Friday, May 17, 2013

Fun Friday Facts #73: History of Anesthesia


I went to the dentist this morning and half of my face is still numb, even though it’s almost 1:30 pm as I write this. That’s what I love most about going to the dentist, is walking around with a numb half-face for the rest of the day. No, seriously, it sure does beat the drill.

The dentist asked me if I am a natural redhead. I am not, but it runs in my mother’s family, so it’s definitely lurking around in my genes just waiting to emerge in the form of a pale, freckly baby who doesn’t look like his father. Dr. Drill was interested because I needed two shots of Novacaine in the jaw and then two more applied directly to the tooth in question, which is why I’m still numb four hours later. Apparently redheads need more anesthesia than blondes and brunettes, and he also thinks I have the complexion of a natural ginger.

It's just the light in here, Doc.

Image credit: Dental Supply

People have been attempting to numb pain during surgical procedures since the dawn of human history, but have only really gotten it right in the past couple of centuries. The ancient Babylonians used a mixture of gum mastic and henbane seed to treat painful dental caries. Henbane, or “stinking nightshade,” was also historically used in magic potions because of its effects, which included hallucinations, flushed skin, restlessness and dilated pupils. The priestesses of Apollo in ancient Greece used it to consult the oracles. Some believe it to have been the poison used to kill Hamlet’s father.

Opium was another popular early anesthetic, as was mandrake, another hallucinogenic nightshade used in magic potions. It is poisonous. Legend has it that the mandrake plant screams when dug up, and that anyone who hears this scream will be killed. Early texts recommended digging it up halfway, tying it to a dog, and then running away, so that the dog pulls up the root and dies instead.

I wonder how many people lost dogs this way.

Ancient Chinese surgeon Hua Tuo, who lived from about 145 to 220 AD, is said to have concocted a formula for general anesthetic from wine and herbal extracts, which allowed him to induce unconsciousness in patients and perform major surgery. The formula for the anesthetic was lost upon his death.

Throughout the Middle Ages in Europe, various herbal tonics were used to render patients unconscious or at least take the edge off during surgical procedures. These tonics typically included such ingredients as henbane, opium, lettuce, mulberry juice, hemlock, ivy and mandrake. Medieval English surgeons used a potion known as “dwale,” which contained vinegar, bryony root, lettuce and bile, as well as hemlock, opium, and henbane. Dwale was often administered by caregivers, such as wives and mothers, as well as by surgeons, although the hemlock in the mixture indeed caused death in some cases.

They wouldn't have heard about the death of Socrates; they didn't have Google.

Scientists began to discover the anesthetic properties of things like nitrous oxide in the 18th century. The first person to notice the pain-relief potential of nitrous oxide was not a surgeon, but a physicist, Humphry Davy. In the early 19th century, Japanese surgeon Hanaoka Seishu used his knowledge of Chinese herbal medicine to recreate what he believed was the ancient general anesthetic potion used by Hua Tuo. Whether or not his potion, which he called tsusensan, really was the same as that used by Hua Tuo, it seems to have worked; in 1804 Hanaoka performed the first documented surgery under general anesthetic, a partial mastectomy to treat the breast cancer of 60-year-old Kan Aiya. By 1835, Hanaoka had performed more than 150 such operations.

In the Western world, physicians began experimenting with things like morphine, nitrous oxide, ether and chloroform as anesthetics in the early 19th century. Early surgeons held what they called “ether frolics,” where audience members were invited to try out the ether. By the 1840s, nitrous oxide had become a popular dental anesthetic. Chloroform gradually replaced ether as a general anesthetic throughout the latter part of the 19th century, although it, too, was phased out when it was found to cause fatal heart palpitations. Of course, the 20th century saw the proliferation of injectable and inhalable anesthetics that mostly don’t kill people at all.

And are definitely better than a screaming root.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

What I’m Proud Of (a #ThemeThursday Post)


So I’ve been aware of the link-up known as Theme Thursday for a while now, but I haven’t done it yet because I’m bad at Being Part of a Group. I used to think that I didn’t have friends because nobody liked me, but now I realize the opposite is true – I don’t have friends because I don’t want to be anybody’s friend. Y’all can suck my nuts.

Image credit: Benjamin Gimmel

So, this week’s theme is obviously “What are you proud of?” which I had to think about for a while, which is why the post is late. I’m proud of having earned my BA, but that was a long time ago and it’s becomes obvious that anybody who’s Anybody has at least a Master’s, and even though I’ve been talking about going to grad school since before I finished undergrad, I still haven’t mustered up the motivation to actually do it. By the time I finally do go to grad school I’ll be old and wrinkly and my womb will be as dry as the Sahara, and no one will want to hire me anyway, Master’s degree or not. But I guess that’s okay, cause I can just go ahead and get a doctorate.

Got it all figured out.

Everyone else is proud of their kids, which is all well and good if you have kids, and if you do, I should hope for their sakes that you’re proud of them or at least that you claim to be in public. I do not have kids, and I am proud of that. I’ll tell you what, not getting pregnant is a talent and damn am I good at it. Out of all my talents – writing, memorizing literary trivia, speaking French, wrestling cougars, roasting chickens, turning my bellybutton inside out – not getting pregnant has been the most rewarding by far.

I’ve also been single for four years next week, and I am definitely proud of this because it took effort. I haven’t been single for four years by accident. I had to work at it. I’ve approached being single the way many people seem to approach getting married – which is to say that I think of it as a commitment, but one that I can end whenever I want. Most people would question the benefit of four years of solitude, but most people can’t even get through a weekend without some company, so they can suck my nuts. I set out to become an independent person, and I did it. 

Woot


Wednesday, May 15, 2013

I’m Lost


I don’t mean I’m metaphorically lost. I mean I’m literally lost. Okay, not right now. I know where I am right now. I’m at home. But should I leave that home, there is at least a 75% chance that I’ll get lost, and that holds true even if I’m going somewhere I’ve been before.  I’ve been noticing it more and more lately, and I don’t know if it’s a brain tumor or if I just don’t know my way around very well. I’m sure I probably should know my way around by now, since I’ve lived in this town for almost a year, but I work from home and that means I don’t get out much and it’s kind of embarrassing when I have to admit to somebody that I don’t really know where something is, especially when they get all, “Well do you know where [other thing] is?” and I’ll be like, “No,” and then they’ll kinda sigh and be like, “Well, do you know where [yet another thing] is?” and I’ll be like “No,” and then they’ll kinda huff and look me square in the eye and go, “Well you’ve got to know where [thing everybody knows where it is] is?” and I’ll throw up my hands and squeal “I DON’T KNOW WHERE ANYTHING IS!” and they’ll just kinda roll their eyes and sigh because I’m obviously a dumbass.

I have GPS in my phone but it doesn’t help much because I live in West Virginia, which is the Land That GPS Forgot. It keeps telling me to take a right turn into a cow and at one point, it actually asked me to get out of my car and swim across a lake.

Whenever I go anywhere I spend a lot of time driving around trying to figure out where the hell I am. Even when the GPS does tell me to turn onto actual roads and stuff, it often waits until I’ve actually passed them before it says anything. The motherfucker reads maps like my ex-boyfriend, ha ha ha ha ha. No but seriously, once we tried to go from Kalamazoo to Ann Arbor and we ended up in Detroit.

Here's a map if you're not familiar with Michigan.

The best time I ever got lost was when I was in college, and my then-partner and I were trying to go to a Halloween party. She was dressed as a “housewife,” which to her meant wearing pajamas and a bathrobe and half-assedly sticking some curlers in her hair, because we were 20 and figured no one gets dressed if they don’t have to. I was dressed as a pregnant nun.1 We were trying to find this off-campus house party, and in my day, kids, we didn’t have GPS. We had to rely on directions people gave us, and half the time those directions would include lines like, “Yer gunna take a right where the old school house used ta be,” or “Now yer gunna pass a McDonald’s and after it there’s gunna be a left turn. DON’T GO THAT WAY.”

So, we got lost. After an interminable time trying to figure out where the hell we were, we stopped at a McDonald’s, despondent. I wanted to go in and ask for directions, but the gf was embarrassed because we looked ridiculous. We stood in the parking lot and had a little argument about it.

A man sitting in a nearby car overheard us. “You girls lost?” he asked.

“Yeah!” one of us, probably me, announced and I approached the strange man’s car with too much enthusiasm. It was kind of a beat-up car and he was kind of a beat-up man, but I was a young and from the sticks. “We’re trying to get to 5555 Maple Drive, do you know where that is?”

“Of course I know where it is, I’m the Orkin man!” And “Boom!” the strange man pulled out a detailed city map – it was one of those maps that’s so detailed it’s printed in a book of 200 pages. This was Roanoke, VA, by the way – not exactly a major metropolitan center.2

The Orkin man flipped to the relevant page of his map and pointed. “You’re here,” he said, “And you want to go on down this way, take a right here, and then go on to your destination, here.” I’m proud to say that, thanks to that serendipitous encounter with the Orkin man, we made it that house party, and the gf bragged for months about how we got directions from the Orkin man.

Of course, she doesn’t remember it now. 



1 Not really. I can't remember what I was dressed as and neither can anyone else, so "pregnant nun" it is.
2 Don't tell them I said that.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

A Long-Overdue Awards Acknowledgement Post

Okay, so this isn’t the longest-overdue awards post I’ve ever done. That place was claimed almost two years ago, when I waited like three months to acknowledge the Versatile Blogger Award I received from Lyn Midnight. However, this post is going to be a doozy because, I have received no less than seven blog awards in the past two months. OMG, you guys, every time I turn around someone is throwing an award at me. I feel like it’s time we had some new blogging awards, because they’re the same two awards over and over again. NOT THAT I’M COMPLAINING.

So, first, I’ll start by naming and linking back to the bloggers who offered me awards.

Lady Bren at The World According to Lady Bren offered me a Liebster Award. It’s the one that looks like this:



Su-sieee Mac at Don’t Be a Hippie also offered me a Liebster Award. It’s the one that looks like this:

Different color, you see.

Brandy at Brandy’s Bustlings also offered me a Liebster Award. It’s the one that looks like this:



When I told Brandy that I’d just received two Liebster Awards, she offered me the Very Inspiring Blogger award instead.

Jenn at Something Clever 2.0 also invited me to have either the Very Inspiring Blogger or the Liebster Award. I take it she was also overwhelmed by awards.

This is the Very Inspiring Blogger Award. Obviously.

I also received Very Inspiring Blogger Awards from Starr Bryson at The Insomniac’s Dream, Julie at Julie You Jest, and Stacey at Maple Syrup Land.

So, now I’m supposed to answer a bunch of questions about myself and/or state seven (or eleven) facts about myself. Since I’m cramming several different awards into one post, that means I have to list no less than 52 facts about myself. PSYCH. You’re getting seven facts and that’s all the facts you’re getting. Here are your seven facts.

  1. I have a tattoo of a four-leaf clover on one of my shoulders. I can never remember which one.
  2. I’ve been on no fewer than three Internet dates with guys who turned out to be missing teeth.
  3. I no longer agree to meet men who aren’t smiling in their pictures.
  4. I’m not quite sure what to do about the Brillo pad drawing from yesterday, since pretty much everyone who commented appears to have only done so to tell me how much they hate Brillo pads. Do they want to be entered for a chance to win half a box of Brillo pads or not? I can’t tell.
  5. Once when I was really small my parents took me to Hardee’s and I snorted an entire pepper shaker to see if it would make me sneeze. It did.
  6. The most embarrassing injury I ever sustained was when, as a child, I went to crawl under a barbed wire fence and sliced my enormous ass open on the barbed wire.
  7. The second most embarrassing injury I ever sustained was when I had to crawl back under the barbed wire fence to go home and receive first aid for my embarrassing ass injury. Naturally, I sliced open the other cheek.
  8. *BONUS FACT* To this day I still have asymmetrical ass-cheek scars, which draw a lot of questions from lovers, who then assume that something horrible must have happened to me and that the barbed-wire fence story is a cover-up. It is not.

Now we come to the part where I’m supposed to pass on the award to three times as many other bloggers as I actually read on a regular basis. I hate this part. I’m sure whoever came up with this award-passing-linky idea has nothing better to do than sit around reading blogs all day, but I do not. Also, it looks like everyone I know has already received these awards. So, I’m going to make up a new award, and here it is:


I hereby bestow this award upon all of the bloggers mentioned above, in thanks for their graciousness and generosity. I’d also like to honor the following bloggers:

Christina Majaski at Solitary Mama and Cari Wegner at Bubblegum on My Shoe, even though neither of them has blogged in like forever and also, they are both super lame for talking me into doing the A to Z Challenge with them and then dropping out. But they totally did inspire me to these new heights. Sort of.

Ali at Off the Mark, because her post about vacationing in Las Vegas CHANGED MY LIFE, you guys. CHANGED. MY. LIFE.

Paulie Elliott at This is Paulie, because I think he would like it, and NOT AT ALL because I think of him as the slow friend I’ll be able to outrun. Not at all because of that.

Breathe It Out, who is anonymous, but I’m pretty sure I finally figured out who she is. At least I hope so, cause it would suck if the wrong person showed up to the zompocalypse.

Kalyca Schultz at The Scarlet Tarlett, because she has been very supportive of my blogging efforts and I would like her to not be eaten by the ravenous undead.

Page, at Trust Me I’m a Professional (Opinionist), because she’s an old classmate, it’s a new blog, and I want to be supportive. Look at me, trying to be nice and stuff. Also, she makes one hell of a potted flower arrangement.

And, finally, Lelial Thibodeau, who is writing a zombie story at Pushing Fluid



Monday, May 13, 2013

There Are Some Things I Think You Should Know


Ok, first things first – Brillo pads freak me right the fuck out. I know that sounds weird, but they’re gross. They have that weird blue soap in them that makes your dishwater look all murky. They leave this weird metallic smell on your fingers. And if you put them in the soap dish, they rust.

GAH!

And that’s just the worst. Bear with me here. Some people are freaked out by caterpillars, others are freaked out by Brillo pads. It takes all kinds.

This wouldn’t be an issue, because I don’t buy Brillo pads, because they freak me out. But the previous owners of the house left half a box of them under the sink. And I, in one of my frequent moments of poor judgment, decided to use one to clean something. All the weirdness followed. Then I sort of shuddered with disgust while flinging the Brillo pad into the soap dish, where it’s probably planning my downfall even now. I can’t bring myself to throw away the rest of the box, so comment below for your chance to win – let me count – three Brillo pads. I’ll hold a drawing. It’ll be kickass.

Okay, so they're SOS pads. Whatevs, it'll still be kickass.

Another thing I think you should know is that I brake for toads. I like toads. The other night I was driving home from somewhere in the rain, cause it’s been raining here for like a week, and I spotted a toad hopping onto the edge of the muddy gravel road. That’s not uncommon, because the rain really brings them out. So, I brought my car to a stop and waited for the toad to cross the road. It took awhile, because it was a toad.

They're not fast.

A further thing, and maybe some of you already know this about me, is that I have no attention span when it comes to watching your online videos. I don’t care how awesome your video is, if it is longer than a minute, minute and a half, tops, I’m not watching it unless I’m procrastinating or I really, really like you or it has baby bears. I’m a busy woman. I’ve got toads to wait for. I can’t be watching your three-minute-long videos.

Also, last but not least, I need a hairdresser. I haven’t had my hair cut in over a year, and it would probably look nicer if I had it cut, but I don’t have a hair dresser here. I had a great hairdresser in France, but I am obviously not flying back to France just for a haircut, even though it’s tempting. If anyone in my local area knows of a hairdresser WHO KNOWS HOW TO CUT CURLY HAIR, drop me a line. I’m putting that last part in ALL CAPS because it is important. A majority of the hairdressers I’ve been to (which, admittedly, isn't very many) have left me looking like I got my hair caught in a garbage disposal, because they insist on straightening my hair before they cut it, and then it only looks good if I straighten my hair again every day. I am not spending 45 minutes a day straightening my hair. I’ve got toads to wait for. 

Slow fuckin' toads.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

I Learned Something New


The other day when I was researching dirty words that start with G for an ABCs of Swearing Challenge post, I learned of a new thing. Well, not new in general, just new to me. I hate it when I say to someone “I learned a new thing” and then when I tell them what it is, the jackass comes back with, “That’s not a new thing, that’s an old thing, I’ve known that for years." What a jerkoff thing to say to somebody, I mean, really.

The thing of which I now have awareness is the girlfriend zone. The girlfriend zone is where you are when you’ve told a guy that you’re not romantically interested, but he keeps hitting on you anyway like he hopes you’ll change your mind, or more likely, break down and give in. As we all know, the best relationships are founded on at least one party’s desperate sense of resignation and defeat.

And then the jagoff gets his panties in a knot when you keep on not being interested in him no matter how many times he makes unwelcome advances. The jerkwad might even go so far as to call you a tease and will almost definitely cry to all of his jizzpuppet friends about how unfair and sad it is that you haven’t come to your senses and realized you’re in love with him yet, and might even call “dibs,” because you are definitely an object that can be possessed and are never to be treated as though you had legal rights. The friends will probably promise never to steal you, and they might even comfort him by saying stupid jerkcircle things like, “It’s just a matter of time, bro.”

As soon as I learned about this thing, I had that awesome feeling of discovery that you get when you find out something you didn’t know had a name does, in fact, have a name, and since it has a name, it must be an experience you share with many others. And then you feel a much better about thinking the person who did this to you was a jerkass, even though most of the people who know you both think that it was maybe a little funny.

And yes, guys, there is such a thing as a boyfriend zone, which is what happens when a woman does this to a man. Feel free to have your moment of discovery now.

You're welcome.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Fun Friday Facts #72: Living Fossils Edition

In a previous Fun Friday Facts column, I explored some fossil hoaxes throughout history. That post was pretty popular, as was the Odd Animals Edition, and the Extinct Animals Edition, and what do you get if you combine all those things? You guessed it – living fossils! Or so says I.

A living fossil is an animal that has existed in its present form over millions or even hundreds of millions of years. In order to qualify as a living fossil, a species must exist in the fossil record in its modern form; it must have survived all of the major extinction events, like the K-T extinction that killed off most of the dinosaurs; and it cannot have enjoyed successful diversification by developing into numerous other related species. A famous example is the coelacanth, a fish presumed extinct since the Cretaceous period ended 65 million years ago. The first known living specimen was caught off the coast of South Africa in 1938.

They are ugly.

Though inedible, the fish are often caught by accident, putting the species at risk. As a living species that was once thought to be extinct, the coelacanth could also be referred to as a “Lazarus taxon,” an organism that has vanished from the fossil record only to reappear again later.

A more familiar living fossil is the ginkgo biloba tree. Fossil specimens of this tree have been found dating back 270 million years. Individual ginkgo trees are remarkably long-lived; some individual specimens have been aged at more than 2,500 years. These trees are exceptionally hardy as well; in 1945, six trees survived the atomic bomb blast at Hiroshima from a distance of 1.6 to 3.2 miles (1-2 kilometers) from ground zero. The trees still grow there today.

A fossilized ginkgo leaf from the Eocene epoch.

The trapdoor spider is the oldest living spider species and the one most closely related to scorpions. Spiders and scorpions are also related to horseshoe crabs, another living fossil that has remained unchanged for at least 450 million years. When you find something that works, you go with it.

Here they are mating FTW.
Image credit: Asturnut

Nautili, the marine mollusks with the tubular, spirally shells, are another example of a living fossil. There are six living species of nautilus, which are a type of cephalopod, which makes them a relative of octopi, cuttlefishes, and squid. These other species lost their shells, or internalized them, but the nautilus has kept his. It gets around by sucking in water and then squirting it out.

What.
Image credit: Manuae

The chevrotain, which I like because it has a French name1, is somewhat informally considered a living fossil. There are ten species living in South and Southeast Asia, as well as Central and West Africa, and they are cute as.

Actually, this one looks kind of angry.
Image credit: Bjørn Christian Tørrissen
Though not technically a living fossil, the chevrotain is an example of a primitive ruminant. They share characteristics with other ruminants, such as a four-chambered stomach and a dearth of upper incisors. They share several features with pigs, including prominent canine teeth, a lack of facial scent glands, and four toes per foot. Their mating behavior is also similar to that of pigs.

Chevrotains mating FTW!

The species was abundant from 34 to 5 million years ago. Modern species live alone or in pairs and give birth to just one offspring per pregnancy. They range in size from 1.5 to 35 pounds (0.7 to 16 kg) and OMG, I want a horsepig that weighs 1.5 pounds.

I'll bite your face off, bitch.



1 Little goat.