The Literate Scientist

Moving forward

2011-03-23T13:01:00.000-04:00

Chemotherapy ended Dec. 15th, I lost a breast on Jan. 25th, and I began radiation on March 16th. You'd think after getting through all of that I would be relieved, and I am --greatly--but I'm also still scared.

Laying in the radiation room is an incredibly isolating experience, one the patient has to endure daily for the duration of the treatment. I thought laying there and watching the machine orbit around me, listening to it buzz and groan as it zaps me with radiation, would get easier but it has yet to do so, and I'm seven doses into treatment.

Treatment begins with a flurry of activity, the technicians calling out numbers and moving me around on the table to line my tattoos and stickers up with the machinery and then suddenly they leave and you are all alone, the giant leaden door closing you in the room. They come and go several times to readjust your position and to lay the bolus on your skin (which brings the radiation closer to the skin and keeps if from penetrating too deeply into your body) but each time they leave I wonder what I'm allowing them to do to me. If it's so dangerous they need to leave the room as they treatment me, why am I letting them do it, and how can it possibly be helping?

Quick update

2010-11-28T11:15:00.000-05:00

I realize it's been quite a while since I've posted. I haven't forgotten that I said I would post regularly, but I'm furiously trying to finish critiques and papers and proposals for the end of the school quarter, and also hoping to finish chemo at nearly the same time.

Following all that, I will be back! (And with time on my hands, which will feel odd after this summer and fall.)

My feet aren't really asleep...

2010-09-29T14:46:00.001-04:00

...but they feel like they are. It's another side effect, called peripheral neuropathy.

Generally peripheral neuropathy is linked to diabetes, but certain chemotherapy drugs (including the class of drugs named taxenes, of which Taxol is a member) can also cause damage to the end of nerves, leaving you feeling like you've left your legs crossed for too long or like you've fallen asleep on your side and your arm and hand are now asleep. This usually occurs in the longer nerves in our bodies, which is why feet and hands are the most common areas affected.

My case, thus far, is minor. I'm having some numbness on the outside of my left foot and my heel has been numb for a couple of days, and my toes on both feet are numb and/or tingly off and on. It can progress as the drugs accumulate in your system, but I'm putting my foot down on this one, even if I can't feel it: I am not letting it get worse. The progression can include increased numbness, tingling, and even sharp, "electric" type pains. I've had a few of those to date, and they always make me jump.
Moisturizing seems to be the best way to keep it from progressing, and I've been diligent about applying a thick, natural moisturizer (Moon Valley Organics came recommended at Whole Foods; the woman there said another customer in chemotherapy said it works best, and so far I have to agree, though Eucerin Calming Creme is good too) three or four times a day. This isn't a bad habit to get into anyway, as I've been increasingly dehydrated and my skin is crazy dry.

Controlling your blood sugar has also been cited as a way to decrease the symptoms (this is for the diabetes-related neuropathy, I assume), as has the cure-all for nearly all my chemotherapy side effects, regular exercise. I try to walk regularly, mostly to counteract the aches and the heart-related side effects. Thankfully, the weather seems to be cooperating, at least for the next couple of days.

2010-09-23T17:59:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I finished the third treatment in my second round of chemotherapy. The drug I'm getting this time around is called paclitaxel (brand name Taxol). I will be getting it via injection once a week for three weeks, with a week off each cycle. It's supposed to be much better than the drugs in the first round, which one of the chemo nurses referred to as "the mack daddy of cancer treatment" (and patients can only get once in their lifetimes because it's so toxic to your heart). I'm very glad to be done with that round, though I really cannot complain about the side effects. I was tired for about three or four days after the treatment and achey (like having the flu) but that is about it. Oh, well, I'm bald too, but that didn't really hurt. But this round is either creating a cumulative effect of the drug(s) or the side effects are just more apparent.

Dry skin, dehydration and fatigue are cumulative during this round, as the treatments are more frequent, and though I'm an old pro at these I can already tell they are getting worse. The hot flashes are sticking around, unfortunately, but they are familiar and somehow that makes them tolerable. There is another side effect that the medical professionals worry about, called peripheral neuropathy, but I don't think I'm experiencing that yet. Instead I am displaying a "seldom seen" side effect called hand-foot syndrome.

This fun side effect makes the palms of my hands and the bottoms of my feet feel hot and itchy. I suppose this is tolerable, at least right now, but it's really irritating. I'm hoping (against all I've read) that this does not have a cumulative effect, but I'm afraid it will get worse.

Right now I only have an itchy feeling and at times my palms are red, but it can progress to peeling skin, tenderness, pain and even blistering. Today I've already had some discomfort walking, but no blisters or anything are evident. What's worse, they (the ubiquitous "they") really don't know what causes this reaction. It could possibly be due to the rupture of capillaries in these areas as a result of the drugs.

Moisturizing my hands and feet seems to be the most important thing, as well as elevating my feet as often as I can (at least for a week after the infusion). Thus, I spent an obscene amount on a various assortment of natural moisturizers the other day, hoping I find one that works well. So far Bert's Bee's Mama Bee cooling leg and foot creme provides some temporary relief from both the heat and the itchiness, but I'll keep you updated. I have a lot of hope for several of the other choices, as well.

Anatomy of a hot flash

2010-09-14T13:01:00.000-04:00

I'm bald, tired, and nearly always thirsty. The chemotherapy makes me ache. It makes me tired, too, but also, just to add insult to injury, it also gives you insomnia (though that is exacerbated by the steroids they give you to make you feel better). I awake nearly every two hours throughout the night. Luckily, I can usually fall back to sleep, but there are times I do not, and those are fun. The targeted therapy I just began can cause a skin rash (similar to acne) and will cause diarrhea (they laid that out for me in no uncertain terms). But overall, the worse symptom has to be the hot flashes.

Chemotherapy messes with your hormones and suppresses ovarian function (i.e., you don't ovulate or menstruate). Thus, patients are basically thrown into a chemical-induced menopause. It's lots of fun. You are just sitting there, minding your own business, and suddenly the skin on your head, neck and chest begins to prickle. A flush climbs up your neck and reaches your cheeks, making you feel hot. But by far the best part is the sweat itself. (Personally I sweat on my back, neck and chest and head most often, but there are times when I'm lying in bed that my entire body feels sweaty. And the sweat on your bald head feels lovely, believe me.)

There is no pattern to these little flashes of hell, they come morning, noon and night. They come when I'm relaxed, when I'm running around, and when I'm sleeping. There's really no preparation.

Sometimes I have warning, heart palpitations or shortness of breath. Other times, nothing (most times, actually). Breastcancer.org defines hot flashes as follows: "the sudden, intense, hot feeling on your face and upper body, perhaps preceded or accompanied by a rapid heartbeat and sweating, nausea, dizziness, anxiety, headache, weakness, or a feeling of suffocation." It's as accurate a definition as I can find.

Why does this happen? The simple reason is the change in hormones, specifically estrogen. Low levels of estrogen affect the hypothalamus, the "termostat" of our brains, the area responsible for regulating our sleep cycles, appetite, and body temperature. The drop in estrogen levels causes the hypothalamus to misread our body's temperature and the body's response is, well, not fun, but biologically the brain signals our body (via epinephrine, serotonin and related molecules) to stop the heat, even if there wasn't any heat prior to this signal. So the heart beats faster, your blood vessels dilate (which actually helps cool the blood) and you sweat because it's the body's cooling mechanism. This is how our bodies normally regulate their temperature, but because of the screwed-up hormones it triggers these responses randomly instead of in response to overheating. (Which, incidentally, my body does not do right now, or at least it didn't this summer in the humidity and heat.)

The next time you see me sitting quietly across from you and I suddenly break out in a flush and sweat, be kind. It's terrible. And I learned this after my second hot flash: I called my mom immediately and apologized for making fun of her while she went through menopause. I really do take it all back now.

2010-09-06T16:31:00.003-04:00

You may not know that there are different kinds of breast cancer. Researchers call these “pathways.” There’s the well-known estrogenic (estrogen positive) breast cancer, caused by an overabundance of estrogen (much of which is from the environment). There’s also progestin positive breast cancer, and the highly publicized BRCA1 and BRCA2 genetic forms of the disease. My cancer is HER2+, meaning that some of my cells make too much of the HER2 protein (this is termed “overexpression”). HER2 overexpression is the culprit in about 25% of breast cancers and has been linked to nearly 10% of ovarian cancers as well.

We breast cancer patients who overexpress HER2 proteins sometimes do not respond as well as other patients to traditional treatments such as certain chemotherapy drugs. Thankfully, the discovery of this cancer pathway allows better chemotherapy drugs to be developed and there are targeted treatments too, including Tykerb (generic name: lapatanib) and Herceptin (generic name: trastuzumab).

HER2 proteins are what is called receptor proteins, which the cells use to communicate with one another, and between the inside of the cell and the “outside.” These proteins are found on the surface of every cell and are usually exclusive; that is, if the protein doesn’t “match” the receptor it cannot bind to it. These receptors come from different “families” and work in different ways, and interact with different molecules.

This really is too intricate to get into here, so we’ll leave it at this: HER2 (also called HER2/neu) receptor molecules are signal transductors, meaning they take signals from inside the cell to the outside (or vice versa), so nearby cells can communicate with one another.

It works like this: signal—reception—transduction—response.

The reception is on the surface of the cell membrane, the transduction occurs through the cell membrane and within the cells, and the response occurs in the nucleus of the cell, in the DNA and the proteins it is told to produce. In this case, the cell is told to produce too many HER2 receptors and may not send proper signals to the cell to grow, mature and die (a process called apoptosis, which happens to of my all-time favorite words).

Finding out about these pathways is important to the increased survival in breast cancer patients, as well as to my own treatment. There are chemotherapies, called non-targeted therapy, and targeted biological therapies such as those I will be getting both in the next round of chemo and after surgery for about a year.

The latter types of therapies work in two ways. First, by binding to the HER2 receptors it “flags” them for destruction by the patient’s immune system. Next, it signals to HER2 receptors “downstream” from the one flagged that it needs to stop producing so many. Lapatanib works from inside the cell out, and herceptin from outside in, and both shrink the tumor (or so we hope!).

As I begin round two of my chemotherapy (weekly infusions of the drug Taxol) I’m also preparing to take one of the targeted therapies, lapatinib. This is part of a clinical trial, as the drug is only FDA approved for metastatic breast cancer at this point and they are researching if it works on in situ breast cancers as well. Both types of treatment provide the patient with all sorts of interesting side effects, from the really scary to the simply annoying. You’ll hear more about these soon.

Old Genes

2010-09-01T00:30:00.001-04:00

When my father was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma just over a year ago, I worked with a professor who said something along the lines of "if it's any consolation, remember that your father's genes are very old and they've survived for generations." It wasn't really a consolation, because at the time I had a bad feeling about my father's diagnosis, and about how far along the cancer actually was; it was aggressive and surgery revealed substantial tumor growth in his head and neck. As it turns out, my bad feelings were right, and now I am mourning his loss.

I recount this sentiment because a little over a year later I am facing a cancer diagnosis of my own. Mine isn't skin cancer, rather it's invasive ductal carcinoma, one of the most common and most treatable forms of breast cancer. I had a terrible feeling about the lump (which is why I went to the doctor) and about the biopsy. Once again, my intuition served me well, because I got the diagnosis I did not want, but was expecting. This time, those same words that professor thought may console me actually do bring me some comfort. They have me thinking about genes (cancerous ones in particular) and the fragility of life. And unlike the bad feelings I had about my father's diagnosis and my own, I do not have bad feelings about my outcome. That may be naive, but sometimes--especially in times like these--optimism is all you've got. My genes, in various forms, have been around for centuries, and even longer. Early versions existed eons and have been passed down through entire eras. Why shouldn't they serve me well?

Life is amazing when you think about it. We start out as a hollow ball of cells called a blastulae, and if somehow we make it through that simple, silly little stage without trouble and begin to differentiate, then hey, it's nothing short of a miracle. Next, as embryos, we traverse the dangerous terrain of development, where our growth and gene expression is finely tuned, thanks to millions of years of trial and error. And if we develop as planned by our DNA, our problems aren't over yet. So many things can go wrong during these stages, and if we are lucky enough to develop as specified in the DNA blueprints, we have to go out into the real world after birth, and that isn't easy either.

We get out into the world and are bombarded by chemicals and sunlight and hormones in our food. We dodge viruses and bacteria and microbes. During all of this it is business as usual at the cellular level. Signals tell the cells when to grow, how to grow and when to divide, when to die off. If you delve deeper, into the DNA, it becomes even more detailed.

The DNA double helix unwinds, the mRNA comes in to make a copy. It copies each base, or nucleotide, of the DNA one by one, and in the correct order. There are even checkpoints, like spell check or proofreading, to avoid errors. This is all built in to our bodies. The sequence of DNA nucleotides, the As, Ts, Gs and Cs, is what makes the cells what they are. The mRNA is then shuttled out of the nucleus into the cytoplasm of the cell. Once there, it is translated into the proteins which make up, well, everything in our bodies. This process is elegant, intricate, and stunning. Life goes on. But sometimes the chemicals, sunlight and viruses can cause changes in our DNA, called mutations. In the case of many cancers, it may be one slight change, as little as one nucleotide of DNA, and it is all different. A ball of cells will begin to form. They replicate themselves and grow and don't die when they should, and they stick close together like cliques in a high school cafeteria. They make a tumor. This ball of cells gone awry is what I'm planning to bring down. Beat. Survive.

Individually my cells are fragile. So very many things can go wrong and become the squeaky wheel in the well-oiled machine that is the human body. Conversely, so many things continue to go right, too, and life, in all it's fragile beauty, goes on as it should. I have faith that my body will continue on as it should, my DNA will copy and translate as it is supposed to, it will make the right protein at the right time, as these genes have been doing for eons. And I will survive.

Originally journaled 15 May 2010

Literate Scientist is taking a turn at being a patient.

2010-08-27T13:50:00.000-04:00

As most of you who visit my blog will know, I was diagnosed with breast cancer in May. I have wanted to write about my experiences since then, but being a doctoral student, dealing with medical appointments and chemotherapy, and trying to have some down time all kept me from doing so. And if I'm being completely honest, it's taken me this long to actually believe that I have cancer. I still have days when my mind reels at the fact that I'm in chemotherapy and that I'm facing more chemotherapy, plus radiation and surgery, after the first of the year. It is unbelievable, even though it is now part of my life.

My original idea for this blog was to write about scientific literacy (or the lack thereof) and intersperse those entries with interesting sciency information. However,
I'm changing the format for now. It's going to be a blog about having breast cancer and facing the disease head on. I'm going to be honest, and try to educate you in the process.

Everyone knows someone who has cancer. I do, and it was always something that happened to SOMEONE ELSE. Tragic, awful, and yes, heartbreaking. But now it's me, and that changes the story. Now I know what it's like to have drugs dripping into me, drugs that have warning labels on the packaging that warn you not to let it come into contact with your skin. Now I know what it's like to lose my hair. Now I know what it means to be a cancer patient. Now I'm going to share my experiences with you.

Snakehead Homework

2009-12-13T12:14:00.006-05:00

My dad gave me homework. He asked me to tell him all about snakeheads (Family Channidae) when I came down on Friday for a visit. So I did what any good daughter would do and I did a search on the greater snakehead fish (Channa micropeltes) and the northern snakehead fish (Channa argus). Turns out they are kinda cool, speaking from an ecological perspective.

They are part of a family of freshwater fish native to Asia, from China to India and down into the islands of Indonesia. There are also species native to Africa, but I don’t think those are the ones my dad heard about, as the hubbub here in the US is that they are invasive species.

Anatomically, the fish are unremarkable, with a long dorsal fin running most of the length of it’s back, and fan-shaped tail fins. Their heads are kind of flattened, I suppose like a snake head, and the mottled blotchy brown coloration reminds me of patterns on snakes bodies, like pythons or boa constrictors.

They grow quickly and can get quite large, as evidenced by this video courtesy of National Geographic.

Snakeheads were brought to America for food and as aquarium fish. However, as people are wont to do they release them in nearby ponds, rivers or streams when they get too large or they no longer need them, and the snakeheads settle and begin making more snakeheads.

They caused a stir in 2002 in Maryland, where an angler caught one in a pond. He took it to a local wildlife and fisheries office for identification. The authorities visited the pond and subsequently caught some hatchlings, indicating the population was well-established. This wouldn’t be such a problem, but the snakeheads are sneaky.

They are one of the few species of fish that need to breathe air. Yes, I said breathe, meaning they don’t use just their gills; they also have what is called a “suprabranchial organ”, which is a kind of a branch of their vascular system allowing them to oxygenate their blood via inhalation of atmospheric oxygen.

While snakeheads don’t actually walk, they do have a decidedly un-fishlike ability to scoot or flop themselves from one body of water to another. Thus, the concern of wildlife and fisheries agents.
There is plenty more I could say about invasive species but I think I should wait, or this will become a longwinded entry.

So, there you have it Dad, everything you wanted to know about snakeheads.

Warm Blooded Dinos?

2009-11-17T20:28:00.003-05:00

I am not a paleontologist, but I am a big fan of scientific controversy. I love it when two sides argue about how flight originated or how new fossils may be related to our own hominid lineage. That’s why the recent findings that large bi-pedal dinosaurs like the beloved Tyrannosaurus rex may not have the typical large lizards we have long thought really caught my attention.

It’s generally consensus these days that some dinosaurs were birds rather than lizards, and the lineage has been split to include non-avian and avian branches. But there is still controversy among experts as to whether or not these dinos were warm-blooded like their birdy brethren or cold-blooded like their lizardy links. A new study published in the online scientific journal PLoS ONE on Nov. 11th brings to light some new information.

Say the study authors, endothermy, or warm-bloodedness, was widespread “in at least larger non-avian dinosaurs.” The results of their study seem to indicate that the ability to maintain a constant internal temperature may have originated earlier than previously believed.

What this essentially means is that once again we are rethinking how these extinct giants behaved. For the longest time, large dinosaurs like the T-rex were considered unwieldy, hulking and awkward. Now there’s evidence that there was more power and precision behind their lumbering movements.

So why is this such a point of contention? Because being warm-blooded and cold-blooded are very different and require different energy expenditures, different rates of respiration, and different natural histories altogether.

Cold-blooded animals (termed ectothermic), such as amphibians, reptiles and the ilk, rely on the environment to maintain body heat. They generally adapt behaviors to soak up as much heat and sun as possible to run their metabolic processes.

Warm-blooded animals are everything else—including birds (or avian dinosaurs). We can maintain homeostasis (i.e., regulate and maintain a constant body temperature through metabolism). But doing this requires much more energy consumption and output, and requires different anatomical and physical traits. It also means we can live anywhere, hunt for food anytime, and not have to worry about the environment to meet our temperature regulation needs.

So the fact that there is evidence for endothermy among dinosaurs has huge ramifications. We may need to reconsider how we classify them, and even how they became extinct.

Reptiles, a lineage of animals dating back over 300 million years, include organisms such as the extinct dinosaurs and the extant (still living) species of lizards, crocodilians, turtles. It was later expanded to include birds, based on genetic and molecular evidence. These new findings could also lead to more accurate phylogenies, or evolutionary trees.

Your DNA damage looks great, did you get just get back from the beach?

2009-11-15T14:44:00.003-05:00

My students in Biology 101 are learning about DNA right now and one asked me how UV radiation causes damage to our genetic material. I know the basics, but was unfamiliar with the process. So I, of course, was intrigued, and had to look it up. Bear with me, I’ve tried to make this as simple and bare-bones as possible, so don’t let your eyes glaze over (like those of some of my students) when you see big scientific words.
DNA structure consists of a backbone molecule made up of sugar (a deoxyribose sugar, what the D in it’s name stands for) paired with phosphate molecules. Attached to each of those sugars is a nitrogenous base: adenine (A), thymine (T), guanine (G) or cytosine (C). It’s the complimentary pairing nature of these bases that allows for such perfect replication of our genetic material; A pairs with T, and G pairs with C, and that is what gives DNA it’s structure, chemical properties, and it’s ability to replicate so faithfully.
DNA replicates, or copies itself, in a process that is nothing short of amazing. The double-helix structure unwinds (with the help of an enzyme) and each parent strand is faithfully copied via complimentary base pairing. Throughout the process are “checkpoints” to prevent errors and proofreaders that won’t allow the DNA to code for protein unless things are correct.
Most DNA damage interferes with the ability to proofread or prevent incorrect proteins from being made, which is the case with UV radiation. UVB light causes one of the nitrogenous bases, thymine, to pair with itself instead of with adenine. These thymine base pairs next to each other in genetic sequences bond together into thymine dimers, an incorrect sequence which disrupts replication in the strand and which enzymes cannot read or copy. This leads to the production of melanin--a tan, or in severe cases, sunburn. Sunburn is the body’s way to get rid of cells damaged by UV radiation.
Direct DNA damage is reduced by sunscreen, which prevents sunburn; it won’t necessarily keep you from getting a tan. On the skin’s surface, sunscreen filters the UV-rays, decreasing their intensity. When sunscreen molecules penetrate the skin, they protect against direct DNA damage because the UV-light is then absorbed by the sunscreen and not by DNA.
So, that beautiful golden color you get when you lay out in the sun, the one you think makes you look so good? Yeah, not so good. That damage accumulates in your DNA, and over time can lead to skin cancer.
We do need some sun, so I’m not advocating staying inside on beautiful afternoons, just be careful and use sunscreen to decrease your risks of skin cancer.

Fueling my new obsession with mitochondira

2009-03-09T20:16:00.004-04:00

I'm currently reading a fabulous book that I found just laying all by it's lonesome (i.e., in the wrong place) in Barne's and Noble a couple of weeks ago. It's entitled Power, Sex, and Suicide (now do you see why I had to have it?). And, if a fabulous title isn't enough it's about my newest favorite organelle--the mitochondria.
Dr. Nick Lane, a British science writer, does a very admirable job with this subject, especially in light of all the research being done in this area. Unfortunately, I am not very far along in the book, but it's one of those I can't put down so far. It's interesting and inspiring (as a wanna be science writer), as Lane says things like "the living cell is a minute universe" (p. 8) and he calls mitochondria the "clandestine rulers of the world" (introduction). I love these descriptions!
As I get further in to it, I will share more, but I wanted to share the title and the fact that it's a good read, at least thus far.

Thesis writing

2009-02-23T12:34:00.004-05:00

So the time is coming up fast for me to have a thesis written for my master's degree. Bah. I'm not so sure I can do this. Oh, yeah, a year or two ago I was all gung ho and "I'm gonna be a science writer" and now that it's time to begin actually writing, and querying and publishing, I'm chickening out.

I have my classes under my belt, and though it was not a traditional education, I feel quite well educated through the ILPS program at Antioch McGregor. (Don't get me started on them, I will digress quite a while and wax poetic about their virtues.) I'm scared, though, because not only do I need to live up to their standards, I have to live up to mine.

I feel a little like Charlie Brown just as he gets ready to run toward Lucy holding the football.

Doomed to a life of questioning everything

2008-05-16T15:48:00.001-04:00

As a skeptic, the grassroots movement that espouses creation ‘science’ has what I believe are many flaws, probably equal to the gaps in evolutionary theory that creationists see. Chet Raymo, in his eloquent and subtle Skeptics and True Believers, explains both of these views. The two poles he describes fit well into the two niches of the creation and evolution debate, and I agree that it comes down to this: “It is not so much a matter of evidence as attitudes toward evidence. The astrologer and the scientist have different criteria for the truth—one anecdotal and personal, the other empirical and institutional” (87). One believes what they read is true, the other questions everything, “[t]there are people who prefer that things remain the same; there are people who like change” (137). I would argue, though, that instead of categorizing these two groups as “reactionaries and progressives” you could call them the creationists and the evolutionists (or perhaps scientists is a better, more all-encompassing term). These two views are characterized well in the two-model approach to the world espoused by this grassroots movement.
This approach sees things in only black and white, leaving out any possibility of an intermediate explanation. Creationists must discredit Charles Darwin, because when they do so it will prove special creation was the answer all along. But, they’re forgetting that there are fellow Christians that believe in theistic evolution, or that there are many other creation myths that could also be the answer. The academic freedom ID proponents are so fond of demanding would include these intermediate believes as well as the two extremes, and it would still include evolution. This argument is a categorical error; just because they believe it, doesn’t make it true. If you don’t believe in gravity, you don’t fall off the earth.
This mistake also plays out in the media representation of this debate. When reporters search for balanced treatment in stories concerning evolution, they alternately portray ID or creation ‘science,’ forgetting, or maybe not knowing, that the two are not scientifically equal. The politicization of this debate makes this sort of equal treatment unique to this subject, however, because you rarely see alternatives given when the report discusses quantum theory, astronomy, or thermodynamics. Raymo makes a valid point when he mentions that scientists are often inept at communicating their craft, at making clear why their research is important, or more specifically portraying it as important to humans and what we value. Humans want to know what science will be doing for them, despite the conflict this creates with their belief systems: “we warmly embrace the technological and medical fruits of science, but often hold religious beliefs that stand in flat-out contradiction to the scientific way of knowing” (7). Perhaps scientists, educators and the media need to focus on this way of knowing and give it the fair treatment that it so deserves rather than endlessly addressing the two extremes.
This may not happen though, as conflict is one of the best story-telling techniques, so comparing evolution and creationism, pitting Raymo’s Skeptics against his True Believers, makes for great copy. I would certainly agree when it comes to the books Summer for the Gods (Edward Larson, Basic Books, 1997) and Monkey Girl (Edward Humes, Ecco Books, 2007). This is an epic battle and portrayals of the players create ensuing conflict—it’s a writer’s dream, imaginations couldn’t come up with fodder this good. The nature of the two arguments, though, makes this an unending battle. Its like one is in fact imagination, the other truth; one has eons of believe on its side and the other centuries of empirical evidence. They argue apples and oranges, tom-ae-to/tom-ah-to, anthropocentric views versus natural phenomena. Most scientists (and most creationists too, I assume) don’t see how the two sides can reconcile, though Raymo has constructed a strong argument: “[n]one of the miracles I have been offered in my religious training were as impressively revealing of God’s power as the facts I was learning in science” (20). It should be the duty of scientists and the media (science writers, particularly) to convey these revealing facts, to foster understanding, to unearth this middle ground between the two approaches.
Raymo compares quantum physics to magic, miracles. I would have to disagree; nature is so much more extraordinary than any magic I have ever seen, and the explanations behind her phenomena so much more fantastic than any secrets magicians hide behind their capes. So, for me at least, a way of knowing the world is more incredible than any of the mere beliefs I have tried to understand, because “everything wonderful need not be true” (137). Even if it’s not true it can still be wonderful, you don’t have to disprove truth to convince someone of wonder.

Putting the "controversy" in context. Or not.

2008-04-28T11:41:00.002-04:00

America wouldn’t be America without the freedoms it affords its citizens. This adage has been used to describe our country probably since its inception, and I doubt that anyone would argue this point with Ben Stein. After seeing his new documentary “Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed”, however, that may be the only unarguable point. I admit that as a zoologist and science enthusiast, I was biased going into the film, and I knew that it would get my hackles up. What surprised me though was that I found myself upset not just for the scientists that the film misrepresents—I expected that—but for someone who spends most of the movie preaching about freedom and free speech, Stein edited a lot of important information out of his film. For someone who espouses a movement asking for “equal time” for a religious theory in the science classroom he sure didn’t give science equal time in a movie to promote a religious theory. Not that I expected him to do so.

I could go on ad nauseum with my criticisms of this film, and my critiques of the standard anti-evolution arguments would take up pages themselves. I will leave that for another time, since they are becoming cliché anyhow. I have other criticisms, too, such as Stein’s stylistic choices. The footage of concentration camps and the Berlin Wall being erected as backdrops for his introduction to the “debate” were a bit overblown and, frankly, they aren’t fair comparisons, which becomes clear as the film drones on. The snippets of 1950’s propaganda films taken out of context between interviews with scientists made me weary. The references to the first amendment grew tiresome. The whining about the “witch hunt” that about a dozen scientists and journalists have had to endure—plus the “many more” who conveniently refused to speak on camera for fear of repercussions—was a purely rhetorical move to convince people who already believe that this battle between religion and science is proof of coming Armageddon. However, what I take most issue with is how a majority of those interviewed, as well as most of the arguments posed in the film, are out of context. Not that I didn’t expect this to be the case.

Stein interviews many scientists, including some who believe in Intelligent Design. He whines for them and with them about the persecution they have had to endure when they have tried to present ID research to scientific journals. Their articles aren’t accepted or printed, they were fired, they are now “black-listed”. This looks, to the casual or uneducated observer, like an injustice, like the big bad scientists are picking on the creationists yet again, but it is—shock!—taken out of context. What he predictably leaves out of these discussions is the fact that the research these scientists were presenting wasn’t science, and for that matter, he never explains why ID proponents think they have a scientific argument.

Stein also interviews evolutionary biologists and experts like Eugenie Scott from the National Center for Science Education (NCSE: www.ncseweb.org/). He allows them to explain that evolution by natural selection is a fact, but doesn’t let them describe that a fact in science has an airtight argument to support it, including empirical evidence that has been replicated in many experiments. He lets them try to explain the basics of the theory, but not the connotations that word carries in the scientific community. Stein even corners several scientists into saying that the more they learned about the theory of natural selection the less they believed in a creator. Scientists, by Stein’s conclusion (based on the 3-4 scientists who admitted this) are anti-God.

I expected to be irritated by the same tired arguments against evolution, the anti-atheistic attacks by the ID proponents, and even expected the scientists and science itself to be misrepresented. However, I was surprised by the misrepresentation of ID as well.

Perhaps misrepresentation is an overstatement, since the basis of the theory was never really elucidated from creationism. The chief experts on this position are The Discovery Institute in Seattle, WA, a “non-partisan public policy think-tank conducting research on technology, science and culture, economics, and foreign affairs” (www.discovery.org). They were key players in the anti-evolution court challenges in recent years, including the highly publicized Dover, PA trial. The crux of their “evidence” for an intelligent designer is the irreducible complexity in life and they are usually careful refer to this individual as a designer. It has always been my understanding that ID proponents work diligently to avoid using the terms Creator or creationism, so either that has changed or Stein is misrepresenting them as well. My friend, a non-scientist—yet not particularly religious either, said that she didn’t know much about ID going into the film, and she guessed she didn’t know much about it afterward. I actually felt myself getting angry for the Discovery Institute, who didn’t seem to get much face time in a movie based on ID. I most certainly did not expect this.

Despite the conclusions based on too-small sample size, the comparisons of scientists to Hitler, or the misrepresentation of the positions, I left the theatre less exasperated than I expected. I rolled my eyes at Stein’s inane attempts at humor, scoffed at his incessant whining, and all the while a Latin phrase was looping through my head: res ipsa loquitur (1). The movie wasn’t an attempt to explain the misunderstood underdogs who believe in Intelligent Design. Instead, like the propaganda films that act as filler and a poor attempt at humor, it was Stein’s diatribe against the establishment; a film meant to rally support from those who already see the world this way. Stein made a point of reiterating that America is free, there is freedom of speech and freedom of religion and freedom of press. He criticizes the scientific discipline for not letting people speak, but he leaves out the most important part: they weren’t speaking science. He should have worried less about the religious affiliations of scientists and more about how he looks like a hypocrite for editing the speakers in his own film. But really, in this never-ending argument between the natural and the supernatural, the believers and the non-believers, the thinkers and the non-thinkers, isn’t this to be expected?

1This literally means, "the thing itself speaks" but in general is translated "the thing speaks for itself" (www.wikipedia.com).

Raising my game

2008-04-28T11:39:00.002-04:00

When I tell people that I my master’s degree will be in science writing, many ask what I will do with such an education. I often have difficulty answering, because, ironically, I have trouble articulating exactly what this degree means for me. Science is a passion for me; I left a successful career to earn a degree in zoology. However, it doesn’t interest other people as much, often because they don’t understand it or think they won’t (in that sense it’s like me with calculus). So, if I had to pinpoint what exactly it is I want this master’s education for it would be to learn how to write about science for non-scientists—for those people who think they will never understand it so they don’t try. This is a difficult endeavor, as not only do you have to know the science, but you have to walk the fine line between laying out basic facts in an interesting manner and “luring readers to raise their games” (Quammen 2004.).

I believe that one of the major problems with this task is the fact that many scientists, just like a majority of the general public, don’t know the history of the field. They also don’t understand the overlap not just between the sciences, but also between science and the humanities (which E.O. Wilson deftly tackles in Consilience, his thin volume on the continuum between arts, humanities and natural science). I’m learning that I too succumb to this ignorance. Fortunately, my graduate program requires me to design my own curriculum, and I chose this course in the history of science and scientific thinking to begin my credits. We do students—all students, not just undergraduate science majors—a disservice by not offering such a course.

With recent statistics such as nearly half of Americans not understanding, or wanting to learn about, evolution, Robin Dunbar is correct when he titled his book The Trouble with Science. He was also on target when, in the introduction, he said: “it seem to me that all these different phenomena share a common element: an information gap of disastrous proportions. Neither the proverbial man-in-the-street nor…views in the humanities have any real understanding of what scientists do or how science works” (Dunbar 7).

Dunbar spends his 189 pages outlining what he believes are the problems with science, but I think he has left out crucial parts of the equation. He rehashes old arguments that science is “spiritually corrosive” and that it “cannot really co-exist with anything” (9). He briefly discusses a history of the field, but in discussing how to define science, he loses me when he says that Newton didn’t do science when he developed the law of gravity. His reason? Because according to what we know now, Newton’s theories don’t tell us anything. To me, this is taking it out of context, because we have the ability to learn so much more today, with the help of supercomputers and electron microscopes and a myriad of other technologies that weren’t around when Newton was developing his theory, simply trying to explain the natural world. I have been trying to pinpoint just why Dunbar’s argument here is fallacious, but I am falling short, perhaps because it is just not a good argument.

Dunbar goes on to discuss the roots of science, or rather, if other species do “cookbook science.” Indeed, he is correct when he says that “being able to predict what is going to happen in order to be able to act in an appropriate way at the right moment is fundamental to survival” (58). However, I’m not convinced by his obtuse examples that what he describes isn’t just based in genetics, or that the behaviors don’t stem from adaptations in order to deal with the environment and simply survive. Certainly all animals make connections and learn these connections, which would behoove the animal if s/he wants to get her/his genes into the next generation—that’s survival. Science is a way of thinking, and I am not saying we are the only species to think this way, but it’s anthropomorphic to compare a way of thinking to the formal practice of science in which we engage. I do agree, “children behave as natural scientists,” though, especially because of the implications that has for education (particularly science education, which in our country is under duress at the moment) (114).

Dunbar also makes me long for the days when, like when Darwin was published, the “public at large” read his work, as well academics in non-science disciplines (135). It seems today, from the standpoint of science writers at least, that the public is only interested in specific stories: anecdotes about humans and animals interacting, medical mysteries, controversies and their backlashes, or science that only has personal relevance. How many people actually know the causes and rates of global warming? How many know how stem cells are really made, and how such research is conducted? My guess is not many, and in today’s world it is more important than ever to understand science and technology; nearly every aspect of our lives is affected.
I bring up the critiques of Dunbar’s book not because I think I can do better, but because if he lost me, someone who wants to read about the history of science and the intricacies of the discipline, he would lose other readers, and all of the points he made successfully will be wasted. Part of learning to be a good writer is honing the art of reading. I’m learning what to do in order to perfect my writing (insofar as one can perfect anything) while I am learning equally invaluable, possibly more valuable, lessons from the books that didn’t speak to me. Joan Didion has been quoted as saying she writes for the “woman on the bus.” It is she, as well as the “proverbial man-in-the-street” that science writers need to reach in order to educate the public at large, not just the people who already know how it works (7). As E.O. Wilson said, “science should be poetry, poetry science” (in Consilience).

Dunbar, Robin. 1995. The Trouble with Science. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 213 pages.

Quammen, David. 2004. “Was Darwin Wrong?” National Geographic, November 2004.

Wilson, E.O. 1998. Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge. New York, N.Y.: Vintage Books. 355 pages.

Raising my

2008-04-28T11:39:00.001-04:00

What a great ad!

2008-04-22T21:21:00.005-04:00

Trying to be a science writer

2008-04-21T02:12:00.000-04:00

Everyone who knows me knows I am a voracious reader. At any given time I can have anywhere from two to five or so books in progress, though I am sure there are times that the number is higher. These books can cover subjects as diverse as macroevolution in the mammalian lineage, the evolutionary basis for play behavior in animals, or whatever organism I happen to be obsessed with that week. They cover history, literary periods like the Harlem Renaissance and non-fiction essays on anything from atheism to theology. I immerse myself in novels and often have to make deals with myself to read a certain number of books before I buy more. It rarely works.

Everyone who knows me knows I am passionate about science. I left a successful social work career in order to pursue my curiosity, and after finally getting a bachelor's in zoology I surprised many people by entering graduate school for science writing. It didn't surprise me at all, as writing is a natural extension of reading, and I love to share my opinions, whether or not anyone wants to listen.

Most wanted to know why I didn't just go to graduate school for science. There are academic reasons, like the fact that I can't pass calculus to save my life, but I found the perfect answer in Natalie Angier's book The Canon: A Whirligig Tour of the Basics of Science (2007, Houghton Mifflin):

"...What's your point with these intellectual hybridization experiments, anyway?"

"I don't know," I said. "I like science. I trust it. It makes me feel optimistic. It adds rigor to my life."

He asked why I didn't just become a scientist. I told him I didn't want to ruin a beautiful affair by getting married. Besides, I wouldn't be a very good scientist, and I knew it.

So you'll be a professional dilettante, he said.

Close enough. I became a science writer. (page 4)

So Ms. Angier was a writing student with a science obsession, whereas I was a science student with a writing obsession. I couldn't have said it better myself, and no one who knows me would argue with the fact that I want to be a "professional dilettante" (though most would probably insert the word "student" for "dilettante"). So here I am , trying to be a science writer.

Correction

2008-04-20T23:13:00.000-04:00

I need to correct the title of the book in my last post. As I was putting it back on the shelf, I realized I got the subtitle incorrect. It should read The Canon: A Whirligig Tour of the Beautiful Basics of Science.