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According to a survey that I rigorously made up for this article, three out of four people are quicker to think of things they hate, than things they like. If we extrapolate this to the rest of the population, correcting for magnetic fields and the tilt in the Earth’s axis, then you can see that my independent research leads to one bone-chilling conclusion:
In the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, during a science enrichment program at Duke University School of Medicine, our group was asked to participate in a disaster-preparedness drill. The exercise was intended to simulate the evacuation of a hospital. We were to be the patients.
For the vast majority of us, the only contact we have with a doctor on a regular basis is during an annual checkup. Cultural stereotypes notwithstanding, how we perceive doctors comes from a very limited number of sources. I would venture to say that certain TV shows are far and away more informative to the general public about medical terminology, diagnoses and professionals themselves than any PSA or actual doctor. Unfortunately, a good deal of that information is false.
My heartfelt condolences go out to all those who drafted Peyton Manning into their fantasy football teams. It seems that Manning’s season-ending neck injury is more formidable than an illustrious career, a sizable bank account and, most importantly, his and our desire for a comeback.
During World War II, German scientists conducted a series of horrific experiments on prisoners in concentration camps designed to find out how well the human body can tolerate extreme cold. Naked prisoners were immersed in ice water. Many died agonizing deaths, but not before the scientists found that individuals died much faster when their necks were submerged in the frigid water. As a result, the scientists developed a flotation device, worn like a vest, that keeps the wearer’s neck above water. Sound familiar? It should — if you’ve ever been kayaking, canoeing, jetskiing or the like, there is a good chance that you owe your life to Nazi science.
We’ve all been faintly curious about our doctors’ credentials, but have you ever wondered what their personal statements for medical school looked like?
Indulge me. Sit back and imagine a certain utopia.
Too many times this past week I’ve woken up well-rested when I wasn’t supposed to be.
When I was little, my parents offered me a dollar if I could survive my first visit to the barbershop without crying. As a stranger scraped my scalp, I grimaced and wondered what possible benefit there would ever be to coming back. But if I had gone to a certain barbershop here in West Philadelphia, the Cut Hypertension program would have made sure that living a longer, healthier life would be that benefit.
As I reclined in my chair stuffing my face, I came across a New York Times article with a headline that read like a joke — “Government’s Dietary Advice: Eat Less.” Between mouthfuls of my deep-fried eggroll, I laughed.
If you’ve ever gotten choked up at characters on screen or on stage that you’ve never met or know aren’t real, if you’ve ever clapped or cheered at a happy ending — then this show might be for you.
Do you have chronic fatigue during the night hours? Do you get short of breath during strenuous exercise? Do summers make you sweat profusely? Ever feel yourself aging uncontrollably? If you said yes to any of these, or something loosely related, you may benefit from the newest miracle drug that has been with us for centuries!
When I wear sweats, I command a little more respect. Police think I’m a little more interesting, women reach in their purse (I assume to give me a lollipop if I asked) and they cross the street before the crosswalk just to make sure I can have a little more room on the sidewalk. People’s thoughtfulness knows no bounds when you look like the nice man on the wanted poster.
If I were to list the most common words said at the Michelle Obama rally Monday night, “Penn” would be right up there with “vote” and “thank.” This seems harmless in itself. But after seeing the election results, as much as the First Lady’s presence at Penn may have helped the Democratic ticket, it may have stung just a little too.
If someone asks you how much a life is worth, take two pennies out of your pocket, hand them over, and be on your way. That is to say, if you ever needed more proof that lives are decided for better or worse by popular opinion — by our collective two cents — then look no further than the current state of federally funded embryonic stem cell research in this country and the small-picture, uninformed rhetoric that frames the debate.
There is a certain arrogance that comes along with being healthy. This isn’t the conceit of one-upmanship that usually comes to mind, but the quiet, reassuring companion that allows you to read that “one in X” statistic about a disease unfazed. The arrogance gently convinces you that things like that only happen to other people … you know, people who aren’t healthy like you and me. But for those who have daily dealings with the sick, dissociating yourself from statistics can be dangerous.
If you went back in time six years and told me that I would be smiling while cutting open dead bodies, I would have gotten angry and told you to take it back. When I first started writing this column a week ago, I had yet to begin anatomy lab and didn’t know what to expect.
On a colorful bulletin board outside of the School of Medicine Admissions Office, Suite 100 in Stemmler Hall, there is a list of numbers of which I am partly responsible for. These are not the results of a clinical trial or painstaking biochemical test, but rather the demographics of Penn Medicine’s newly enrolled class.