“Naturally Obsessed”: A Graduate Student’s Perspective

Last night, at the CUNY Graduate Center in Manhattan, I attended a screening of a wonderful documentary by Richard and Carole Rifkind entitled “Naturally Obsessed: The Making of a Scientist”. This film documented the path and travails of 3 graduate students who were lucky enough to be in the laboratory of Dr. Lawrence Shapiro at Columbia University’s College of Physicians & Surgeons in New York City. The beauty and clarity with which the film was shot made the graduate student experience feel as real as any film could. As someone who got her PhD in developmental and molecular biology from another well known biomedical research institution, I felt that the experiences of the students featured in the film were prettier than my own (mine was particularly harrowing), but in many ways, the film was dead on.

 

Wolves

I have always loved animals. When I was about 3 years old, I was fascinated with a beautiful collie that lived in my building. This dog did not like people, but I loved him. I distinctly remember one day running around him, hugging, petting and talking to him, and I remember hearing him growl (he was taller than me), but for some reason, he put up with the unwanted attention. I only remember being acquainted with him that one time – I think after that, my Mom and his owner colluded to keep me away from him.

 

Life at the Art-Science Interface

Currently on view at the New York Academy of Sciences Art Gallery is an exhibit of the molecular illustrations of Kenneth Eward. I followed the links to Kenneth’s website and found one of the most captivating animated illustrations of the molecular development of human life. His “A Window Into Human Life” won an honorable mention at the 2008 Science and Engineering Visualization Challenge, sponsored by the National Science Foundation.

 

On the Eve of an Historic Presidential Election

We are living at a truly monumental moment in history, as we stand on the brink of what will probably be one of the most important presidential elections in all of United States history. The air is absolutely crackling with the anticipation of the election of the first African American President of the United States of America.

 

This Time, It’s Physiological

According to the diagnostic test in the ground-breaking book The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron, Ph.D., I am a “Highly Sensitive Person” (HSP). In her book, Dr. Aron, a pioneering psychologist, cites major studies demonstrating that approximately 15-20% of the human population possess a nervous system that, due to genetically inherited physiological characteristics, cause them to experience greatly heightened sensitivity to stress in any environment they find themselves in. This inherited trait of heightened arousal is demonstrated also in similar proportions (15-20%) in several other mammalian species. In other words, highly sensitive individuals are much more easily aroused by subtle cues in their environment, which many people are less likely to pick up on.

 

Remembering September 11, 2001

I have been trying to sort of just go about my business without getting too caught up in the heavy spirit of this day, but its everywhere I look and almost all I hear on the radio, TV.  I find the only way I can really do any justice to the profound loss that resulted from this unspeakable tragedy is to just recount where I was that day, and how my family and friends and I dealt with the horrible news. Thank G-d, no one in our immediate family was lost, nor were any of our close friends. I can only pray for those who were less fortunate, and I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of their loss.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was getting ready to go to a doctor’s appointment in Manhattan. We were living in student housing at Einstein in the Bronx. My husband called me into the living room, where he was watching the news on TV. There was one of the World Trade Center towers, burning. A plane had just flown right into it. I immediately started crying, saying “Its a mistake!, it’s a mistake!” My mind could not absorb it. I was already running late for my doctor’s appointment and really did not want to miss it. I went down to the garage, got into my car and set out for the city.

As I was driving south on the Bronx River Parkway, I saw both towers burning in the distance. I was listening to the radio and heard about the second tower, then the pentagon, and another plane that crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania, that was supposed to have crashed into the White House. It had become very clear that this was a terrorist attack, not just a tragic accident, which was my initial reaction to the news on the TV. Despite hearing all this on the radio, my brain simply could not process what was really happening. Some part of me kept telling myself that they will get everything under control and it will be all right. I got on the Cross Bronx Expressway. When I reached the long underpass that led to the exit for the George Washington Bridge, the electronic signs that normally state traffic conditions read STATE EMERGENCY. The police brought all traffic to a halt. I was stuck under the underpass with many other motorists. Everyone was trying to call their loved ones on their cell phones, but the lines were so jammed that it was impossible to get through. We all got out of our cars and were lending our cell phones to eachother to try and reach our families. I was unable to get through to my husband.

After about an hour, the police directed all traffic on to the Henry Hudson Parkway North, and I proceeded back to Einstein. I went immediately over to my husbands lab, where he was waiting for me. He pulled me on to his lap and held me and said “You’re so stupid! I can’t believe you went! Thank G-d you’re back!” I just sat there in shock and we held eachother.

After a little while I went downstairs to my lab, where everyone was trying to go about their work, but in a sort of daze. I remember saying to a post doc who was a friend of mine “I can’t think”. I really couldn’t. A bit later on, my husband and I and a bunch of our friends tried to find a place to give blood, because it was the only thing we could think of doing that made any sense. Einstein/Weiler Hospital, which is right next to the research building we were in, had way too many volunteers, as did Jacoby Hospital. We found this out from people who were walking away from the hospitals as we walked toward them. So we walked over to Bronx Psych, which is also close by. I sat next to an Ex-Con with tattoos covering his arms, who was also waiting to give blood. That day, there were no differences between any of us.

We wound up not giving blood after all – the hospital staff informed us that there was no point – the staff of the hospitals downtown who were preparing to receive the wounded had waited in vain, since most people caught in the attack were already dead or presumed dead after being buried under tons of debris.

I remember all of this very vividly, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

 

Fat Cell Switcheroo

Humans, mice — indeed all mammals — have two types of fat cells in their bodies; white and brown. White fat cells store energy. In contrast, brown fat cells dissipate energy as heat, thus counteracting obesity. Much to the chagrin of humans living in industrialized societies, most fat cells in our (adult) bodies are white fat cells. While this trait served our kind well throughout our evolutionary history, we now face a vast abundance of inexpensive, easily accessible, high energy content foods. This, combined with our body’s tendency to want to store up energy for times when food is scarce, leads to obesity and its accompanying adverse health effects. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have more brown fat cells and less white fat cells?

Scientists like Harvard Medical School’s Bruce Spiegelman would like to figure out a way to help us do just that! Spiegelman, who studies mammalian embryonic fat cell development, is conducting research to understand the adipogenic (i.e. how adipose, or fat cells arise) lineage. One key question that Dr. Spiegelman and his group seek to address is how white and brown fat cell fates are determined.

To answer this question, Dr. Spiegelman’s group performed a screen for molecular regulators including transcription factors that may be unique to either brown or white fat cells. The researchers identified a transcriptional co-regulator called PRDM16, which is expressed exclusively in brown fat cells. When the investigators studied the effect of increasing PRDM16 expression in white fat cell precursors in culture, they observed that the overall gene expression profile was distinctly that of brown fat cells. Then, they made transgenic mice that selectively overexpressed PRDM16 in white fat cells, and found that pockets of brown fat cells grew in the white fat cell depots. Similar results are obtained when mice are exposed to low temperatures for extended periods of time, or by prolonged exposure to b-adrenergic stimulation. Together, these results suggest that PRDM16 is an excellent candidate for a master molecular switch that can convert white fat cells into brown fat cells. However, since “suggestion” is not proof, the researchers performed additional experiments to investigate this.

To their surprise, the scientists found that when PRDM16 expression is inhibited in primary brown fat cells in culture, they differentiated not into white fat cells, but into myotubes, or skeletal muscle cells! This result suggested that brown and white fat cells did not come from one common progenitor cell type. Instead, they may in fact be two entirely separate lineages. Additional experiments provided strong evidence for this.

So where do these results leave Bruce Spiegelman and his group? The data showing that white fat cells can become brown fat cells by overexpression of PRDM16 still hold promise for therapy. Spiegelman aspires to make this type of therapy a reality, by employing a transplant model. White fat cells, which are easily obtained by liposuction, can be engineered to express PRDM16, and transplanted back into the original fat cell donor. These experiments are currently being performed in mice.

Important questions remain. For example, how many cells would be needed for the procedure to succeed, and how the body would respond to the engineered cells? Could these engineered “brown” fat cells lead to positive results by reducing obesity and restoring energy balance, or could there be negative effects? Bruce Spiegelman as well as many people suffering from obesity are sincerely hoping for the former.

This entry is based on a talk given by Dr. Spiegelman on Thursday, May 15, 2008 at the New York Academy of Sciences. Dr. Spiegelman was a featured speaker at the NYAS Conference on Integrative Physiology.

 

Amazing Gazania

“Daisy A Day” by Judith Meskill.

If anyone has any insight into which genes may participate in giving rise to this pattern, an how they do it, I would be most grateful. I suspect it’s a homeodomain expression pattern but after several searches, I couldn’t find anything informative. Thanks!

 

The “Second Brain”

I studied T’ai Chi for a year and enjoyed it immensely, I hope to go back to it when my back is better. A fellow class mate had introduced me to Mantak Chia, a master of Taoist philosophy and healing. I sincerely hope that Western medicine, which I believe is just starting to open itself up to Eastern/Chinese medicine, will continue to open its mind to and absorb the immense genius of these Arts. I bought and read one of Chia’s books, Tan Tien Chi Kung: Foundational Exercises for Empty Force and Perineum Power (Destiny Books, Rochester VT), in which he discusses balancing and healing principles based on chi, which he defines as “energy” or “life force”, and kung, meaning “work.” He defines the “lower tan tien”, located in the lower abdomen, as the “energy reservoir” of the body, also referred to as the “ocean of Chi.” I’m not even going to begin to try to explain any of these things, but I did want to mention one thing I found very striking, regarding what Chia refers to as the “second brain.”

According to Chia, in Taoist theory, there is “an upper mind, or brain”, which is thought to be logical, and a “lower brain”, located in the gut, which is intuitive. As someone who grew up in Western society, I was completely blown away by the wisdom of this ancient concept. Chia refers to a New York times article from 1996 by Susan Blakeslee, which discusses the “new field of neurogastroenterology.” Several Google searches on this topic did not reveal much about the link between the brain in the gut and obesity. I searched for “neurogastroenterology” and “obesity” (both as abstract or title words) on PubMed and found a total of 1 article, published in 2001 (Näslund E, Hellström PM, Kral JG. The gut and food intake: an update for surgeons. J Gastrointest Surg. 2001 Sep-Oct;5(5):556-67). I find this pretty incredible. It could be for one of several reasons: the pharmaceutical industry is working on top secret medications based on research in neurogastroenterology and keeping it all top secret until their drug is ready for clinical trials; or the western medical establishment is still too biased against obesity to even think this is worth looking into. I sincerely hope it’s the former: I am not a proponent of hiding discoveries from the public but it is completely understandable when so much is at stake. No researcher wants to get “scooped”, particularly in this situation, where a successful drug could be THE gold mine of a lifetime. Hurry up, guys, we need these drugs BADLY.

 

My First Guest Blogger Writes About… The Wad of Fat: A Secret Every Woman Needs to Know

I am honored to have Elise LeQuire as my first guest blogger. Here she shares her unfortunate experience with the gross insensitivity that many breast cancer patients face from the medical establishment. Elise is a highly experienced freelance Science Writer and a member of the National Association of Science Writers (NASW). You can learn more about Elise’s extensive experience at http://www.eliselequire.com/.

The Wad of Fat: A Secret Every Woman Needs to Know

For women diagnosed with breast cancer, perhaps facing mastectomy, there is a dirty little secret out there we need to know in advance, before surgery. It’s called the wad of fat. Listen up.

It’ll never happen to you, right? Wrong. You know the statistics.

I learned about the wad of fat after surgery and several post-surgical office visits to aspirate the swelling at the surgical site. The last time, the surgeon was out of the office so the nurse performed the procedure, and said, well, that’s it, you don’t need to come back.

But wait a minute, there is still swelling, I protested. Oh, that’s the wad of fat, she says.

The wad of fat ? It’s the wad of fat the surgeon leaves in case you have reconstructive surgery.

I wanted to strangle the surgeon. I wanted to give him a bra with a Smurf Ball sewn into one side and ask him to wear it around for a while to see how it feels.

You see, before surgery, the surgeon asked me casually if I wanted reconstructive surgery. No, I said, with confidence. Breast cancer runs in the family and what was good enough for Aunt Faye is good enough for me, i.e. a prosthesis. I also came armed with studies showing that women who have the surgery are less satisfied overall with their quality of life than those who don’t. I have my theories, which have to do with their self image and the type of men they choose to hang with.

I also knew that fewer than 20 percent of mastectomy patients opt for the surgery, and of those, a significant number do not have, as doctors like to call it, good results. I had looked at images on line of the procedure, which compared to a mastectomy is much more invasive, takes more time, and poses many more risks. So no, I insisted, it’s not for me.

The surgeon had told about one of his patients who, in her 80s and after a decade or more post-mastectomy, decided to go for it. I gave him my most vacant stare. I woke up after surgery not knowing about the wad of fat. Whatever happened to informed consent?

Every year I get a post card in the mail reminding me of my rights to reconstructive surgery under the Women’s Health and Cancer Rights Act of 1998. Fine, elective surgery is not an option. Removing the wad of fat is elective surgery.

If rock stars and news anchors are now “outing” about their baldness, and men shaving their heads in solidarity, why are women not also “outing” about their lopsidedness or completely flat profile? Why don’t we old feminists just “out” completely and burn the prosthesis along with the bra? What better reminder to the whole world of the prevalence of breast cancer and the need to find ways to prevent, rather than to cure, cancer, than to see women walking around with one breast or no breast?

Oh, and on the way out the door one day from the surgeon’s office, I overheard the reconstructive surgeon confiding in a nurse that he loved his job if only he did not have to deal with patients: women in deep angst about the pros and cons of reconstructive surgery.

Well maybe he should get a job sculpting in clay. Hands off of me, please.