Mass update.
Nov. 7th, 2006 05:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaVoted on my way to work this morning. On a Diebold machine.
Now I am fretting. If Democrats can't pull this election off, they can't win anything. And I actually worry that it might be the case.
I am mortified that the Maryland Senate race is so close.
Fret fret fret.
LJ:
I just haven't felt much like updating, lately. I've half-written a bunch of posts in my head, but nothing makes it on to the screen. Instead I've been taking up much more worthwhile, productive online pursuits, like being the last person in the Western Hemisphere to discover Sudoku.
But posting takes my mind off fretting momentarily, so here's a mega-update of several disjointed areas. Bear with me.
Work:
An interesting opportunity has arisen. It looks as though we're going to start working with the university's massive Center for Vaccine Development. They run a series of studies in which research participants are admitted to an locked inpatient facility and kept in isolation for a few weeks - either because they've been given a live-virus vaccine, or because they're participating in a vaccine test which requires them to be exposed to an infectious agent. They're looking for a psychologist to evaluate potential volunteers for their ability to tolerate study conditions, and possibly to deal with emergency psych issues that arise on the ward, and Lydia has volunteered me.
In the short run, it will help pay a small portion of my salary. In the longer run, there's the potential of some very interesting research opportunities. Previous studies have found that psychological factors (especially stress) affect the way the immune system responds to vaccination. For example, they've looked at the timing of medical students' Hepatitis B vaccinations, and found that students vaccinated at the beginning of the year developed immunity earlier in the vaccine series than students who were immunized just before final exams. But this line of research is still in its infancy - we know that the general effect exists, but not a great deal about its clinical implications, the subtleties of how it applies, which psychological factors matter most, etc. If we get involved with the Center for Vaccine Development, we'll be beautifully positioned to do some studies of our own, in an area where there is so much still to learn. How cool would that be?
One of the things Lydia and I are discussing is how this concept might apply to bioterrorism attacks. The primary response to something like a smallpox attack will be a massive vaccination campaign. How will the effectiveness of those vaccinations be affected by the (presumed) prevailing atmosphere of panic? Would we actually need to plan to distribute higher doses of vaccine to ensure immunity in the face of an immune system compromised by extreme acute stress? Okay, so it would be hard to construct a study to test that question... but right now, I don't think anyone is even asking the questions. This might be a chance to really do something important.
Music:
Little-known benefits of organized religion: a member of my church works for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, and periodically he offers free concert tickets through the church e-mail list. Saturday night, I got tickets for a concert featuring works Mozart composed in his last year of life. I was blown away by the Clarinet Concerto in A Major - I didn't know a clarinet could even sound like that - but the pinnacle of the evening, the music that sent me away thoroughly drunk, was the Requiem.
I used to sing classical music. I never had a solo-quality voice, but I was an accomplished choral singer. In high school I sang with my Dad in a community group called the Cantata Singers; I was one of three high school members, and most of the rest had been singing the great sacred music repertoire for thirty years or more. I learned so much, and loved singing with them so much.
A mixed community and college choir in a nearby town had plans to perform the Mozart Requiem. My Dad and I drove over there every week to rehearse, but at the last moment he decided that he didn't think the director was up to snuff. The dress rehearsal for the Requiem conflicted with an ordinary Cantata Singers rehearsal, so Dad decided that we wouldn't go... or, obviously, sing in the concert. Over the next few years I had several other near-miss experiences with the Requiem - I arrived at Reed College a year after the college chorus performed it, had an unbreakable regular commitment on the nights when a Portland community chorus was going to be rehearsing it, and so on. I've never sung it with an orchestra, never performed it...
...but I know every note of the music, and I felt it, lived it, along with the BSO. It was an amazing concert, and it's made me miss singing classical music so acutely. My voice has really gone to crap after all these years without singing, though.
Alex's weight/diet/doctor's visit:
She gained a pound since her last visit. That might not sound like much, but it represents nearly 5% of her body weight, and it's enough to start her moving back up the growth chart. She's at the 17th percentile for all girls, and the 5th percentile for girls of her height. Which is fine; there's nothing wrong with being a skinny kid. What was scary was her drop from the 70th percentile to the 60th, to the 50th, to the 12th.
I wound up continuing to keep the food diary (after my initial frustration), and spent an hour or so entering everything into FitDay. It was useful. I learned that some things I think of as good foods for her to eat - Cheerios, for example - don't really amount to much nutrition in the small portions she actually consumes. Interestingly enough, it turned out that her calorie intake didn't vary all that much between what I mentally categorized as a "good eating day" and a "bad eating day." She took in 850-950 calories per day on all three diary days. Which turns out to be substantially less than the 1300 calories recommended for a toddler of her height, but I am refusing to worry about that right now. She's growing - ergo, she's eating enough.
We did have blood drawn to test for anemia, because of my concerns that she's seemed tired/low energy. He ordered our second lead test at the same time, which was nice - one less needlestick. Although the phlebotomist was excellent; Alex's crying peaked with the tourniquet, and she didn't seem to notice the needle going in at all.
In other doctor's appointment news: he still hears the heart murmur, but it's very soft. Everything else looks fine. We refused the Hepatitis A and flu vaccines, and our pediatrician seemed more pleased than concerned. He said he finds it embarrassing that last year he was supposed to convince parents of 3-year-olds that their kids didn't need a flu shot, and this year he's supposed to convince the very same parents that now their kids do need one.
Conversations with my daughter, Part IV:
Alex: lifts forkful of corn to Michael's mouth and painstakingly guides it in.
Michael: innocently eats corn.
Alex: No, no, Papa - Alex's corn!
Me: Alex, it's time to teach you a new word: "entrapment."
Alex: Thanks.
(We give Alex a mini Nestle Crunch bar (no flames, please), part of her Halloween loot.)
Me: There are letters on the other side, see? (C-R-U-N-C-H)
Alex: C, R...
Me: What other letters are there?
Alex: (brief pause) Two C's!
I know it's awfully early to extrapolate, but conversations like that second one make me worry about how we'll meet her educational needs.
Now I am fretting. If Democrats can't pull this election off, they can't win anything. And I actually worry that it might be the case.
I am mortified that the Maryland Senate race is so close.
Fret fret fret.
LJ:
I just haven't felt much like updating, lately. I've half-written a bunch of posts in my head, but nothing makes it on to the screen. Instead I've been taking up much more worthwhile, productive online pursuits, like being the last person in the Western Hemisphere to discover Sudoku.
But posting takes my mind off fretting momentarily, so here's a mega-update of several disjointed areas. Bear with me.
Work:
An interesting opportunity has arisen. It looks as though we're going to start working with the university's massive Center for Vaccine Development. They run a series of studies in which research participants are admitted to an locked inpatient facility and kept in isolation for a few weeks - either because they've been given a live-virus vaccine, or because they're participating in a vaccine test which requires them to be exposed to an infectious agent. They're looking for a psychologist to evaluate potential volunteers for their ability to tolerate study conditions, and possibly to deal with emergency psych issues that arise on the ward, and Lydia has volunteered me.
In the short run, it will help pay a small portion of my salary. In the longer run, there's the potential of some very interesting research opportunities. Previous studies have found that psychological factors (especially stress) affect the way the immune system responds to vaccination. For example, they've looked at the timing of medical students' Hepatitis B vaccinations, and found that students vaccinated at the beginning of the year developed immunity earlier in the vaccine series than students who were immunized just before final exams. But this line of research is still in its infancy - we know that the general effect exists, but not a great deal about its clinical implications, the subtleties of how it applies, which psychological factors matter most, etc. If we get involved with the Center for Vaccine Development, we'll be beautifully positioned to do some studies of our own, in an area where there is so much still to learn. How cool would that be?
One of the things Lydia and I are discussing is how this concept might apply to bioterrorism attacks. The primary response to something like a smallpox attack will be a massive vaccination campaign. How will the effectiveness of those vaccinations be affected by the (presumed) prevailing atmosphere of panic? Would we actually need to plan to distribute higher doses of vaccine to ensure immunity in the face of an immune system compromised by extreme acute stress? Okay, so it would be hard to construct a study to test that question... but right now, I don't think anyone is even asking the questions. This might be a chance to really do something important.
Music:
Little-known benefits of organized religion: a member of my church works for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, and periodically he offers free concert tickets through the church e-mail list. Saturday night, I got tickets for a concert featuring works Mozart composed in his last year of life. I was blown away by the Clarinet Concerto in A Major - I didn't know a clarinet could even sound like that - but the pinnacle of the evening, the music that sent me away thoroughly drunk, was the Requiem.
I used to sing classical music. I never had a solo-quality voice, but I was an accomplished choral singer. In high school I sang with my Dad in a community group called the Cantata Singers; I was one of three high school members, and most of the rest had been singing the great sacred music repertoire for thirty years or more. I learned so much, and loved singing with them so much.
A mixed community and college choir in a nearby town had plans to perform the Mozart Requiem. My Dad and I drove over there every week to rehearse, but at the last moment he decided that he didn't think the director was up to snuff. The dress rehearsal for the Requiem conflicted with an ordinary Cantata Singers rehearsal, so Dad decided that we wouldn't go... or, obviously, sing in the concert. Over the next few years I had several other near-miss experiences with the Requiem - I arrived at Reed College a year after the college chorus performed it, had an unbreakable regular commitment on the nights when a Portland community chorus was going to be rehearsing it, and so on. I've never sung it with an orchestra, never performed it...
...but I know every note of the music, and I felt it, lived it, along with the BSO. It was an amazing concert, and it's made me miss singing classical music so acutely. My voice has really gone to crap after all these years without singing, though.
Alex's weight/diet/doctor's visit:
She gained a pound since her last visit. That might not sound like much, but it represents nearly 5% of her body weight, and it's enough to start her moving back up the growth chart. She's at the 17th percentile for all girls, and the 5th percentile for girls of her height. Which is fine; there's nothing wrong with being a skinny kid. What was scary was her drop from the 70th percentile to the 60th, to the 50th, to the 12th.
I wound up continuing to keep the food diary (after my initial frustration), and spent an hour or so entering everything into FitDay. It was useful. I learned that some things I think of as good foods for her to eat - Cheerios, for example - don't really amount to much nutrition in the small portions she actually consumes. Interestingly enough, it turned out that her calorie intake didn't vary all that much between what I mentally categorized as a "good eating day" and a "bad eating day." She took in 850-950 calories per day on all three diary days. Which turns out to be substantially less than the 1300 calories recommended for a toddler of her height, but I am refusing to worry about that right now. She's growing - ergo, she's eating enough.
We did have blood drawn to test for anemia, because of my concerns that she's seemed tired/low energy. He ordered our second lead test at the same time, which was nice - one less needlestick. Although the phlebotomist was excellent; Alex's crying peaked with the tourniquet, and she didn't seem to notice the needle going in at all.
In other doctor's appointment news: he still hears the heart murmur, but it's very soft. Everything else looks fine. We refused the Hepatitis A and flu vaccines, and our pediatrician seemed more pleased than concerned. He said he finds it embarrassing that last year he was supposed to convince parents of 3-year-olds that their kids didn't need a flu shot, and this year he's supposed to convince the very same parents that now their kids do need one.
Conversations with my daughter, Part IV:
Alex: lifts forkful of corn to Michael's mouth and painstakingly guides it in.
Michael: innocently eats corn.
Alex: No, no, Papa - Alex's corn!
Me: Alex, it's time to teach you a new word: "entrapment."
Alex: Thanks.
(We give Alex a mini Nestle Crunch bar (no flames, please), part of her Halloween loot.)
Me: There are letters on the other side, see? (C-R-U-N-C-H)
Alex: C, R...
Me: What other letters are there?
Alex: (brief pause) Two C's!
I know it's awfully early to extrapolate, but conversations like that second one make me worry about how we'll meet her educational needs.
Dieting
Date: 2006-11-08 02:55 am (UTC)His theory is that you gain weight when your weight is below your set point and that one of the ways to raise your set point is to eat ditto foods. If I understand it correctly, the sameness of the food tells the body that this is a time of abundance so eat up before winter comes.