Have you ever seen a cat as it prepares to go to sleep? Most cats deem the "self" as the only thing worth any respect, and with jolly good reason.
After stretching forwards and backwards fully, she will drop herself onto the napping area with a "plonk" of exquisite precision. If you have any experience with plonking, and I have plenty- with varying degrees of failure, you will know that the act consists of paying no heed to your weight and dropping your body to the ground. At the very last moment, when the ground is seemingly waiting to prevent you from falling off through the other end of the planet, and of course, while that very ground is readying itself to induce a great deal of pain in order to cure you of your insanity, you must make the ground's task easier, by suddenly taking charge of yourself and landing perfectly. You must not waver. You must show no sign of instability. You must not be shocked. It must be as if you had planned it all, till that very last minute. And in order to win a cat's respect, or in fact any acknowledgment of your presence at all, you must do it without exertion and demonstrate a callous grace. It so happens, that it is humanly impossible to "plonk". And that simply settles the matter for all cats.
After having successfully plonked, a cat will proceed to retract all her limbs. She will draw back her paws underneath her belly. And in a splendidly fluid motion will twirl her tail and tuck it in. And in a final flourish, will droop her ear-lobes. The bundle of fur, the cat, having without a doubt earned a good nap and a great deal of vanity will go to sleep.
Of all those moves and frills, it is the drooping of the ears that I envy the most. I have always wondered what people do with their ears when they sleep at night. Unfortunately, I have never been able to ask this question. I cannot imagine any dinner conversation, any idle chatter, where the question "by the way, what happens to your ear lobes at night?", will appear as a seamless part of the rest of the conversation. As a result, this question continues to remain unasked and unanswered and I am left to deal with my ears. For starters, let me disqualify all those people that sleep flat on their backs from offering any suggestion. I do not understand the point in sleeping, if you're not going to bundle up as much as you can. Because, the creators, the followers and the modifiers of the English language all seem to think that the flat-back-sleepers aren't worth spending too much time on, no one has bothered creating a separate word or a separate category for that alternate and unpleasant form of sleeping. My question is directed to what I would call the "true" sleepers- those that try in vain, to bundle up and generally fold themselves up.
What do you do with your earlobes ?
Here's what happens to me. The ear lobe is this strangely convoluted flap that is very good at directing vibrating air into your ear so that you may make sense of all that sound around you. What it is despicably bad at is getting out of the way, when it is not at all required. At night, therefore, when I place my head onto the pillow, my ear-lobes are annoyingly stuck in between. Often, they will fold further, so that, when I get up in the morning, they're really hurting. At the place where they've folded, I will often find a largish red zone. I have tried several cures. For instance, I have tried the obvious- not to lay my head in such a way that them lobes fold. But between my conscious act of lying down to the unconscious act of sleep, clearly, my ear-lobes are managing to dance to the tunes of absolutely nothing, folding and meandering through the depths of darkness, through the silence of the night. So you will not be surprised when I admire, with much pain and heartbreak, the look at a cat, perfectly happy with its drooped ears, and the drooped ears perfectly happy with the way they have gotten themselves out of the way.
Now of course, I have entertained the possibility that we humans have found a way around this. In fact, that big piece of flesh that we call the brain, is right between the ears. They ought to communicate rather well about these kinds of imminent problems. Except, I don't know, and for the aforementioned reasons, cannot ask and not be thought of as a thoroughbred lunatic.
And so, if you please, you can tell me the answer right here.
And perhaps relieve me of my miseries.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Google Care
I slipped and twisted my ankle recently. In 24 years, I’ve never twisted my ankle. I’ve wantonly inserted my ankle into the spokes of my mom’s kinetic Honda once (I was just curious to know what would happen!!!), but never have I ever twisted my ankle. I should have realized the day I started training for the marathon, that an ankle twist was not too far away. As it turns out, I was trying to catch the bus. There was way too much snow everywhere. In my bag, I carried a gallon of milk, some instant coffee powder and a mug. I was going to take all of this, in an ever-continuing attempt to make myself feel at home in my lab, to beat the need to leave the lab when the clock strikes 5 (regardless of how much work I’d gotten done). In my hands, I also had a package that I needed to return. I’m one of those people who orders several things online and returns most of them. I am also one of the few people, whose packages get lost in snow blizzards in Utah, while I’m away in India vacationing in Lakshadweep at a resort with no internet (and therefore cannot track my package). When the bus came, I ran for life, slipped fell, and it hurt like hell. But I will not write about my love-hate relationship with the dead Mr Murphy. Nor do I think I need to groan about the effects of gravity and how it makes you fall down and twist your ankle instead of flying away like a bird and busting no-more than a few feathers. What I do need to groan about is health care.
Getting to a doctor is rather easy in India. There’s usually a nursing home, a clinic or two and several pharmacies every 2 lanes in India. And you could tell by the look of the place whether you should go there to get some cold medicine, some fever medication, to get your sprain looked at or something even more serious. The point is, you could always get to one. There would typically be a pharmacy next door to the clinic and the chap at the pharmacy always has the unique talent of being able to read the doctor’s indecipherable handwriting ( I am told that doctors have bad handwriting because they have to write a lot during the several exams they take at med-school). He will also explain what each medicine is for in layman's terms. A doctor will use obscure terminology to prove to their clients that he in fact did study hard to spell terms at the cost of beautiful penmanship. Such was the luxury that I was accustomed to in my developing, snake-charming, country.
A few months after I moved to Pittsburgh I got blisters on my skin. They’d erupt overnight and itch like hell in the morning. I didn’t know what to do. I did know though, that getting a doctor would not be easy. I did not know who my primary-care-physician was. And I knew that that drug-stores had aisles of medication for all sorts of ailments, almost all of which will contain moisturizers. I do not understand the obsession with moisturizers but I will not be surprised if breakfast cereal came with moisturizers so as to not scratch your tongue. So I went to google images, searched for blisters, and spotted images that looked like mine. Quickly enough, I realized they were bed bug bites. And a few hours later, I knew what bed bugs looked like, what you should and should not do and also that doctors will typically not confirm that it was bed-bug bites unless you could find evidence of bed-bugs. I also learnt that finding bed-bugs was not easy. I was adviced to use anti-histamines to reduce the itching, and wash all your clothes and sheets with really hot water.
Due to what I suspect as being a paranoia-induced-suppression-of-mental-ability, I made my way through the health care system. I made phone call after phone call to primary care physicians whose calendars were blocked for months; to dermatologists who only saw new patients on Fridays and weren’t free for 3 months and to those that only specialized in skin-cancer related blisters, and one that even asked me if the following wednesday would suit me for a skin graft; to family physicians that do not accept new patients, until finally, someone was willing to see me. Right away, I distrusted them because if they were good then they too should’ve been booked. But I had to go see a doctor. On the day of my appointment, I was asked to strip and weigh myself, my temperature was taken, my blood pressure was taken, and I sat there clueless not knowing how any of this related to my “skin condition”. When the doctor did come, he told me nothing conclusive and confirmed nothing. He generally seemed to think that I was right to have applied anti-histamines. Almost the only thing he was sure of was that I should come back if symptoms persisted. I never went back. Google told me everything I needed to know. It charged me no fee, and I am now happily blister- free.
Now fate’s doing a do-over with my ankle. And again, people are asking me if I went to see the doc. I tell them that I won’t see a doc because I doubt he updates his brain as often as google worms and creepy crawls the web. I doubt the doc will tell me anything that google hasn’t already told me. And I have neither the time, the inclination, the energy, or a life threatening skin condition that will convince me to make a million phone calls again only to be told that I can see the orthopaedist sometime after the third coming of Christ.
I hear tell of a rumble in DC about what to do about health-care. I say, let google handle it. They did things in china that DC would have scarce considered. They’re not mired deep in a fiscal deficit. And they, if anyone, know how to organize databases. And while DC has a constitution that no one can understand anymore, Google has a simple credo that everyone does. “Don’t be evil”. Google wants a new business model? I, for one, wouldn’t mind paying a penny or two for every medical page. Maybe the government should simple cure heart disease and HIV. I’d be happy to let google look at my sprain.
Care for google-care anyone ?
Getting to a doctor is rather easy in India. There’s usually a nursing home, a clinic or two and several pharmacies every 2 lanes in India. And you could tell by the look of the place whether you should go there to get some cold medicine, some fever medication, to get your sprain looked at or something even more serious. The point is, you could always get to one. There would typically be a pharmacy next door to the clinic and the chap at the pharmacy always has the unique talent of being able to read the doctor’s indecipherable handwriting ( I am told that doctors have bad handwriting because they have to write a lot during the several exams they take at med-school). He will also explain what each medicine is for in layman's terms. A doctor will use obscure terminology to prove to their clients that he in fact did study hard to spell terms at the cost of beautiful penmanship. Such was the luxury that I was accustomed to in my developing, snake-charming, country.
A few months after I moved to Pittsburgh I got blisters on my skin. They’d erupt overnight and itch like hell in the morning. I didn’t know what to do. I did know though, that getting a doctor would not be easy. I did not know who my primary-care-physician was. And I knew that that drug-stores had aisles of medication for all sorts of ailments, almost all of which will contain moisturizers. I do not understand the obsession with moisturizers but I will not be surprised if breakfast cereal came with moisturizers so as to not scratch your tongue. So I went to google images, searched for blisters, and spotted images that looked like mine. Quickly enough, I realized they were bed bug bites. And a few hours later, I knew what bed bugs looked like, what you should and should not do and also that doctors will typically not confirm that it was bed-bug bites unless you could find evidence of bed-bugs. I also learnt that finding bed-bugs was not easy. I was adviced to use anti-histamines to reduce the itching, and wash all your clothes and sheets with really hot water.
Due to what I suspect as being a paranoia-induced-suppression-of-mental-ability, I made my way through the health care system. I made phone call after phone call to primary care physicians whose calendars were blocked for months; to dermatologists who only saw new patients on Fridays and weren’t free for 3 months and to those that only specialized in skin-cancer related blisters, and one that even asked me if the following wednesday would suit me for a skin graft; to family physicians that do not accept new patients, until finally, someone was willing to see me. Right away, I distrusted them because if they were good then they too should’ve been booked. But I had to go see a doctor. On the day of my appointment, I was asked to strip and weigh myself, my temperature was taken, my blood pressure was taken, and I sat there clueless not knowing how any of this related to my “skin condition”. When the doctor did come, he told me nothing conclusive and confirmed nothing. He generally seemed to think that I was right to have applied anti-histamines. Almost the only thing he was sure of was that I should come back if symptoms persisted. I never went back. Google told me everything I needed to know. It charged me no fee, and I am now happily blister- free.
Now fate’s doing a do-over with my ankle. And again, people are asking me if I went to see the doc. I tell them that I won’t see a doc because I doubt he updates his brain as often as google worms and creepy crawls the web. I doubt the doc will tell me anything that google hasn’t already told me. And I have neither the time, the inclination, the energy, or a life threatening skin condition that will convince me to make a million phone calls again only to be told that I can see the orthopaedist sometime after the third coming of Christ.
I hear tell of a rumble in DC about what to do about health-care. I say, let google handle it. They did things in china that DC would have scarce considered. They’re not mired deep in a fiscal deficit. And they, if anyone, know how to organize databases. And while DC has a constitution that no one can understand anymore, Google has a simple credo that everyone does. “Don’t be evil”. Google wants a new business model? I, for one, wouldn’t mind paying a penny or two for every medical page. Maybe the government should simple cure heart disease and HIV. I’d be happy to let google look at my sprain.
Care for google-care anyone ?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Date-blindness
In a perfectly funny world, this post would be about my messy love life describing a life where I might go on a series of dates with a series of odd men, discovering what I do not like and never really discovering love. In a perfectly funny world, this would be the stuff of sitcoms that would run season after season, making millionaires out of some very talented (and pretty) actors ( and actresses) and making me somewhat wealthy. Maybe I'd be able to afford an i-phone and will be able to constantly tweet about how awesome that new sitcom is and spread the buzz. But of course, we do not live in a perfectly funny world. And therefore this post will have nothing to do about glitzy dates and fancy dinners or well-desrerved fame. Quick question: why is it that these fancy restaurants always have the tiniest of tables. It isn't because they want to make place for as many people as possible. Because that would ruin their elitist purpose. My cynical alterego tells me that they have their cctv cameras recording their patrons' clumsy behavior while they are spilling and struggling to eat daintily over small tables (which for aesthetic and entirely useless reasons must make place for a customary vase with a rose or a floating candle or some such embellishment). The employees of the restaurant probably pick the funniest video and laugh over it during work hours. Or during christmas parties. It must be because of that. I see no other plausible reason.
Nonetheless, I shall get back to my condition.
I imagine, if my condition is as serious as I think it is, requiring immediate focus on possible methods of rehabilitation and so on and so forth, a physician would write the following in his notes.
****************************
In December 2009, patient JS presented with an increasingly common condition that I shall henceforth refer to as date blindness. Patient JS was instrumental in my finally being able to obtain a comprehensive view of this condition. It is through my encounters with JS, with her co-operation, her high IQ, and her interest in cognition that I feel that we are finally at the point where we can formulate sound rehabilitation strategies.
Before proceeding to discuss JS's condition, it may be worthwhile to lay out the typical characteristics of this syndrome. Therefore, I shall first attempt to describe the range of the syndrome. In discussing JS's specific condition, I will also discuss possible causes of the syndrome which will provide us with insight into possible methods of rehabilitation.
Date-blindness is characterized by an inability of a subject to identify the day of the month when presented with a typical 8 number date notation. They are very accurate in identifying the day of the week. They are aware of the order of months and the number of days each month has. Their knowledge of month order, day order is intact and accessible. Their knowledge of historic events is intact. They accurately remember their birthday. They will most always remember dates that are autobiographical in nature. Their IQ is normal. So is their appetite and interest in gossip. They are sociable and independent. Many complain that they are single. Owing to their deficit, they are often unpunctual. It is the reason this field has progressed slowly; subjects will often not turn up at their scheduled appointments, despite reminders from my receptionist. The similarity in their dating experiences is striking as well. Most subjects will relate incidents about their date not showing up. It is likely, that it is the subject that showed up for the date on the wrong day of the wrong month. Often it is this realization that causes them to consult with a clinician. They can, however, point to appropriate dates in a calendar. It seems that the deficit lies solely in their ability to transform numbers in the 8 numbered format into the appropriate date. This deficit is bidirectional. They cannot read a given date; nor can they write the appropriate date when told "June, 7th 2009". I will re-iterate that this deficit is for the dates and months only and not for the year.
In the most extreme form of the syndrome, patients cannot identify date and month. Such inability is often accompanied with hysteric outbursts. A striking feature of these hysteric episodes is the tendency of the patient to complain about their immigrant status. Often they will refuse to even attempt to do the task and will proceed to blame the health-care system in this country. In the mildest form they will juxtapose the day and the month. When presented with 06/07/2009, they are apt to say July 6th, June 6th, June 7th, July 7th. These answers are often provided with equal frequencies.
I will now turn to the specifics of JS's condition. JS is a student of neuroscience who arrived in Pittsburgh in September 2008. She made a curious request to my secretary when she scheduled the appointment. She insisted that she be given reminders in a name of the month/date format instead of number of month/date within a month format. It is therefore not a coincidence that she made it to the appointment in time. On entering my office she quickly declared that she didn't understand why she was able to switch from left-hand-drive in her home country to right-hand-drive in USA but she was not able to make the switch from a dd/mm/yyyy system to a mm/dd/yyyy system just as easily. It is with this insigthful statement of hers, that I was finally able to understand the condition I have called date-blindness. Date-blindness seems to be a prolonged, temporary transitional state as subjects learn to accept and identify dates referred in the middle-endian format if they were previously used to referring to them in the small-endian format and vice versa.
Years of conditioning in a dd/mm/yyyy makes a transition to the other system hard on many immigrants. Since it is not as life threatening as driving on the wrong side of the road, the teaching signal reaching cortex that drives changes in synaptic weights in order to effect such a transition is weaker and necessarily takes more time. It is in consultation with JS that I have begun to ponder about possible rehabilitative strategies. An effective method would be to increase the survival valence of indentifying the date correctly. More simply put, indentifying a date wrongly must greatly endanger the life of a subject. JS, with a keen grasp of the condition, pointed out that many subjects came into my clinic because they were missing out on good dates. She further pointed out that many celebrities are eager to contribute to noble causes. She suggested that celebrities be willing to devote some of their time to go on a date with one of the subjects. It is likely, then, that subject will persevere at grasping the mm/dd/yyyy system. Since no one can pass a chance to dine with nicole kidman or tom cruise.
JS herself would prefer Richard Gere.
*******************************
Nonetheless, I shall get back to my condition.
I imagine, if my condition is as serious as I think it is, requiring immediate focus on possible methods of rehabilitation and so on and so forth, a physician would write the following in his notes.
****************************
In December 2009, patient JS presented with an increasingly common condition that I shall henceforth refer to as date blindness. Patient JS was instrumental in my finally being able to obtain a comprehensive view of this condition. It is through my encounters with JS, with her co-operation, her high IQ, and her interest in cognition that I feel that we are finally at the point where we can formulate sound rehabilitation strategies.
Before proceeding to discuss JS's condition, it may be worthwhile to lay out the typical characteristics of this syndrome. Therefore, I shall first attempt to describe the range of the syndrome. In discussing JS's specific condition, I will also discuss possible causes of the syndrome which will provide us with insight into possible methods of rehabilitation.
Date-blindness is characterized by an inability of a subject to identify the day of the month when presented with a typical 8 number date notation. They are very accurate in identifying the day of the week. They are aware of the order of months and the number of days each month has. Their knowledge of month order, day order is intact and accessible. Their knowledge of historic events is intact. They accurately remember their birthday. They will most always remember dates that are autobiographical in nature. Their IQ is normal. So is their appetite and interest in gossip. They are sociable and independent. Many complain that they are single. Owing to their deficit, they are often unpunctual. It is the reason this field has progressed slowly; subjects will often not turn up at their scheduled appointments, despite reminders from my receptionist. The similarity in their dating experiences is striking as well. Most subjects will relate incidents about their date not showing up. It is likely, that it is the subject that showed up for the date on the wrong day of the wrong month. Often it is this realization that causes them to consult with a clinician. They can, however, point to appropriate dates in a calendar. It seems that the deficit lies solely in their ability to transform numbers in the 8 numbered format into the appropriate date. This deficit is bidirectional. They cannot read a given date; nor can they write the appropriate date when told "June, 7th 2009". I will re-iterate that this deficit is for the dates and months only and not for the year.
In the most extreme form of the syndrome, patients cannot identify date and month. Such inability is often accompanied with hysteric outbursts. A striking feature of these hysteric episodes is the tendency of the patient to complain about their immigrant status. Often they will refuse to even attempt to do the task and will proceed to blame the health-care system in this country. In the mildest form they will juxtapose the day and the month. When presented with 06/07/2009, they are apt to say July 6th, June 6th, June 7th, July 7th. These answers are often provided with equal frequencies.
I will now turn to the specifics of JS's condition. JS is a student of neuroscience who arrived in Pittsburgh in September 2008. She made a curious request to my secretary when she scheduled the appointment. She insisted that she be given reminders in a name of the month/date format instead of number of month/date within a month format. It is therefore not a coincidence that she made it to the appointment in time. On entering my office she quickly declared that she didn't understand why she was able to switch from left-hand-drive in her home country to right-hand-drive in USA but she was not able to make the switch from a dd/mm/yyyy system to a mm/dd/yyyy system just as easily. It is with this insigthful statement of hers, that I was finally able to understand the condition I have called date-blindness. Date-blindness seems to be a prolonged, temporary transitional state as subjects learn to accept and identify dates referred in the middle-endian format if they were previously used to referring to them in the small-endian format and vice versa.
Years of conditioning in a dd/mm/yyyy makes a transition to the other system hard on many immigrants. Since it is not as life threatening as driving on the wrong side of the road, the teaching signal reaching cortex that drives changes in synaptic weights in order to effect such a transition is weaker and necessarily takes more time. It is in consultation with JS that I have begun to ponder about possible rehabilitative strategies. An effective method would be to increase the survival valence of indentifying the date correctly. More simply put, indentifying a date wrongly must greatly endanger the life of a subject. JS, with a keen grasp of the condition, pointed out that many subjects came into my clinic because they were missing out on good dates. She further pointed out that many celebrities are eager to contribute to noble causes. She suggested that celebrities be willing to devote some of their time to go on a date with one of the subjects. It is likely, then, that subject will persevere at grasping the mm/dd/yyyy system. Since no one can pass a chance to dine with nicole kidman or tom cruise.
JS herself would prefer Richard Gere.
*******************************
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Name your price
How much for the rain to not tease
The sky's message, he whispers to the leaves
Those words so dear
That I barely hear
Those frivolous plans of the starry seas
How much for a month's calm breeze
For the waves to flutter above my knees
The dolphins must come and dance
The shark be dismissed with glance
And unto eternity, all the dark forces must freeze
How much for a year's lease on peace
****
And for a quick dose of reality
(Adapted from pat-a-cake; pat-a-cake)
Online buying for dummies
Package it Package it
Packer's man
Mail me a packet
As fast as you can
Mix it and bill it
and mark me a fee
And there will be plenty
for bankers, NOT me
And here's the original .....
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,
Baker's man!
Bake us a cake
As fast as you can,
Mix it and prick it
And mark it with B,
And there will be plenty
For baby and me.
The sky's message, he whispers to the leaves
Those words so dear
That I barely hear
Those frivolous plans of the starry seas
How much for a month's calm breeze
For the waves to flutter above my knees
The dolphins must come and dance
The shark be dismissed with glance
And unto eternity, all the dark forces must freeze
How much for a year's lease on peace
****
And for a quick dose of reality
(Adapted from pat-a-cake; pat-a-cake)
Online buying for dummies
Package it Package it
Packer's man
Mail me a packet
As fast as you can
Mix it and bill it
and mark me a fee
And there will be plenty
for bankers, NOT me
And here's the original .....
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,
Baker's man!
Bake us a cake
As fast as you can,
Mix it and prick it
And mark it with B,
And there will be plenty
For baby and me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
