All,
The new time for Only Science this semester is Mondays at Noon! Make sure you tune into 89.7FM if you are in the Iowa City area, or check out www.kruiradio.org for a live stream
This upcoming weeks guest is Charles Newsom, Associate Professor of Physics at the University of Iowa. Dr. Newsom's research has involved particle physics at both CERN and Fermi labs. Another specialty area of his happens to be flooding: physics of floods, flood management, hydrology, prevention, (the list goes on, I'm sure). Tune in to hear him comment on how the university may have been able to prevent massive damages, and what we all hope the Army Corps of Engineers can learn from such a disaster.
If you have any questions or comments too, please email me at erikleenylen@gmail.com
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Reckless Wishing
Every since I started working in ophthalmology, I've had a growing interest in how the research I perform is actually translated into treatments for patients with visual disabilities. Such growing interest has led me to want to interact with real people with real problems: I've heard countless stories about visual loss, ranging from mild reduction in visual over several decades to no-light-perception over night. But only hearing these stories left a large space between myself and the patients. It's hard to really understand people when you are pinned up in a lab and, well, have no interaction with these people. I was rather recklessly wishing to see a case.
Susan (name changed) is a 51 year old accountant. She spends most of her time looking at small numbers, crunching data, you know, accounting. Several years ago she reported problems with her visual acuity, that is, it became harder and harder for her to see little numbers. Glasses didn't help. It was rather safely assumed at this point in time that she had some type of photoreceptor degeneration (and it clearly was not age-related macular degeneration or glaucoma). By last year, her visual was right around 20/100, which means what you might see at 20 feet appears to be 100 feet away from her.
Yesterday, Susan came into the clinic. Upon testing her visual acuity, her best corrected was 20/500. What you might see at 20 feet appears to be 500 feet away from her. I was given the duty of helping test her visual fields, which means figuring out what she can see in her periphery. After 20 minutes of flashing small lights all around her eye, it occurred to her that this time around, the test was much more difficult. She had already started using a computer monitor to zoom in on texts, and one of the best optometrists around had, earlier that morning, gave her a good amount of information on learning how to use a white cane. Simply put, her vision was plummeting. When I told Susan that I was done testing one eye and that she could relax, the exact opposite happened. A day where I thought I was getting great patient interaction turned into a lady sobbing about how crappy her vision has become. No doctor around to jump in. No Abort button. What do I even say? Do I tell her that everything is going to be OK? Clearly, this is a major life change for Susan. Now you see, now you don't. I can't empathize with her; my vision is good. This being my real first actual patient issue, it's even difficult to sympathize. The easy thing would have been to do nothing. Maybe play drill sergeant and tell her to get over it? Isn't this something that only doctors have to deal with? And how do they deal with it?
I told her about the research that we were doing. I told her that a lab with 35 dedicated employees are working hard every day to figure out what is going on in her eyes. I told her that her vision isn't as bad as she thought.
When the attending physician eventually saw her, he noted that her visual fields were actually the same as before. Her peripheral vision hadn't gone anywhere. Her fine-detail-abilites were getting worse, but her ability to see the world hadn't changed. It turns out that her "vision isn't as bad as she thought" was true. I thought I was stretching the truth a bit, but really I wasn't at all. Yeah, her central vision is slowly deteriorating, but looking on the bright side, she can still other things. After each tissue she went through, she threw them in the trash. Note to self: people that cannot see cannot through things in the trash. Even though her vision isn't getting better by itself, it's not horrible. If there is such a bright side, this is it.
My wish to really see something snuck right up on me. Realization unfolded right before me. Just imagine going blind.
Already I've learned an immense amount about how to deal with such issues. Next time I'll be slightly better equiped for talking about how such problems can really be addressed. About seeing the bright side of things. Let's hope the Susans out there are just as willing to see the bright side without having to really see at all.
Susan (name changed) is a 51 year old accountant. She spends most of her time looking at small numbers, crunching data, you know, accounting. Several years ago she reported problems with her visual acuity, that is, it became harder and harder for her to see little numbers. Glasses didn't help. It was rather safely assumed at this point in time that she had some type of photoreceptor degeneration (and it clearly was not age-related macular degeneration or glaucoma). By last year, her visual was right around 20/100, which means what you might see at 20 feet appears to be 100 feet away from her.
Yesterday, Susan came into the clinic. Upon testing her visual acuity, her best corrected was 20/500. What you might see at 20 feet appears to be 500 feet away from her. I was given the duty of helping test her visual fields, which means figuring out what she can see in her periphery. After 20 minutes of flashing small lights all around her eye, it occurred to her that this time around, the test was much more difficult. She had already started using a computer monitor to zoom in on texts, and one of the best optometrists around had, earlier that morning, gave her a good amount of information on learning how to use a white cane. Simply put, her vision was plummeting. When I told Susan that I was done testing one eye and that she could relax, the exact opposite happened. A day where I thought I was getting great patient interaction turned into a lady sobbing about how crappy her vision has become. No doctor around to jump in. No Abort button. What do I even say? Do I tell her that everything is going to be OK? Clearly, this is a major life change for Susan. Now you see, now you don't. I can't empathize with her; my vision is good. This being my real first actual patient issue, it's even difficult to sympathize. The easy thing would have been to do nothing. Maybe play drill sergeant and tell her to get over it? Isn't this something that only doctors have to deal with? And how do they deal with it?
I told her about the research that we were doing. I told her that a lab with 35 dedicated employees are working hard every day to figure out what is going on in her eyes. I told her that her vision isn't as bad as she thought.
When the attending physician eventually saw her, he noted that her visual fields were actually the same as before. Her peripheral vision hadn't gone anywhere. Her fine-detail-abilites were getting worse, but her ability to see the world hadn't changed. It turns out that her "vision isn't as bad as she thought" was true. I thought I was stretching the truth a bit, but really I wasn't at all. Yeah, her central vision is slowly deteriorating, but looking on the bright side, she can still other things. After each tissue she went through, she threw them in the trash. Note to self: people that cannot see cannot through things in the trash. Even though her vision isn't getting better by itself, it's not horrible. If there is such a bright side, this is it.
My wish to really see something snuck right up on me. Realization unfolded right before me. Just imagine going blind.
Already I've learned an immense amount about how to deal with such issues. Next time I'll be slightly better equiped for talking about how such problems can really be addressed. About seeing the bright side of things. Let's hope the Susans out there are just as willing to see the bright side without having to really see at all.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Assistance?
Greetings, and apologies for such lazy lack of blogging lately. Don't worry, 'thas all been for a good cause: I just finished writing and illustrating my first children's short story. Being the science person that I am, I haven't a clue who to talk to in terms of trying to get it printed. Any suggestions from anyone would be great, I can be best reached via erikleenylen@gmail.com.
Thanks!
Thanks!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
10,000,000 Year Floodplain
Let's just all be glad we're not Highlanders.
It is interesting to note though, that the 500 year floodplain came only 15 years after the 100 year floodplain. The mathematician inside me knew that something was hairy.
There are a couple of different ways we can take this.
For one, we can assume a direct linear relationship between the given data. That is, beginning at year 1993 (year 0), and progressing to year 2008 (year 15), we are able to derive rather easily that the equation for the flood plain mark is:
Floodplain Year(x) (FPY) = (x*80/3) + 100
(Equation 1, where "x" is in years)
Try it for yourself: year 0 gives you FPY100, year 15 gives you FPY500.
However, we could take the route of an exponential relationship. In this manner, the equation would be:
FPY = 100*e^(0.1073*x)
(Equation 2, "x" is in years)
Given Equation 1, we are pretty safe. It would take roughly 375,000 years for the 10,000,000 year floodplain to hit. Whew, that was close!
If we apply Equation 2 (the exponential relationship) to the matter at hand, things are bit dicier.
Solving for "x" it can be found that in roughly 107.3 years, the 10,000,000 year floodplain will hit. OK, those of use that are not highlanders are still safe, albeit barely. Future generations? Let's just hope the whole scheme was a plot of the Wolf Family, and Dirk Pitt is around to save us all. Gee, Dirk, thanks!
It is interesting to note though, that the 500 year floodplain came only 15 years after the 100 year floodplain. The mathematician inside me knew that something was hairy.
There are a couple of different ways we can take this.
For one, we can assume a direct linear relationship between the given data. That is, beginning at year 1993 (year 0), and progressing to year 2008 (year 15), we are able to derive rather easily that the equation for the flood plain mark is:
Floodplain Year(x) (FPY) = (x*80/3) + 100
(Equation 1, where "x" is in years)
Try it for yourself: year 0 gives you FPY100, year 15 gives you FPY500.
However, we could take the route of an exponential relationship. In this manner, the equation would be:
FPY = 100*e^(0.1073*x)
(Equation 2, "x" is in years)
Given Equation 1, we are pretty safe. It would take roughly 375,000 years for the 10,000,000 year floodplain to hit. Whew, that was close!
If we apply Equation 2 (the exponential relationship) to the matter at hand, things are bit dicier.
Solving for "x" it can be found that in roughly 107.3 years, the 10,000,000 year floodplain will hit. OK, those of use that are not highlanders are still safe, albeit barely. Future generations? Let's just hope the whole scheme was a plot of the Wolf Family, and Dirk Pitt is around to save us all. Gee, Dirk, thanks!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Newton's Time Management
Through the web of technology and digital signals and satellites and computer screens that separates me from you, the reader, I can still manage a degree of psychic powers into exactly what you are thinking:
"Shouldn't you [Erik] be, like, writing a thesis right now, not a blog?"
The short answer is yes.
However, even in the few weeks in which I've been up and blogging have I simply transferred my flow of information from what would have been a wasted napkin into public viewing, more or less. I hold great admire for Bryson's description of Isaac Newton, saying that Newton would sometimes wake up in the morning, and be incapable of getting out of bed, rendered completely immobile by the influx of ideas.
Just think if Newton would have blogged.
To put things in perspective for you, I am currently positioned in a posture likely frightening to a chiropractor or a finishing school teacher. My chair is in the "let me lean back" mode, as I've managed to slide down without having completely become supine. The back of my head still touches the back of the chair. My left leg is on the desk from knee to foot, and my right foot is closer to my body, resting on top of the computer on the ground with my upper/outer ankle wedged into the corner of the desk. I don't doubt that my foot is long asleep. The keyboard is positioned on my right leg. The mouse, when needed, is up on the desk. Don't worry, I've got a pretty good reach.
If you still can't picture how I am oriented, imagine an empty chair in front of a basic computer set up. Now imagine plopping a six and a half foot bag of sand on top of said scenery. There you have it.
You're probably waiting for me to tell you that I'm rendering myself completely immobile, due to the enormous influx of ideas. What Newton didn't tell you was that when he had a really big deadline approaching, he probably wrote as much and much as possible so he could filter out all of the bad stuff from the good stuff. One of Newton's finest qualities was the ability to discern an astonishing breakthrough from absolute rubbish.
"Shouldn't you [Erik] be, like, writing a thesis right now, not a blog?"
The short answer is yes.
However, even in the few weeks in which I've been up and blogging have I simply transferred my flow of information from what would have been a wasted napkin into public viewing, more or less. I hold great admire for Bryson's description of Isaac Newton, saying that Newton would sometimes wake up in the morning, and be incapable of getting out of bed, rendered completely immobile by the influx of ideas.
Just think if Newton would have blogged.
To put things in perspective for you, I am currently positioned in a posture likely frightening to a chiropractor or a finishing school teacher. My chair is in the "let me lean back" mode, as I've managed to slide down without having completely become supine. The back of my head still touches the back of the chair. My left leg is on the desk from knee to foot, and my right foot is closer to my body, resting on top of the computer on the ground with my upper/outer ankle wedged into the corner of the desk. I don't doubt that my foot is long asleep. The keyboard is positioned on my right leg. The mouse, when needed, is up on the desk. Don't worry, I've got a pretty good reach.
If you still can't picture how I am oriented, imagine an empty chair in front of a basic computer set up. Now imagine plopping a six and a half foot bag of sand on top of said scenery. There you have it.
You're probably waiting for me to tell you that I'm rendering myself completely immobile, due to the enormous influx of ideas. What Newton didn't tell you was that when he had a really big deadline approaching, he probably wrote as much and much as possible so he could filter out all of the bad stuff from the good stuff. One of Newton's finest qualities was the ability to discern an astonishing breakthrough from absolute rubbish.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Indefinitely Suspended
Due to the large amount of flooding in Iowa City and every other city near a body of water in Iowa, the home of KRUI, the Iowa Memorial Union, will be shutting down its operations indefinitely. This morning, I was amazed by how many people were at the IMU helping out with moving and sand-bagging. I glanced over one of the sand walls that had been made, and the water was eerily close. I'm talking feet away. Reports have indicated that water levels are expected to rise yet another 3 to 5 feet. I'm no mathematician, but that pits Iowa River vs. measly sand bags. Granted that the sand wall is a triangular 4ish feet tall, with about the same width, and that the Iowa River is well over 100 feet wide, and apparently ticked off enough to not have subsided yet. It almost reminds me of Ghostbusters 2, when the slime begins to take over the city. Alright, alright, the slime was a viscous orange substance with undeniably ghoul powers, BUT, the same effect is happening. In a fictional era that is used to be infested with ghosts getting hit by slime sucks, but at least they new something like that was coming, with all of the ghost foreboding. Now, in Iowa, we are faced with The Massive Flood, Part 2. Iowa is no stranger to natural disasters, so something like a flood isn't exactly out of the norm. How can we really be surprised? What is sad is how we apparently didn't learn from The Massive Flood, Part 1 (Man! If only they'd tell us there would be a sequel!). We could have shelled out 3 million dollars for a study on flood dynamics that may have actually told us something about what might happen next time. Now, we're just sitting ducks as we set up garlic and crosses to fight off our own slime. I don't know how the ghostbusters figured out that they could simply climb into the statue of liberty, fill it with slime, cue the music and BAM!, Lady Liberty comes to life and fights evil or something. Maybe with 3 million big ones we could hire a couple of high tech Hydroscientists (Hmm... if only we knew a few) to reroute the water to some place where their people can actually say they didn't see this coming. How about Illinois? There. Not our problem.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The Show
Today, we were graced by the presence of Mike Magnetta, and as with any conversation with him, we talked about science and only science. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to cover everything that I wanted to today. We didn't even get to talk about the platypus. One of these days I'll have a concrete time schedule, and maybe even know what songs are going to be played, though I was rather impressed with a random shot at spinning Sci-Fi Kid. Until that day comes, we'll go wherever the science takes us.
Much thanks to all of the volunteers who are helping prevent flood damage in Iowa City.
Thanks again to Mike to for joining the show today. Don't forget to visit his myougle, and check out his application on facebook.
Alas, your Top 10 signs you should a doctor:
10 You came in contact with any form of matter at the Summit.
9 After accidentally ingesting Flomax, you experience nausea and fever. Wait, those are normal side effects.
8 That red growth on your shin is starting to take over the red growth on your knee.
7 Your chiropractor finally admitted to not having scant bit of real medical knowledge.
6 You are breathing very heavily, and it’s not just from sitting inside of the Deadwood.
5 You legitimately think tofu tastes good.
4 Your convulsive seizures are remarkably similar to those seen by the patient in last night’s episode of House, you also remember that that patient died within 24 hours.
3 You realized your water main has been collecting from the Iowa River for the past 5 years.
2 The voices went away but were replaced by Lambchop’s “Song that never ends.”
1 You actually get enjoyment out of a Science talk radio show.
A podcast of today's show will be available within the next few days, so stay tuned.
Much thanks to all of the volunteers who are helping prevent flood damage in Iowa City.
Thanks again to Mike to for joining the show today. Don't forget to visit his myougle, and check out his application on facebook.
Alas, your Top 10 signs you should a doctor:
10 You came in contact with any form of matter at the Summit.
9 After accidentally ingesting Flomax, you experience nausea and fever. Wait, those are normal side effects.
8 That red growth on your shin is starting to take over the red growth on your knee.
7 Your chiropractor finally admitted to not having scant bit of real medical knowledge.
6 You are breathing very heavily, and it’s not just from sitting inside of the Deadwood.
5 You legitimately think tofu tastes good.
4 Your convulsive seizures are remarkably similar to those seen by the patient in last night’s episode of House, you also remember that that patient died within 24 hours.
3 You realized your water main has been collecting from the Iowa River for the past 5 years.
2 The voices went away but were replaced by Lambchop’s “Song that never ends.”
1 You actually get enjoyment out of a Science talk radio show.
A podcast of today's show will be available within the next few days, so stay tuned.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
What is to come
This upcoming Wednesday, June 11th, we will be joined in the studio by none other than UI graduate student in biomedical engineering, Mr. Michael Magnetta. My invitation to UI assistant professor of biomedical engineering and ophthalmology & visual sciences Todd Scheetz has been given the big "maybe." Todd is the sensei of all things computationally genetic. I've offered to share the profits of my show with him if he makes an appearance, which hard to turn down, no matter how big (or small) that amount may be. Big Mike will be sharing his research experience in spine mechanics, drug delivery, and how certain drugs, if delivered properly, can cause pain relief of the spine. Strap in your boots for a short science fiction story, a gagging Top 10, and some dialogue re: the latest groundbreaking unveiling of the platypus genome.
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