Outmoded Diseases: An X-File for Osteomyelitis

Ostermyelitis

 

I won’t use her name. How she got the disease no one knows. Her leg was cut off at the knee to stop the infection from spreading, and her name is omitted because she is a respected scientist. What happened in her case verges beyond science.

The disease is osteomyelitis. It means, simply, bone infection. In X-rays, it appears as a haziness, as if the bone were vanishing. An infection can enter the bone through the bloodstream or migrate from nearby tissue. Though it is rare, it is not technically outmoded. It still occurs, but in the case of this story, it should have been outmoded by tens of thousands of years. Continue reading

Guest Post: Outmoded Diseases: Pleurisy

Have you ever read a book where someone had pleurisy, or gout, or hysteria, and wondered…how come I never hear about anybody getting that anymore? Well, you’re in luck: It’s Outmoded Diseases Week at LWON, and we’re going to tell you. About some of them, anyway.

Sick woman.Steen

I stumbled into the commute van in the dark, feeling for where to put my pack. It was 5:56 am in late January. The van was habitually punctual and the other riders raised their eyebrows if it was two minutes late.

The last one in, I scrambled into my seat. But as I leaned against the seat back, a searing pain made me catch my breath. What? That was weird. I dropped my knapsack, heavy with papers and my work laptop and reached for the seatbelt to buckle myself in. Another stab of pain. I clenched my teeth and tried not to whimper. I must have pulled a muscle.

But the pain was in a strange place, on the left side of my back just behind my heart.

As the van lurched across an intersection and onto a dark freeway onramp, I tried breathing into the pain gently but firmly. Agonizing. I switched to taking lots of shallow breaths and trying not to move despite the bouncing van. Over the next 45 minutes of my ride to work I discovered that if I twisted to one side and wedged the painful spot firmly against the back of the seat, I could breathe with just minor pain, as long as I took tiny breaths.

The van jolted to a stop; I grabbed my pack, opened the door, and tumbled out into the cold dawn. As I walked up the sidewalk to my office, I shut my eyes against the pain. This was crazy. What had happened to me?

At work in a medical school communications office, I read about chest pain. I didn’t think I was having a heart attack. But it hurt every single time I took a breath. It turns out we breathe quite frequently. Oh, yes. And if you try not to breathe much, you will, willy nilly, suddenly find yourself taking a deep breath when you are thinking about something else, like where to break a paragraph.

I called Kaiser and made an appointment. Two buses and a four-block walk later, I arrived in the clinic dizzy and panting. All I could think about was breathing, and not in the Yoga or meditation way.

The 40-foot walk to the exam room winded me. Apparently intrigued, my doctor made me walk it again so she could watch me gasp. She frowned.

Probably not a heart attack, she said, but she was concerned and wanted me to get an X-ray and a blood test to rule out pulmonary embolism, heart attack, and pneumonia. She said she was leaning towards pleurisy.

Pleurisy? Wasn’t that one of those Victorian diseases people got in the 1880s, arms resting beautifully against moist foreheads? Continue reading

Outmoded Diseases: Female Hysteria, an Incomplete but Entertaining History

1147px-Jean-Martin_Charcot_demonstrating_hysteria_in_a_patient_at_t_Wellcome_M0013879

Okay, ladies, it’s high time we ceased the knuckle biting and the swooning, the weeping and the throwing of things, and certainly the touching of our own private parts in lieu of honoring the phallus. Someone might think we’re hysterical.

For as long as men and women have coexisted, which is pretty much the whole time, men have wished they could “fix” the things we girls do that irritate or flummox them. Corralling many symptoms under one label makes that easier, or at least it did for the earliest physicians. We can thank Hippocrates (460-377 BC) for the term “hysteria” (from hystera, literally ‘uterus’)—which nicely summed up a whole host of issues that we’ve now separated out into mostly psychological and neurological disorders, including depression, chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, epilepsy, asthma, PMS, horniness, and lack of horniness (aka, “the headache”).

I won’t try to shovel 4,000 years of thinking about female hysteria into this wandering text, but here are some of the best bits—gleaned from scholarly papers that you could have read instead of this, had you Googled “female hysteria” and done some intelligent clicking. (I’ve listed those excellent sources at the bottom with links, to give credit where it is due.) Continue reading

Outmoded Diseases: Spermatorrhea

Have you ever read a book where someone had pleurisy, or gout, or hysteria, and wondered…how come I never hear about anybody getting that anymore? Well, you’re in luck: It’s Outmoded Diseases Week at LWON, and we’re going to tell you. About some of them, anyway.

Representing_the_last_stage_of_mental_&_bodily_exhaustio_Wellcome_L0031938Gents, are you prone to fainting fits and epilepsy? Are you lacking “balmy and vital moisture”? Do you have weakness in the penis? Has your seed spawned sickly babes that either die quickly or always complain?

Then you might be suffering from spermatorrhea (or if you’re British, spermatorrhoea), the excessive involuntary loss of semen.

But losing semen is just the beginning. “In spermatorrhea, the body becomes a sieve, losing vitality from every orifice. Semen leaks away not only in ejaculations and nocturnal emissions but in urination; sweat oozes from every pore, creating the clammy palms of the self-abuser . . . Over and over again, doctors imagined the body as a leaking vessel,” writes Ellen Bayuk Rosenman in Body Doubles: The Spermatorrhea Panic. Continue reading

Outmoded Diseases: Neurasthenia

Have you ever read a book where someone had pleurisy, or gout, or hysteria, and wondered…how come I never hear about anybody getting that anymore? Well, you’re in luck: It’s Outmoded Diseases Week at LWON, and we’re going to tell you. About some of them, anyway.  We’re starting off with neurasthenia, a disease suffered by the famous: Teddy Roosevelt, Virginia Woolf, Marcel Proust, and all three James siblings (Alice made a career of hers).

14732076526_d7bcddd134_c1867: 53-year-old female, no occupation
Diagnosis: neurasthenia
Talk very nervous and excitable.  Complains of mistiness of vision and palpitations and of general weakness, chiefly of both arms and right leg, right foot is very numb.  Does not drag leg when walking.  Has been unable to do any work for a year.

The nerves of a neurasthenic are weak, (“-asthenia” meaning incapacity, as in the muscle weakness of myasthenics).  That is to say, the nerves are incapable of carrying enough energy, they over-react to the senses, they provide insuffcient motor force.  Afflicted patients present with a number of diverse and vague symptoms but in general, have lost control over their sensations, thoughts, impressions, and muscles.  This varied but general debility has no physical explanation; it is solely a matter of the body’s inability to function.  Neurasthenia is a morbid condition of the brain.

1900: 25-year-old female, husband a laborer
Diagnosis: neurasthenia
Complaint: headache, backache, palpitations, indigestion, shortness of breath, pricking and jumping pains all over.  Duration 3 years.

Neurasthenia was named in 1869 by an American neurologist, George Beard, and is treated by specialists in neurology.  It occurs in intellectuals with refined nervous systems and in masters of men and captains of industry under great nervous strain and in women whose naturally sensitive nervous systems are burdened with the necessity of reproduction and overwhelmed by education.  It has become a fashionable disease and is widely diagnosed, especially among members of the upper classes who consult physicians in private practices.  Neurologists working in public charity hospitals also record many neurasthenics among the lower classes.

The neurasthenic patients are advised to take rugged vacations or calm vacations, are treated with rest cures, prescribed nerve tonics, administered electric therapy and hydrotherapy.  None of these treatments work except those that do.

1930:  34-year-old male clerk
Diagnosis: neurosis
After the war age 30, patient went back to work as a clerk. Afraid of meeting people. Had to give up work. It was as if he had lost all his power and he could not walk more than fifty yards. After 2 months of bed rest, he felt much better and kept at work about 2 years before he got the next bad attack of nervous exhaustion.  He felt immensely tired and used all his spare time and weekends to lie down for rest.

Somewhere around 1930, neurasthenia disappeared; no one was diagnosed neurasthenic any more.  Explanations vary.  Maybe the neurasthenics themselves disappeared: Freudians say that greater understanding of the unconscious led to more effective psychoanalytic treatments; feminists say that women’s emancipation decreased women’s need to express frustration by getting sick.   Or more probably, neurologists, unable to find a physical basis for their patients’ ills, moved the diagnosis from the brain to the psyche, from neurology over to the field of psychology.

And sure enough, according to a study of records of a public hospital in Queen Square, London, the disappearance of the diagnosis of neurasthenia coincided with the appearance of a diagnosis of neurosis.  Neurosis was split first into 4 sub-categories, then into 11; and if all sub-categories were added together, the fraction of neurotics was the same as the earlier fraction of neurasthenics.

1934:  59-year-old female, lace cutter
Diagnosis:  anxiety neurosis
She feels weak all over and occasionally the use seems to go out of her left foot.  Her legs feel numb and heavy and her hands and feet tingle and occasionally ‘go all scarlet.’  Two years ago she had what she described as a ‘stroke.’  She went black and seemed to lose all power in her arms and legs for a few moments.  She was completely restored by a little brandy.

So neurasthenia went away but the neurasthenics didn’t.  They are variously diagnosed with chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, post-traumatic stress syndrome, and depression; and are variously treated by psychologists, psychiatrists, rheumatologists, and infectious diseases specialists. The psychiatrist who did the Queen Square study ends her article with a conclusion so obvious and sensible it almost doesn’t need saying.  It should nevertheless be written across the top of every science writer’s computer:

  • that physicians have always seen patients with vague but related and unexplainable symptoms,
  • and that their diagnoses have changed names and have been shifted around various medical fields;
  • but the people with these symptoms still have the symptoms,
  • and their treatment isn’t much more effective than it was in the 19th century.  Sometimes something works, sometimes it doesn’t.

1995:  47-year-old female, university faculty
Diagnoses:  depression, chronic fatigue syndrome
Maintains a career of writing and teaching but it completely exhausts her; is unable to drive a car or open a bank account, can hardly cook her own meals; finds social engagement difficult and often asks her husband to break dates for her.  Treatment with blood pressure medication and regimen of fast walking is unsuccessful; as is long-term treatment with anti-depressants and psychotherapy. Eventual divorce seemed to help.

_________

Sources: except where otherwise indicated, most of the information, some of the wording, and all-but-one of the case studies came from Death of neurasthenia and its psychological reincarnation by Ruth E. Taylor, published in the British Journal of Psychiatry in 2001.  It’s both readable and sensible.

The subject of neurasthenia was also covered last year in Smithsonian, and more recently in The Atlantic.  Appropriately, given the subject, those articles and this post are all about different things.

Photo credit:  Irina, James Whistler’s Symphony in White, via Flickr

 

The Last Word

The logical endpoint of Manifest Destiny is...RadioShack? A mural in Vale, Oregon. Photo by Sarah Gilman.

March 14-18, 2016

This week at LWON we ask five pressing questions:

Sprickets, cave crickets, roach spiders, camel crickets. No matter what you call them, they are a form of hunched, evil popcorn that will leap toward you. We build them basements, they sproing in our faces. How is that adaptive?

Interest in science seems to be an innate predisposition, so how heritable is it?

If there is epidemiology around disease and social unrest, mustn’t there be similar mechanisms at work around compassion and enlightenment?

Is human encroachment a more fitting tribute to the pioneers’ journey through Oregon than any preservation of their pristine view along the way?

Curling stones should curl in the opposite direction from what we observe. Why is that?

 

Photo: Sarah Gilman

Men with Stones

curlingThey have us singing O Canada! – but it fails to produce the effect of a rousing round of The Star-Spangled Banner in Yankee Stadium. Far from riled up, we feel like children at school again, trying to remember how the French bits go. Then the rocks hit the ice.

It is the world’s premier curling bonspiel – the Brier – where more prestige is attached to a win than a gold medal from the World Championships, at which the Brier-winning team will represent Canada. More than a hundred thousand well-behaved spectators have gathered over the course of the week to watch four-man teams from most provinces and territories vie for the title.

If you’ve ever tried your hand at curling in a rec league, struggling to maintain balance as you throw a stone, there is growing incredulity here as the professionals put that stone where they want it, at exactly the right speed, bending around obstacles, time after time. All of the cruel chaos of almost-universal incompetence is gone, and what remains is pure science. But elements of that science are in dispute. Continue reading

The Oregon Trail Game

Oregon Ouroboros small LWONThe first time I played the Oregon Trail computer game – a parody of American westward expansion inflicted on countless school kids – was this winter. I was snug in bed, as befits a prospective pioneer facing one of history’s largest human migrations. Up to 500,000 settlers set out along the Oregon and California Trails in the mid-19th century. For my own treacherous 2,000-mile trip, I chose to be a banker from Boston, because I had just seen The Big Short and longed to inflict virtual revenge on the financial sector. I named this banker Beverly, since the game gave me no option to be a woman. Beverly’s sundry family members would be Pot Roast, Potato, Death, and – improbably in this bunch at least – Steven.

Predictably, Death was first to die. She drowned along with two oxen not long after we embarked from Missouri, when I tried to ford a river instead of paying the toll for a ferry. Steven, meanwhile, was plagued by misfortunes that will be familiar to all who’ve played this game. First he was exhausted, then broken-armed, then grappling with dysentery, then lost, then down with cholera. I finally ended his misery by crashing the raft bearing our covered wagon into a rock on the Columbia River, drowning us both near the end of the line in Oregon.

The game is a culty 1970s simplification of a complex historical event that contributed to the violent displacement of indigenous people and laid the foundations for today’s urban Northwest. But Americans have been preoccupied with valorizing and simulating the pioneer experience almost since the United States began colonizing the West Coast. Continue reading