There have been people who've been directed to this blog from google search results for phrases containing the word '5HT'. Folks, sorry....it's just a name that occurred to me while creating the blog.
With the meta-analysis published in the PLoS taking a symbol of hope away from ironically those wanting hope-help-worth, I expect more people to be misdirected to this blog. Sorry again.
But I do feel amazed that the symbolic blue white capsule had given hope to so many who had lost it all, when it was no more than just a placebo.Or so they say.If anything it is a tribute to the powers of placebo therapy. Shrinks will argue about anecdotal cases of miraculous recovery, those who have recovered will swear by it really being the feel good pill.But in the hard unforgiving world of show-me-the-figures, prozac draws a null.
I have always been surprised that drug trials when comparing an outcome between a test drug and placebo always show nonzero results with placebo. The opioid theory is understandable for nontangible outcomes where there is a human element involved or symptomatic relief is sought, but not where there are hard quantifiable objective outcomes.
That placebo is not superior to no treatment was elucidated well in this great piece in the NEJM.The authors however agreed that when subjective or non continuous outcomes were analyzed then placebo did make a difference. Here we can discern the difference between the "science" and the "art" of medicine.For the individual patient feeling good is not the same as a clean coronary on cath. Just as a clean coronary does not mean end of therapy. How many busy cardiologists can claim to successfully treat such a patient? If your jeera goli homeopathy can succeed in that, then all the figures can go screw a hyena.
Ain't I talking like a GP?
Happiness was just about feeling happy
T'was not "not feeling sad"
The they made a pill to make you happy
Now it really doesn't work,..aw!! thats really just so bad!!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
This too shall pass
There was a time when I would spend all my time in just reading. I never felt guilty of not doing anything in life but reading. Then life was not stressed with things like a stable bank balance, settling in life and all that jag. Pages after voluminous pages of Harrison/Nelson were guzzled like some maniac Oktoberfest OCD. Private practice was a sinful abomination, and the GP was then what one should not be like- mediocre depraved cold cough remedier of Multivit A to Z school of medicine, coached by cravatted dumb-em- down Med reps and slaves to the Pharma dementors.
The essence of existence then was to dream, close eyes and float spenta amertal on raf kinases propelled nanomotors, hiking through TyKs seeking all that is new and unique, and catchy, perhaps contorted- looking for the rare syndrome, the gestalt agglomeration that stretched the limits of your associative memory – Tore Solente Gole or Rubenstein Taybi , LEOPARD, LAMB/NAME. and all that fancy pansy orgiastic quasi-intellectualism. What was the motivation to hoard so much ‘knowledge’? It was a phase where the more you know/memorise, the more successful you were. The secondary gain ( should be primary gain??-perhaps??) of this cannabinoidated phase of life, was learning how to read, what to gain beyond mere pages of print, how to browse the authors list in a book and imagine the his/her personality, work, workplace- looking at perhaps how to learn to think like the rara avis that dreamed of gene splicing or histone deacetylases or gene sequencing and all that jhakasmaal.
That salubrious cirrus does not however feed the mundane rigmaroles of nine to five (to perhaps nine.) The bottom line being that “No one pays you to just sit and read.”
When I visited the book exhibition last week I really felt like buying every single book I liked and wanted to dirty with pencil underlining and comments and doodles like in days of past. But unfortunately I do not have the money to satisfy my fetish.
I hardly seem to get time to sit and read I tried to reason with myself. When will I read if at all I were to buy Bartlett’s tome or Fishman or Feigenbaum. ?
Amedeo is left undisturbed since Sept 2007, CCO sends me more updates than I can keep track of. OTM by June is a target that seems fuelled by a bit of misplaced enthusiasm. Schlossberg seems to be gathering dust as I seem to be drifting into that private practice mould of work. Surprisingly I do not find myself worthy of all the maaki stuff I used to think this type of functioning merited being called. This too shall pass. Maybe.
Movies have already been hijacked out of the budget of the middleclass mensch by the multiplex mafia. Now we shall have the IPL brand of superfowl larceny. Tickets for 500 and 750 to see your city play!!!!!!
Sharad Power and his BaCChI have demonstrated its testicular/dallar fortitude amply, but the bidding telecast where a Bombay dyer fought a booze badshah and an androgynous filmstar for nonsons of soil was a mockery of the Utappam Dhoni breed of cricketers, not ‘tribute to their merit’ as some moron Suhel Seth would have us believe.
As they say: ‘the difference between men and “boys” is the size/price of their toys’
The essence of existence then was to dream, close eyes and float spenta amertal on raf kinases propelled nanomotors, hiking through TyKs seeking all that is new and unique, and catchy, perhaps contorted- looking for the rare syndrome, the gestalt agglomeration that stretched the limits of your associative memory – Tore Solente Gole or Rubenstein Taybi , LEOPARD, LAMB/NAME. and all that fancy pansy orgiastic quasi-intellectualism. What was the motivation to hoard so much ‘knowledge’? It was a phase where the more you know/memorise, the more successful you were. The secondary gain ( should be primary gain??-perhaps??) of this cannabinoidated phase of life, was learning how to read, what to gain beyond mere pages of print, how to browse the authors list in a book and imagine the his/her personality, work, workplace- looking at perhaps how to learn to think like the rara avis that dreamed of gene splicing or histone deacetylases or gene sequencing and all that jhakasmaal.
That salubrious cirrus does not however feed the mundane rigmaroles of nine to five (to perhaps nine.) The bottom line being that “No one pays you to just sit and read.”
When I visited the book exhibition last week I really felt like buying every single book I liked and wanted to dirty with pencil underlining and comments and doodles like in days of past. But unfortunately I do not have the money to satisfy my fetish.
I hardly seem to get time to sit and read I tried to reason with myself. When will I read if at all I were to buy Bartlett’s tome or Fishman or Feigenbaum. ?
Amedeo is left undisturbed since Sept 2007, CCO sends me more updates than I can keep track of. OTM by June is a target that seems fuelled by a bit of misplaced enthusiasm. Schlossberg seems to be gathering dust as I seem to be drifting into that private practice mould of work. Surprisingly I do not find myself worthy of all the maaki stuff I used to think this type of functioning merited being called. This too shall pass. Maybe.
Movies have already been hijacked out of the budget of the middleclass mensch by the multiplex mafia. Now we shall have the IPL brand of superfowl larceny. Tickets for 500 and 750 to see your city play!!!!!!
Sharad Power and his BaCChI have demonstrated its testicular/dallar fortitude amply, but the bidding telecast where a Bombay dyer fought a booze badshah and an androgynous filmstar for nonsons of soil was a mockery of the Utappam Dhoni breed of cricketers, not ‘tribute to their merit’ as some moron Suhel Seth would have us believe.
As they say: ‘the difference between men and “boys” is the size/price of their toys’
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Ha ha ha....!!
"
We then simultaneously noticed another pedestrian walking towards us, with the biggest bulge EVER in the crotch area of his jeans. Incredulously, hubby looked at me and mouthed the question: "is that an erection?", to which I immediately replied: "no silly, that's just a huge hydrocele!"
"
From a blog called urostream.
Quid novi ex Pune
DNA comes as a whiff of fresh air amidst the stench of the Times . No ads apart from classifieds means you do not have an inane full page obit for some peripatetic industrialist's mother who breathed a wretched last breath after a year in the BH ICU on bi pap for COPD, or SITA/SOTC tours' lewd ads inviting a nouveau riche upper middle class for a Thai/European jamboree for " fifty thousand per couple only for 5 days 6 nights in the scenic Baden Baden on the Jungfrauroch, savings galore". Nothing irritates you more than a huge gimmicky full front page ad for an IPO for some real estate company.Thankfully except a single ad in the lower right of the front page, this paper does not have any ads.
Brownie point score:1
The layout is cheerfully colorful, but thankfully does not get cheesy on coverage. (plus 1).
There is some page three nonsense for those who categorize this piddleshit as news.But thankfully that comes as a separate 2 page supplement, unlike the 7-8 page piece of toilet paper that sells as PT.(minus 0.5) It ain't pretentious about the shibboleth of journalistic courage- or whatever they call it- like the IE- c'mon BOFORS was in the time of Chitra Subramaniam, they don't have such a big geese around to cook nowadays, and anyways the television channels break wind breaking news on some "sharmnaak vyakti Shakti or be- imaan swami, khoon se haath rang lene wale doctor" by the hour. Whats new? And frankly who has the time to read' exclusive to the times' anyways.
Coverage is passable, often petite and interrupted, and not extensive like a Hindu. But writers are good. You do not end up missing a Bachchi or Mukul Sharma, certainly not Jug.Sample this interview with Christophe Jaffrelot ( who's that?) His analysis of the Indian middle class is quite novel and interesting. I would have preferred to read something like this on a Sunday rather than Malavika Sanghvi's torture on the emotional upheavals of the so called creme de la creme, or how some Neetu Singh struggled through married life or what Tina Ambani likes for lunch.( plus 2) Local coverage is okayish, but international news and sport lacking in purpose and just copy paste from AP/NYT. They could do with a Sunil Gavaskar or Rashmee Roshan Lall here.
The package in Mumbai was a steal- Rs 220 for the entire year. I do not know the pricing in Pune. But all in all good baby steps ab initio......but I hope it stays this way. For ratings 3.5/5...paisa vasool for Rs2/-.
(Disclaimer: Opinions expressed here are my own personal, and not intended to defame in any way.)
Brownie point score:1
The layout is cheerfully colorful, but thankfully does not get cheesy on coverage. (plus 1).
There is some page three nonsense for those who categorize this piddleshit as news.But thankfully that comes as a separate 2 page supplement, unlike the 7-8 page piece of toilet paper that sells as PT.(minus 0.5) It ain't pretentious about the shibboleth of journalistic courage- or whatever they call it- like the IE- c'mon BOFORS was in the time of Chitra Subramaniam, they don't have such a big geese around to cook nowadays, and anyways the television channels break wind breaking news on some "sharmnaak vyakti Shakti or be- imaan swami, khoon se haath rang lene wale doctor" by the hour. Whats new? And frankly who has the time to read' exclusive to the times' anyways.
Coverage is passable, often petite and interrupted, and not extensive like a Hindu. But writers are good. You do not end up missing a Bachchi or Mukul Sharma, certainly not Jug.Sample this interview with Christophe Jaffrelot ( who's that?) His analysis of the Indian middle class is quite novel and interesting. I would have preferred to read something like this on a Sunday rather than Malavika Sanghvi's torture on the emotional upheavals of the so called creme de la creme, or how some Neetu Singh struggled through married life or what Tina Ambani likes for lunch.( plus 2) Local coverage is okayish, but international news and sport lacking in purpose and just copy paste from AP/NYT. They could do with a Sunil Gavaskar or Rashmee Roshan Lall here.
The package in Mumbai was a steal- Rs 220 for the entire year. I do not know the pricing in Pune. But all in all good baby steps ab initio......but I hope it stays this way. For ratings 3.5/5...paisa vasool for Rs2/-.
(Disclaimer: Opinions expressed here are my own personal, and not intended to defame in any way.)
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Vulcanised tools
Interesting debate on whether condoms are the answer to non HIV STDs, or not.
The latter makes more interesting reading.Invoking the Einstein in saying that it is insanity to do the same thing again and again and expect different results, the author seems to take a holistic view of things. He makes an important point that we should not be naive to over rely on one single gurumantra- for experience with life is often counterintuitive on these grounds, and thus there should never be a gurumantra for everything. This de-seeder of sorts, slayer of Jesus juice is a catchy, fashionable slogan for the Bono- Gere brand of humanitarianism, but still seems a tacky band- aid when the statistics of usage and adherence are hammered out. After all, as Dr Telang would say, who would like to eat a chocolate with the wrapper on?! The important tool that should be used more frequently is health education. Till then condoms are no better than water balloons used for holi.
Interesting anecdotal cases that I have seen more than incidentally now are seropositive couples infected with a mix of mutant virus thats resistant( usually the husband, usually alcoholic) and wild type virus thats sensitive ( usually the wife, usually faithful to the spouse) and still preferring to eat the chocolate without the wrapper on, and horror of horrors, ending up pregnant!!Think of how we are falling short here.If you get any answers, you have solved the enigma of the pecker decker.
The A to Z of AIDS control makes for entertaining reading if you go through the entire list (in the first article). When something starts with A for abstinence, you know where you are heading. But fortunately/unfortunately, those are the guys who have all the money. So the no glove, no love slogan will keep ringing in our ears then ad nauseum.
The latter makes more interesting reading.Invoking the Einstein in saying that it is insanity to do the same thing again and again and expect different results, the author seems to take a holistic view of things. He makes an important point that we should not be naive to over rely on one single gurumantra- for experience with life is often counterintuitive on these grounds, and thus there should never be a gurumantra for everything. This de-seeder of sorts, slayer of Jesus juice is a catchy, fashionable slogan for the Bono- Gere brand of humanitarianism, but still seems a tacky band- aid when the statistics of usage and adherence are hammered out. After all, as Dr Telang would say, who would like to eat a chocolate with the wrapper on?! The important tool that should be used more frequently is health education. Till then condoms are no better than water balloons used for holi.
Interesting anecdotal cases that I have seen more than incidentally now are seropositive couples infected with a mix of mutant virus thats resistant( usually the husband, usually alcoholic) and wild type virus thats sensitive ( usually the wife, usually faithful to the spouse) and still preferring to eat the chocolate without the wrapper on, and horror of horrors, ending up pregnant!!Think of how we are falling short here.If you get any answers, you have solved the enigma of the pecker decker.
The A to Z of AIDS control makes for entertaining reading if you go through the entire list (in the first article). When something starts with A for abstinence, you know where you are heading. But fortunately/unfortunately, those are the guys who have all the money. So the no glove, no love slogan will keep ringing in our ears then ad nauseum.
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