New Drug May Reverse Autism

This article from the BBC shows how scientists have managed to reverse the symptoms of autism in mice by targeting the PAK enzyme, which controls connection between brain cells. The mice displayed behavior common to those affected by Fragile X Syndrome, a known factor in autism and mental retardation, but after scientists inhibited the action of the PAK enzyme their symptoms virtually vanished.

This may be a tremendous breakthrough in the field of autism and other mental retardation issues. The fact this treatment and reversal occurred quite some time after the symptoms first began suggests there's hope for those already suffering, as well as those in danger of developing Fragile X Syndrome in the future.

Birthday Pains

I've been stretching the truth a little in my profile until now--today is actually when I turn 26. It's the first birthday I almost forgot...and sort of wish I did.

Never thought I'd be one of those people who get all depressed and morose on their birthday. Looking back, I guess it's been a natural progression for me. While I never had any grand delusions that I would be saving the world by now, I did expect to be doing something worthwhile. Instead I sit in limbo, waiting: waiting to get enough money to pay off my student loans, waiting to get my life back on track, waiting for those words I long to hear from my father's radiation oncologist that the cancer is gone. So much waiting...and only 26 damn years old.

In birthdays past I would celebrate with friends and family by seeing a Broadway show (front row, of course) and visiting my friend Bob at the Encore restaurant in the Marriott Marquis. This year I have no money, nearly all my friends have moved out of state, and neither of my parents are in any physical condition to celebrate. So now I celebrate the only way I can--with a deep dish pizza and a blog post.

I know I sound bitter and self-pitying, and maybe to a degree I am. But while I've learned to adapt to any situation quickly, embracing change has never been a strong point for me. Now I'm another year older, nothing is how I envisioned it five years ago, and the road ahead is rocky at best and a nightmare at worst. 26...and I feel like 50.

Ah, well. Maybe next year the Broadway lights will sparkle again.

M*A*S*H fanfic

Mon conte est finie. I command you to read it.

Faster Treatment = More Lives Saved

I ran across this article from Medical News Today. Apparently a hospital in Indiana has found a way to increase response time in treating ST-segment elevation myocardial infarction (a type of heart attack in which an artery is completely blocked). The common treatment for STEMI is an emergency angioplasty, but how successful it is depends a lot on how fast it gets done.

So this hospital came up with two key changes to speed up the process that seem to be working: instead of having to wait on activating the cath lab until a cardiologist comes to the ER to examine the patient, the ER physician can now activate the cath lab without waiting for the go-ahead from the cardiologist. (Sounds like a simple idea, but just consider how difficult it is to break away from "traditional" protocol in the ER.) The other change was to put in place an in-house "Emergency Heart Attack Response Team", to set up the cath lab almost as soon as the physician activates it.

This is a fantastic idea, and I have no doubt it'll catch on with other hospitals--the sooner the better.

We'll Run On Our Own Legs

I'm uploading this pic for a page of mine on Neopets. (Contrary to popular belief, it's not really a children's site; it was created almost eight years ago by two college kids to help other college kids throw away their study time.)

It's from an anime called Wolf's Rain. The series had some fascinating concepts and centered on an original story about wolves seeking "paradise" as the world comes to an end. One line stuck with me over the years, spoken by the wolf pack leader Kiba to a human: "Why? Why do you always look to the sky? Why do you try so hard to fly when you don't have any wings? We'll run on our own legs." I always took that to mean a person shouldn't spend time dreaming or wishing things were a certain way; if there's a way to get it done, just shut up and do it. It's a lesson I've come to learn the hard way.

Cracking the Genetic Code--Again

A friend recently forwarded this article to me from the BBC. The article discusses a recent study that suggests we may be a step closer to linking specific genes with the development of diseases like diabetes and heart disease.

The potential ramifications for this discovery can be huge. After all, who wouldn't want a surefire way to know if they'll have an increased risk of disease later in life? The earlier they discover it, the more preventive measures they can take. This also opens the door for possible genome-specific cures to be created, effectively re-training a person's genes to reject disease.

Of course, as with any advancement in the genetic field, there's a flip side. My friend also included an article from the New York Times showcasing Dr. James D. Watson, whose entire genome was recently deciphered along with that of Celera Corporation's J. Craig Venter. At the same time, questions are being raised that the project might reveal their familial genetic "imperfections" to the public.

Say what now?

Obviously, there's a "creep factor" for anything as invasive as examining your own gene structure. And I too have innate fears as to what currently unknown horrors might face us when this technology regrettably (yet inevitably) ends up in the wrong hands. But if the only argument against genome-mapping for possible links to disease is the fact you might air your family's dirty laundry to the public, get over it. There's plenty enough to worry about with the future of genetics--say, biowarfare, for example--without being scared that people will laugh at me because one of my chromosomes looks funny.

I may not be the biggest supporter of genetic mapping, but I sure as hell know there's no stopping it. And I'd rather see it progress under the supervision of those scientists who have no ulterior motives than worry about my genes hanging out while someone deep underground makes those same scientific advances as they plot my destruction.

A Little Fall of Rain

I uploaded the first chapter of my fanfic to FanFiction.net. Check it out. Other chaptery goodness is soon to follow, I promise.

YouTube

Saw a blooper reel for M*A*S*H that I thought was cute. I also stumbled across a music video combining the "Abyssynia, Henry" episode with Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight". Oddly touching.

So far this week I've managed to catch up with two friends I haven't spoken to in years. One I used to go to Drew with; she's in Chicago currently getting her master's in music business management. Somehow she's been there God knows how many years and still hasn't gone to the Museum of Science and Industry. I, on the other hand, spend every minute there whenever I visit the Windy City. There, and the Adler Planetarium. I'm such a nerd.

My other friend and I used to play a MUD game called Dragon's Gate. Sadly, the game is no more, but I remembered having written a few poems my character recited--see the right side of this blog for links. Poems aren't really my thing, but I enjoyed the opportunity to write them.

I also won every poetry contest my character entered, to boot. That means I'm either a good poet or just neurotic--maybe both. Three cheers for obsessive perfectionism!

Goodbye, Joe

On March 9th, the chairman of the Drew University theatre department, Joe Patenaude, passed away from a heart attack. The university held a memorial service for him in April, along with a concert to benefit his daughter.

Only I didn't know any of this until I got the alumni magazine in the mail.

How do I feel about this? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to feel? I know that, as an alumna for several years, I'm already once removed from the campus, so it would follow that I don't always know everything that's going on there.

At the same time, this dredges up memories of when my friend died during Spring Break and I didn't know until after the funeral. In fact, I didn't get the email that came out and only found out when she didn't show up for the Latin class we had together. I felt cheated (and guilty) for not being able to attend her funeral, and I feel cheated (and guilty) for not attending Joe's memorial service.

If I remember this right, he got the chairman position a few years ago because he wasn't around during the vote (and no, that wasn't a joke.) Joe and I rarely saw things eye to eye, but I respected his passion and conviction about his work. I also liked him as a friend and human being, and spoke with him on a number of occasions after graduation. We would meet by accident at the local library or bookstore and catch up on life. I offered my sympathy when he told me his wife had a brain tumor, and my condolences when she passed away last year. (I never had the chance to tell him my father would also be diagnosed with a brain tumor that December.) He was so proud when Drew put on a production of the musical Urinetown, and when I didn't even have enough money for my father's ticket he told me not to worry about it. He was always honest, and that isn't something you can say about many people.

And what about his daughter, Emma? I don't remember how old she is, but she must barely be a teenager. She's lost both parents in less than a year. Out of all my muddled feelings, I feel the sorriest for her. Poor kid didn't deserve this.

I still haven't written anything on his condolence page yet. Right now I've had so much pain and fear in my life I'm not sure I can.

Goodbye, Joe. Thanks for being a part of my life, if only for a few years, and for actually listening to this department misfit even when I couldn't understand myself.

Martinis and Medicine

A friend of mine recently convinced me to start a blog, apparently under the impression that what I have to say would be of interest to others. (A misconception I'm sure he'll come to realize in time.)

A blissfully brief introduction: years ago I went to college with the plan of going straight on to medical school. After a few surprises along the way, not the least of which being the sudden passing of a good friend during Spring Break of my sophomore year, my mid-life crisis came twenty years too early. In this time I also found a knack for playwriting, which I further explored by way of a theatre major and even now put to good (and occasionally mischievous) use. In the past few years I've gone through alternating periods of self-discovery and trials by hellfire, leaving me to question everything I had ever known about myself and the natural order of the world. Then all of a sudden, I woke up and realized I was 26 years old and no closer to reaching my life's goals than when I first dreamed them.

That's when I realized that life really is what you make from it.

So now I sit here, typing this blog post into cyberspace, groping my way blindly back to the middle of the road to find--and realize--my dreams. Whether I make it or not, at least I tried, right?

One last note: I'm uploading this photo of Alan Alda for my profile. TVLand's decision to re-air the series M*A*S*H has had an oddly profound effect on my life--maybe one of those "right place, right time" situations. I've always respected Alan's natural talent as an actor, writer and director throughout his life, but watching the show's reruns these past few months have made me painfully aware of the gap between who I am and who I want to be. For that, as strange as it sounds, I'm truly grateful.

If you're with me so far, thank you. I'll try to make this blog worthy of your patronage. If not, just head to Dunkin' Donuts for your free bagel and coffee; just give them my name--they'll know who I am.