The chair of my committee, with whom I am required to clear thesis scheduling, has a defect in the email-responding portion of his brain. I have been waiting a week to hear from him. I appreciate that becoming pregnant was my choice and so on, but they are much more accommodating if, say, one must leave town by a certain date. I am nearly ready to take Belle up on her offer to hunt down his office and apply violence.
However! I re-sent my aggressive scheduling email ("Schedule my thesis defense or I will scream my HEAD off; I am bloody well done, done done DONE, also do you want to read my boring thesis?"), I sent a copy to my former boss. He replied, "Let me know if you don't hear back and I will track him down."
Hallelujah.
Of course, he also asked if I had a newer version of my thesis to send him...
...ah, no. I have four pounds of baby kicking me and a full-time job, is what I have.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Bleeeeeeargh
Nasty sinus infection, building for three weeks into agony and headache. (Thank you, suppressed immune response.)
5 degrees below zero.
Argument with HR over consequences of maternity leave for various employment timelines. Possibility they are being discriminatory. Possibility I will have to go nuclear on them. (Don't want to, but oh, believe me, I will.)
Leg cramp at 4 AM.
Baby keeps kicking me in the OWWWWWW.
Waaaaah.
5 degrees below zero.
Argument with HR over consequences of maternity leave for various employment timelines. Possibility they are being discriminatory. Possibility I will have to go nuclear on them. (Don't want to, but oh, believe me, I will.)
Leg cramp at 4 AM.
Baby keeps kicking me in the OWWWWWW.
Waaaaah.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Pumpkin-shaped and Thesular
30 weeks: and way more impressive from the side. This is the only garment I have that I still actually like. Pregnancy clothes have nothing to recommend them.
(Please ignore where I spilled water down my dress.)
Am trying not to have paranoid fears about weight gain, which mainly make me unhappy, because it's not like I'm going to stop eating, is it now?
Thesis defense is being scheduled for late February (oops... January already happened) . Hurrah! Hurrah! This is made unwontedly complicated by my thesis committee chair's desire to, perhaps, have another meeting- with my thesis, but necessarily without me - or perhaps with my paper manuscript, but without me- before... scheduling a defense? Before me defending? On the grounds that it is, and I quote, "what we always do." Except, you see, the thesis and the paper aren't quite done. They will be in two weeks. And I need to buy a plane ticket NOW NOW NOW. Must try to call Monday.
I also had a thrilling interchange with a) my advisor; b) the department's Controller Of All Things Graduate and c) via (b), with the department's Faculty Controller Of All Things Graduate. The conclusion was that 1: the department has no guidelines on paper submission before or after defending and 2: as a result, your committee can screw you over whichever way they please. Lovely.
Like most of grad school, it didn't have to be this hard.
(Please ignore where I spilled water down my dress.)
Am trying not to have paranoid fears about weight gain, which mainly make me unhappy, because it's not like I'm going to stop eating, is it now?
Thesis defense is being scheduled for late February (oops... January already happened) . Hurrah! Hurrah! This is made unwontedly complicated by my thesis committee chair's desire to, perhaps, have another meeting- with my thesis, but necessarily without me - or perhaps with my paper manuscript, but without me- before... scheduling a defense? Before me defending? On the grounds that it is, and I quote, "what we always do." Except, you see, the thesis and the paper aren't quite done. They will be in two weeks. And I need to buy a plane ticket NOW NOW NOW. Must try to call Monday.
I also had a thrilling interchange with a) my advisor; b) the department's Controller Of All Things Graduate and c) via (b), with the department's Faculty Controller Of All Things Graduate. The conclusion was that 1: the department has no guidelines on paper submission before or after defending and 2: as a result, your committee can screw you over whichever way they please. Lovely.
Like most of grad school, it didn't have to be this hard.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Five Reasons I Hate My Neighbors
1. They smoke. All the time. Right below our living room window. (Note to self: Never again rent an apartment unless it specifies non-smoking.)
2. They have loud conversations outside until 4 AM. They play loud thumpy music at all hours. They play all movies and games turned up to 11.
3. They have screaming arguments at 1 AM. (Note: ever since I called the cops that one time, has been better...)
4. Really they are just jackasses. Evidence: they do not answer the door at 2 pm on Saturday when we wish to ask them, politely, to shut the fuck up already.
5. And most of all, because due to all this, we'll probably have to move in May. The two of us and our little baby. Hurrah hurrah.
Why? Why are they so annoying?
2. They have loud conversations outside until 4 AM. They play loud thumpy music at all hours. They play all movies and games turned up to 11.
3. They have screaming arguments at 1 AM. (Note: ever since I called the cops that one time, has been better...)
4. Really they are just jackasses. Evidence: they do not answer the door at 2 pm on Saturday when we wish to ask them, politely, to shut the fuck up already.
5. And most of all, because due to all this, we'll probably have to move in May. The two of us and our little baby. Hurrah hurrah.
Why? Why are they so annoying?
Friday, January 16, 2009
In Which I Learn To Sail A Bicycle
The company for which I work makes, let's say, bicycles. They hire many bicycle mechanics, mechanical engineers, and professional bicycle riders. The astute among you will note that this has nothing to do with bricks or the building trades in general. Therefore, I am being trained.
The first week was devoted to preliminaries. "These are the parts of a bicycle!" they said brightly. They showed videos of people riding bicycles, making bicycles, and competing in bicycle sports. There were sessions on where to buy a bicycle, where to find information about parts, and who to call should one's work-issued bicycle suddenly fall apart.
The second week, they sat me on a bicycle with two large wings attached to the frame, handed me a manual that began "Insert Wing A into Gearset B", and threw me into a very large lake. "Sail across! You have three weeks!" they said brightly.
Those persons who had worked on bikes before set their wings to a complicated paddle/ sail configuration, and are now halfway across the lake doing curlicues. My week was more like this:
Day 1: Begin to sink. Paddle with hands. Sink anyways. Read rapidly through manual. Understand one word in three.
Day 2: Convince wings to do a doggy-paddle. Half of co-workers have now made their bikes sail. Wonder why wings have frills on edges, and how to remove. Not in manual.
Day 3: Paddle frantically. Flip through manual. Sink to bottom of lake. Come home and cry for an hour. Consider career change.
Day 4: Get to work at 7 AM. Re-read manual. Re-attach wings eighteen times. Nearly sink to floor weeping. Very nice co-worker comes along, shows how to attach wings properly, then demonstrates backstroke. Make it a good 200 feet across lake. Consider kissing co-worker from enormous near-tears gratitude, but instead offer to bake cookies as otherwise, might frighten the nice man.
Day 5: Now only a full day behind everyone else! Wave feebly to instructor. Try to catch up.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Did I mention the part where I've been getting up at 6 every morning to finish writing my paper and thesis? Or the part where, despite my having completed all the requirements for graduation, my ex-boss will not let me set a defense date?
Or the part where I'm trying to decide whether to stick that fork in my eye or his?
The first week was devoted to preliminaries. "These are the parts of a bicycle!" they said brightly. They showed videos of people riding bicycles, making bicycles, and competing in bicycle sports. There were sessions on where to buy a bicycle, where to find information about parts, and who to call should one's work-issued bicycle suddenly fall apart.
The second week, they sat me on a bicycle with two large wings attached to the frame, handed me a manual that began "Insert Wing A into Gearset B", and threw me into a very large lake. "Sail across! You have three weeks!" they said brightly.
Those persons who had worked on bikes before set their wings to a complicated paddle/ sail configuration, and are now halfway across the lake doing curlicues. My week was more like this:
Day 1: Begin to sink. Paddle with hands. Sink anyways. Read rapidly through manual. Understand one word in three.
Day 2: Convince wings to do a doggy-paddle. Half of co-workers have now made their bikes sail. Wonder why wings have frills on edges, and how to remove. Not in manual.
Day 3: Paddle frantically. Flip through manual. Sink to bottom of lake. Come home and cry for an hour. Consider career change.
Day 4: Get to work at 7 AM. Re-read manual. Re-attach wings eighteen times. Nearly sink to floor weeping. Very nice co-worker comes along, shows how to attach wings properly, then demonstrates backstroke. Make it a good 200 feet across lake. Consider kissing co-worker from enormous near-tears gratitude, but instead offer to bake cookies as otherwise, might frighten the nice man.
Day 5: Now only a full day behind everyone else! Wave feebly to instructor. Try to catch up.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Did I mention the part where I've been getting up at 6 every morning to finish writing my paper and thesis? Or the part where, despite my having completed all the requirements for graduation, my ex-boss will not let me set a defense date?
Or the part where I'm trying to decide whether to stick that fork in my eye or his?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Ask A Scientist: Hair Loss (Alopecia Areata)
By request, I present a brief review of alopecia areata, also known as AAAAAGH!!!! My hair is falling out for no reason!!.
First, let me present you with a confusing medical fact: there is a poor distinction between a 'syndrome' and a 'disease'. Generally speaking, a syndrome is a collection of symptoms. Chronic fatigue syndrome is an example: it is a condition defined largely by how people feel, rather than a specific etiology (cause). A disease is (or should be) something with a well-known cause. Ebola virus is a disease. Wilson Disease, whose genetic cause is known, is a disease. AIDS is called 'immune deficiency syndrome,' but in fact the etiology, the HIV virus, is well known; it would, in my opinion, better be called a disease, but historical inertia prevents this.
At the same time, a lot of things with vague diagnoses are also 'diseases.' Graves' disease, for example, is caused by an autoimmune response to the thyroid. But what causes the immune problem to start with? Who knows.
Alopecia is something like this. It is defined as* hair loss with T-cell infiltration (a type of white blood cell).
Now let me give you my completely Mickey-Mouse-level understanding of autoimmunity:
According to several papers, up to 90% of alopecia patients have antibodies to hair follicles or hair proteins in their blood. This means that a B cell has to have been stimulated to produce antibody.
I don't know where the original antigen came from. When cells die in a 'pre-programmed' way (this is called apopotosis; it's natural when cells come to the end of their lifetimes or meet various kinds of trauma or... etc.) they blob off into little bits which are supposed to be eaten up by the body's internal vacuum system. Maybe some of them escape. Who knows.
The main problem in autoimmune diseases is, there shouldn't be anything there to react to bits-o'-body. But there is. As our understanding of what to do to the immune system to make it better is largely at a throwing-rocks level, the treatments for autoimmune diseases are, almost universally, immune suppression.
A relatively recent article in NEJM* suggests that injected steroids can benefit many patients. Small volumes are injected all over the affected area; in a few weeks (possibly due to hair life cycle?) hair may start to grow. Side effects, as with all steroids, include skin effects; usually the dose is too small to get many systemic effects. This treatment can be done with or without minoxidil. Side effects commonly include unwanted facial hair growth, either because it gets rubbed off onto a pillow, or because the face is, after all, near the scalp.
Several studies, which I am too lazy to link, suggest that topical steroids have little effect, but people do it anyways because it's cheap and relatively low-risk.
A meta-analysis* has also been done on all known double-blind studies. They conclude that no treatment is particularly effective and one might as well do nothing, or something equally depressing. However, meta-analyses are always tricky to interpret. They are comparing dozens of unrelated studies by criteria that may not have even been measured in the original study. In this one, they are defining clinical success as 50% hair regrowth. The authors note that patient satisfaction might have been a better, if less scientific, measure.
Interestingly, persons with other immune conditions- eczema, allergies, thyroid problems- are more likely to experience alopecia areata at some point. Some people theorize that this connection is indicative of a common genetic cause: something is slightly wonky in the MHC alleles (if you don't know what these are, trust me, you don't want to) and it manifests itself as various small problems. This makes sense, but is hard to test because who wants to fund hair loss? That's right. Nobody.
*Subscription on most articles; contact me if you want a copy.
First, let me present you with a confusing medical fact: there is a poor distinction between a 'syndrome' and a 'disease'. Generally speaking, a syndrome is a collection of symptoms. Chronic fatigue syndrome is an example: it is a condition defined largely by how people feel, rather than a specific etiology (cause). A disease is (or should be) something with a well-known cause. Ebola virus is a disease. Wilson Disease, whose genetic cause is known, is a disease. AIDS is called 'immune deficiency syndrome,' but in fact the etiology, the HIV virus, is well known; it would, in my opinion, better be called a disease, but historical inertia prevents this.
At the same time, a lot of things with vague diagnoses are also 'diseases.' Graves' disease, for example, is caused by an autoimmune response to the thyroid. But what causes the immune problem to start with? Who knows.
Alopecia is something like this. It is defined as* hair loss with T-cell infiltration (a type of white blood cell).
Now let me give you my completely Mickey-Mouse-level understanding of autoimmunity:
T cells react to antigens- short bits of protein- but only when these bits of protein have been chewed up and 'presented' on the surface of other cells. So for T cells to be in the scalp, they have to be reacting to a secondary stimulus: another cell has to have, wrongly, recognized a hair protein as foreign. (There is a complicated process of selection which is supposed to kill off all your immune cells that would recognize and attack bits of your body. Obviously, every so often something goes wrong.)Now back to alopecia.
B cells (another kind of white blood cell) start their life with an antibody stuck to their surface. (They are also selected to not attack one's own body.) When the antibody meets something it recognizes, it gloms onto it. Then it eats it along with its antibody. Then it chews it up and goes and shows it to a T cell. Lots of complicated things then happen, including that you get more T and B cells that specifically recognize that antigen. Some of the B cells become a new and exciting kind of B cell that secretes, or puts out, antibodies of various kinds.
According to several papers, up to 90% of alopecia patients have antibodies to hair follicles or hair proteins in their blood. This means that a B cell has to have been stimulated to produce antibody.
I don't know where the original antigen came from. When cells die in a 'pre-programmed' way (this is called apopotosis; it's natural when cells come to the end of their lifetimes or meet various kinds of trauma or... etc.) they blob off into little bits which are supposed to be eaten up by the body's internal vacuum system. Maybe some of them escape. Who knows.
The main problem in autoimmune diseases is, there shouldn't be anything there to react to bits-o'-body. But there is. As our understanding of what to do to the immune system to make it better is largely at a throwing-rocks level, the treatments for autoimmune diseases are, almost universally, immune suppression.
A relatively recent article in NEJM* suggests that injected steroids can benefit many patients. Small volumes are injected all over the affected area; in a few weeks (possibly due to hair life cycle?) hair may start to grow. Side effects, as with all steroids, include skin effects; usually the dose is too small to get many systemic effects. This treatment can be done with or without minoxidil. Side effects commonly include unwanted facial hair growth, either because it gets rubbed off onto a pillow, or because the face is, after all, near the scalp.
Several studies, which I am too lazy to link, suggest that topical steroids have little effect, but people do it anyways because it's cheap and relatively low-risk.
A meta-analysis* has also been done on all known double-blind studies. They conclude that no treatment is particularly effective and one might as well do nothing, or something equally depressing. However, meta-analyses are always tricky to interpret. They are comparing dozens of unrelated studies by criteria that may not have even been measured in the original study. In this one, they are defining clinical success as 50% hair regrowth. The authors note that patient satisfaction might have been a better, if less scientific, measure.
Interestingly, persons with other immune conditions- eczema, allergies, thyroid problems- are more likely to experience alopecia areata at some point. Some people theorize that this connection is indicative of a common genetic cause: something is slightly wonky in the MHC alleles (if you don't know what these are, trust me, you don't want to) and it manifests itself as various small problems. This makes sense, but is hard to test because who wants to fund hair loss? That's right. Nobody.
*Subscription on most articles; contact me if you want a copy.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
In Which I Am Tired, And Feel Bulbous
Whether from pregnancy specifically, or just from a general dear-heavens-it's-icy lack of exercise, I am quite out of breath after two flights of stairs. And my current shape most closely resembles a gourd.
Whiiiiine.
Whiiiiine.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Survived, With Eyes Intact
I have survived my first day at work. For obvious reasons, I don't plan to write about it in detail, but suffice it to say that the first week of my training regimen already makes me want to poke my own eyes out from boredom. Today mainly consisted of things that either a) I already knew or b) could have been summarized in five minutes and a two-page bulleted list.
My co-workers - the ones I'll actually be working with - seem to be nice, normal, smart people who also are dying of boredom. (One today: "You could always clutch your stomach and rush out." Me: "I'm saving it for when I'm really bored." Co-worker: "You mean... you aren't yet???")
Also, I get an office, though I have to share for a little while. I plan to refer to everyone's offices as 'nerd boxes.'
And that is all I will say about work.
Must! Write! Rest of thesis! Aaaaagh!
My co-workers - the ones I'll actually be working with - seem to be nice, normal, smart people who also are dying of boredom. (One today: "You could always clutch your stomach and rush out." Me: "I'm saving it for when I'm really bored." Co-worker: "You mean... you aren't yet???")
Also, I get an office, though I have to share for a little while. I plan to refer to everyone's offices as 'nerd boxes.'
And that is all I will say about work.
Must! Write! Rest of thesis! Aaaaagh!
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