahoma. I had a lot of schizophrenic gentlemen who were not rich in social skills, but many of whom liked computers better than people. Certainly, they related to computers better than they related to people. I tried to get them computers, maybe even a little training. Read more on How to Employ an Individual with Asperger’s…
Filed under Asperger's by on Jan 15th, 2013. Comment.
Topic: Research Fraud
For someone who has been a part of many clinical trials, I will be the first to admit that I have very little training in research design or statistics. Oh, the hours I’ve spent surreptitiously curled up on the sofa of a doctors’ lounge or my own apartment, thinking that somebody paid somebody a lot of money to write “science” so I could figure out how and why I would know things. It pretty much worked. There were a few mentions of statistics at my delightfully thorough prep school, but there was not so much as a word at medical school. The research types were always hanging around medical school settings — their brains rented and services bought by the medical side of things — as they did not make much money. We did receive some wonderful instruction from clinicians as to how to evaluate research literature and decide how to apply it to our practices.
I have a vivid memory of an endearing shy and spindly instructor during a course required for incipient biologists at Boston University. He had Jewish afro hair, coke bottle bottom glasses, and a more than passing resemblance to a young Woody Allen. Oh, how he despaired that we were mostly going to be money-chain doctors as opposed to truth-chasing scientists. I remember that once, and only once, did he reach fiery intensity in that class. “Nothing will be published unless the probability that it actually shows what it is supposed to show is greater than 19 out of 20, that means p>.05. But nobody wants to admit what that really means.” Oh, how silent we were, on the edge of our chairs. Read more on Research Fraud Isn’t Reported To The Public…
Filed under Government, Research by on Nov 14th, 2012. Comment.
The New Orleans Saints were busted for giving financial rewards to players who inflicted game-ending injuries on the other team. Perhaps you can understand why I think competitive sports should be banned.
When I was very young, my father and mother took my brother and me to a Harvard football game. My father — the original dyed-in-the-wool Harvard man — also pointed out how it was the only major stadium that was a “U” shape. Being open on one end somehow made it special. He told me about the values of sportsmanship and fair play, and how it was good for young men to play football. They were “good” young men, and maybe, since many prep school girls like me dated Harvard men…well, someday.
My father was surprisingly naive about his love of Harvard and cheering. He is the only person I have ever known personally who believed that Tom Lehrer’s parody fight song, “Fight Fiercely Harvard,” was a real Harvard song. Read more on Encouraging Brutality In Sports…
Filed under Brain Damage, News, Sports by on Jun 19th, 2012. Comment.