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History, Medicine and Society, NIH, Public Health

“Don’t go to bed with a malaria mosquito:” exploring World War II medical posters

"Don't go to bed with a malaria mosquito:" exploring World War II medical posters

After exploring Stanford’s collection of historical medical images last week after a tour of the School of Medicine, I got hooked. Hooked on historical medical images — a quirky interest tailor-made for the internet. Turns out the National Institutes of Health’s U.S. National Library of Medicine maintains a massive image library, one that includes some fabulous propaganda posters from World War II, including the lady mosquito with the alluring proboscis (above).

Others in the World War II poster collection focus on venereal diseases, recruiting nurses and doctors, encouraging blood donations and even curbing noise or visiting the dentist.

And that’s just World War II posters. Its Flickr collection is tantalizing, kicking off with a series of medical oddities reminiscent of Philadelphia’s Mütter Museum. It’s quite addictive – just warning you.

Previously: A trip down memory lane: Stories from the early days of the School of Medicine, #ACT4NIH seeks stories to spur research investment and Examining the impact of psychological distress on soldiers’ spinal injuries
Images courtesy of U.S National Library of Medicine

Aging, Health and Fitness, History, Neuroscience

Walking and aging: A historical perspective

Walk on by_flickrThe evidence that exercise helps stave off mental decline in elderly people has been mounting for several years now, but an article by Wayne Curtis in The Atlantic today puts this research in perspective by looking back a century at Edward Payson Weston’s walk from San Francisco to New York in 1909, when Weston was 70.

Curtis notes that the field of gerontology, the study of aging, had been around for less than a decade at that point. Most scientists thought brain cells were not capable of regenerating – something we know today that they’re most definitely capable of – and doctors were of the mind that too-vigorous exercise could harm mental acuity. Popular reaction to Weston’s trek is documented through newspaper accounts of the day:

A column in the Dallas Morning News admitted that many considered Weston’s walk from ocean to ocean “foolishness” and “an idle waste of time.” But, the writer asked, was it “preferred to the needless senility into which far too many men begin to drift at the period of three score years and 10?”

Curtis eventually moves into recent decades and details some of the recent research into how moderate to vigorous walking can actually improve mental acuity in several populations, including Alzheimer’s patients:

The results [of one long-term study], published in the journal Neurology, were sweeping and conclusive: Those who walked the most cut in half their risk of developing memory problems. The optimal exercise for cognitive health benefits, the 
researchers concluded, was to walk six to nine miles each week. That’s a mile to a mile and a half a day, without walking on Sundays if you’re inclined to follow Weston’s example of resting on the Sabbath. (This study concluded that walking an additional mile didn’t help all that much.)

I have to admit I’m glad I live in this century and not in Weston’s time. I don’t think I have the fortitude he showed in bucking popular opinion – or, to be honest, in walking.

Previously: Even old brains can stay healthy, says Stanford neurologistExercise and your brain: Stanford research highlighted on NIH Director’s blog and The state of Alzheimer’s research: A conversation with Stanford neurologist Michael Greicius
Photo by  Stefano Corso

Events, History, Medical Education, Medical Schools, Stanford News

A trip down memory lane: Stories from the early days of the School of Medicine

A trip down memory lane: Stories from the early days of the School of Medicine

When Philip Pizzo, MD, came to interview for the position of dean of Stanford’s medical school in 2000 he stayed in a nearby hotel. Taking a cab each day to campus for interviews, Pizzo would ask the driver to take him to the School of Medicine. Not one driver knew where to go, recounted Drew Bourn, PhD, while leading a recent architectural tour of the School of Medicine.

At the time the dean’s office was buried in a courtyard of the Stone Building and hidden from street view. But now the medical school has a face, the stately Li Ka Shing Center for Learning and Knowledge, which will soon have a twin to the east. Within a decade or so, a new, matching building will replace the research building currently beside it.

This was just one of the many stories Bourn shared about the first medical school on the West Coast, which has its roots in Illinois, where physician Elias Samuel Cooper, MD, diced up cadavers of executed criminals to teach surgery.

The Gold Rush brought him west, and soon the Cooper Medical College sprouted up in San Francisco, before aligning with Stanford and moving south to the Farm in the 1950s.

Its first building was the current hospital, known as the Stone Building not for its construction material, but for its architect, Edward Durrell Stone, a famous midcentury architect who designed Radio City Music Hall, among many other national and international works.

Lest I steal all of Bourn’s best bits — including how Stone met an Italian fashion writer on a plane, and before landing convinced her to marry him — I’ll leave it to you to enjoy the experience on your own. Local readers: Bourn offers tours regularly — the next is Nov. 12 at 2 PM — free and open to all. All who want to spend an enjoyable hour learning, that is.

For more fun photos, check out the Stanford History Medical Center’s Flickr collection.

Previously: Stanford building houses one of the world’s largest medical simulation facilities, Stanford’s Clark Center, home to Bio-X, turns 10 and A new era in education at Stanford’s Medical School
Photos from Stanford History Medical Center

 

Clinical Trials, History, Immunology, Infectious Disease, Research

Stanford scientists strive to solve centuries-old puzzle: Why are young children so vulnerable to disease?

Stanford scientists strive to solve centuries-old puzzle: Why are young children so vulnerable to disease?

512px-Gabriël_Metsu_-_The_Sick_Child_-_WGA15091

Several months ago, Stanford immunologist Mark Davis, PhD, went for a stroll in Union Cemetery in Redwood City, Calif. (not far from the Stanford campus). Graves there date from the Civil War-era and Davis, who’s currently immersed in a study of childhood immunity, was intrigued.

“In the early years, you see entire families — mom, dad, and then a whole bunch of children’s headstones,” Davis told me. “It really brought home to me how differently we live now that we just take for granted a kid will survive and grow up.”

Vaccines arrived and childhood survival rates soared. Yet young children remain much more vulnerable to infectious diseases than adults. Why?

Davis and his team think vaccines trigger a set of changes that strengthens children’s immune systems — allowing them to ward off diseases they haven’t even heard of before. That’s why the researchers are conducting a group of studies, all focused on revealing new details about the immune system’s response to the flu vaccine. They need participants, particularly young children who have never received a flu vaccine before. They also need older children and twins. All participants will receive a licensed flu vaccine that will help protect from influenza this coming winter.

Davis and colleagues plan to investigate the children’s development of two types of immune cells — memory T and B cells — that are specialized to recognize certain foreign invaders. Interestingly, adults have T cells that spot diseases they’ve never been exposed to, such as HIV, Davis said. Yet newborns lack these specialized cells, leaving them vulnerable to infection.

“Somewhere between birth and adulthood we see the appearance of these memory T cells without having the particular disease,” Davis said. “It’s a real puzzle.”

Davis suspects that routine vaccines and infections may spur the development in children of a broad spectrum of memory T cells, ones that recognize all sorts of diseases. One study plans to follow children for several years, perhaps revealing how, and when, the children develop a full compliment of these memory T cells, Davis told me.

The studies are possible thanks to the development of new analytical techniques, according to virologist and immunologist Harry Greenberg, MD, who is working with Davis on the influenza studies.

“We’ve been studying influenza for half a century, but these new assays developed in the last five years offer hope we can develop better ways of protecting more people,” Greenberg told me.

More information about the flu vaccine studies and the Stanford-LPCH Vaccine Program is available here or (650) 498-7284.

Becky Bach is a proud graduate of the UC Santa Cruz Science Communication Program (go Banana Slugs!) and a science-writing intern at the Office of Communications and Public Affairs.

Previously: Q&A about enterovirus-D68 with Stanford/Packard infectious disease expert, Gut bacteria may influence effectiveness of flu vaccine and Side effects of childhood vaccines are extremely rare, new study finds
Photo by Gabriel Metsu

History, In the News, Stanford News

Remembering Kenyan statesman and Stanford medical school alumnus Njoroge Mungai

Remembering Kenyan statesman and Stanford medical school alumnus Njoroge Mungai

MungaiOn a visit to Kenya in 2005, I spent an extraordinary afternoon with Njoroge Mungai, MD, one of the country’s elder statesmen and a 1957 graduate of Stanford medical school. It was one of the most memorable experiences of that trip, so it was with bittersweet sentiment that I learned over the weekend that Mungai had passed on at the age of 88.

Mungai was one of the founders of modern Kenya and served the young East African country in many leadership capacities, including ministers of defense, foreign affairs, health and environment and natural resources. He helped establish the nation’s regional health care system, as well as its first medical school, which is based at the University of Nairobi.

I met Mungai on a trip to Kenya with my longtime friend and documentary photographer Karen Ande, in which we were interviewing families and children affected by AIDS. We had just spent several days with orphaned teens who were taking care of young siblings in a gritty slum neighborhood of Nairobi.

We then headed to the outskirts of the capital city to Mungai’s 45-acre estate, where he was growing roses for export. We were greeted in the expansive foyer by a stuffed lion as Mungai, a slim dapper man in a grey suit, arrived from a side door, his cane quietly tapping the floor.

We had expected perhaps an hour of his time for an interview for Stanford Medicine magazine, but it stretched well into the afternoon. After drinks on the patio, he invited us to a sumptuous buffet in a room peppered with photos of him with some of the world’s great leaders of the time.

With the air and caution of a diplomat, he told us stories of his life – from his humble beginnings as the son of a cook to his schooling in South Africa and the United States and his leadership in the revolution that led to the establishment of the Kenyan nation in 1963.

A cousin of the first Kenyan President Jomo Kenyatta, Mungai was particularly proud of his role in helping Kenya maintain a neutral stance while the world powers were creating chaos in neighboring countries in their eagerness to carve out their positions in Africa. He was also proud of his work in bringing the United Nations Environment Program to Kenya, the only country outside the West where the world organization has a presence.

We left him in the fading light of day with four dozen beautiful roses, a gift from a very gracious man.

Photo by Karen Ande

From August 11-25, Scope will be on a limited publishing schedule. During that time, you may also notice a delay in comment moderation. We’ll return to our regular schedule on August 25.

History, Nutrition

When Irish eyes prefer not to see dyed-green food

When Irish eyes prefer not to see dyed-green food

MrPotatoHeadHaving grown up in a large Irish-Catholic family that ate potatoes nearly every night for dinner, my dad all but banished the tubers from our table. Relatives of his had passed down stories (perhaps fables) of their ancestors peeling away rotten skins during the potato famine back in the Old Country, and the relative abundance of edible, inexpensive ones in Northern California during the mid-20th century had led to a reactive potato saturation, as far as he was concerned.

NPR’s The Salt blog commemorates St. Patrick’s Day 2014 with an historical note on the Great Famine and foods dyed green for the March 17 holiday: Some Irish don’t find the color so charming, much less appetizing. From the post:

The reason, [historian Christine Kinealy, PhD] explains, is the Irish potato famine of the 1840s, which forced so many Irish to flee mass starvation in their homeland in search of better times in America and elsewhere. Those who stayed behind turned to desperate measures.

“People were so deprived of food that they resorted to eating grass,” Kinealy tells The Salt. “In Irish folk memory, they talk about people’s mouths being green as they died.”

At least a million Irish died in the span of six years, says Kinealy, the founding director of Ireland’s Great Hunger Institute at Quinnipiac University in Connecticut. Which is why, for an Irishwoman like Kinealy, who hails from Dublin and County Mayo, the sight of green-tinged edibles intended as a joyous nod to Irish history can be jolting, she says.

“Before I came to America, I’d never seen a green bagel.” She says. “For Irish-Americans, they think of dying food green, they think everything is happy. But really, in terms of the famine, this is very sad imagery.”

Previously: What do Americans buy at the grocery store?
Photo by Mike Licht, NotionsCapital.com

Evolution, Genetics, History, Myths, Research, Stanford News

New genetic study: More evidence for modern Ashkenazi Jews’ ancient Hebrew patrimony

New genetic study: More evidence for modern Ashkenazi Jews' ancient Hebrew patrimony

IsraelI hail from the so-called Ashkenazi branch of Jews, who account for the great majority of all Jews in the world today. Ashkenazis are distinguished by the historical fact that, over the last couple of thousand years or so, they propagated throughout Europe, generating and maintaining tens of thousands of distinctly Jewish communities in diverse countries spanning the entire continent. My dad was born in Lithuania; my mom’s mom came from an Eastern European region that has belonged to any one of about a half-dozen countries, depending on what particular year you happen to be talking about; and my mom’s dad grew up in Russia, near the Black Sea.

Tradition holds, though, that Ashkenazi Jews ultimately trace their origins straight back to ancient Israel, whence most Jews were expelled en masse in 70 CE by their Roman conquerors and sent skittering to all parts of the globe. (Jews who initially fled to Spain and Portugal are referred to as Sephardic. Those who took up residence in Iran, Turkey, Iraq and Northern Africa, are designated as Mizrahi.)

But in the late 1970s I read what was then a recent book titled The Thirteenth Tribe, written by polymath Arthur Koestler, advancing a theory that today’s Ashkenazis descend not from the Holy Land but, rather, from Khazaria, a medieval Turkic empire in the Causasus region whose royals, caught between the rock of Islam and the hard place of Christendom, chose the politically expedient course of converting to Judaism. That hypothesis has become highly politicized, with some groups holding that Ashkenazis, who constitute half of Israel’s current population, are colonialist interlopers with zero historical claim to the land of Israel.

Plausible at the time, the Khazar-origin premise has crumbled under the onslaught of modern molecular genetics. The latest volley: a study published this week in Nature Communications. The study’s senior author, Stanford geneticist Peter Underhill, PhD, works in the lab of  Carlos Bustamante, PhD, whose high-resolution techniques have highlighted the historical hopscotch of other migratory peoples.

Underhill, Bustamante and their co-authors analyzed the Y chromosome – a piece of the human genome invariably handed down father-to-son – of a set of Ashkenazi men claiming descent from Levi,  the founder of one of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. (Names such as Levy, Levine and Levitt, for example, bespeak a Levite heritage.)

If Ashkenazis were the spawn of Khazar royals, their DNA would show it. But those Y chromosomes were as Levantine as a levant sandwich. The same genetic “signature” popped up on every Levite sampled (as well as a significant number of non-Levite Ashkenazis), strongly implying descent from a single common ancestor who lived in the Fertile Crescent between 1,500 and 2,500 years ago. That signature is absent in the Y chromosomes of modern European non-Jewish men, and in male inhabitants of what was once Khazaria.

Yes, 2,000 years is a long time, and a fellow gets lonely. Genetic studies of mitochrondria – tiny intracellular power packs that have their own dollop of DNA and are always inherited matrilineally – have conflicted (contrast this with this) but, in combination with broader studies of entire genomes, suggest that a bit of canoodling transpired between Ashkenazi men and local European women, in particular Italian women, early in that two-millenia European sojourn.

I can relate. My wife is 100 percent Italian by heritage, and my daughter by my first marriage is half-Italian.

Previously: Caribbean genetic diversity explored by Stanford/University of Miami researchers, Stanford study investigates our most-recent common ancestors and Stanford study identifies molecular mechanism that triggers Parkinson’s
Photo by cod_gabriel

History, In the News, Science

Museum sheds some light on early electric medical devices

Museum sheds some light on early electric medical devices

electric fishThis Wired.com story on the 20th century medical devices housed at the Bakken Museum had me at “electric torpedo fish.”

As the story explains, we’ve experimented with the possible medical applications of electricity since 1st century AD when Roman physician Scribonius Largus applied electric torpedo fish to his patients as a therapy for headaches, gout, or hemorrhoids.

We’ve refined our use of electricity for medicine a bit over the years. The Bakken Museum in Minneapolis showcases some of our progress in this field.

From the piece:

The museum’s collection, which also includes some 11,000 books and scientific manuscripts dating back to the 13th century, focuses on the use of electromagnetism in medicine.

Assistant curator Adrian Fischer (below) compiled this selection of some of the Bakken’s more rare and unusual devices, such as the Garceau Nerve Stimulator (above) that was made sometime between 1940 and 1970. Fischer says the documentation accompanying this device suggests it was used to stimulate the cerebral cortex during brain surgery, for example, to help surgeons pinpoint the source of a patient’s epileptic seizures.

Holly MacCormick is a writing intern in the medical school’s Office of Communication & Public Affairs. She is a graduate student in ecology and evolutionary biology at University of California-Santa Cruz.

Previously: The history of biotech in seven bite-sized chunksA low-cost way to keep premature babies warm and well and Stanford engineers create wireless, self-propelled medical device that swims through blood stream
Photo by BioDivLibrary

Genetics, History, Research, Science, Stanford News

Caribbean genetic diversity explored by Stanford/ University of Miami researchers

Caribbean genetic diversity explored by Stanford/ University of Miami researchers

Virgin IslandsUpcoming holidays likely mean time spent eating and talking with rarely seen relatives – something that could be considered a boon or a trial. One thing I enjoy, however, is the opportunity to learn more about my family history and ancestry through discussions with older family members.

Now, research conducted by Stanford geneticists Carlos Bustamante, PhD, and Andres Moreno-Estrada, MD, PhD, has shown that we carry a surprising amount of similar information in our genes. The strands of DNA include information not just about who our parents, grandparents and great grandparents were, but also about how they mingled with other population groups throughout history. And they did so by studying one of the biggest melting pots of recent past: the Caribbean. The research, conducted in collaboration with  Eden Martin, PhD, from the University of Miami, was published today in PLoS Genetics.

As described in our release:

The researchers compared patterns of genetic variation found in populations in and around the Caribbean, which has had a particularly tumultuous past since Christopher Columbus stumbled into the Bahamas in 1492. Not only did they identify an influx of European genes into the native population that occurred within a generation of Columbus’ arrival, but they also discovered two geographically distinct pulses of African immigration that correspond to the beginning and height of the transatlantic slave trade.

The study demonstrates how deciphering genetic echoes from the distant past can illuminate human history. But it also helps explain why some populations, like Latinos, who may be classified by medical researchers as a single group, display marked differences among populations in susceptibility to diseases or responses to therapeutic drugs.

If you’re into history, the findings are fascinating. For example, the research shows that the Caribbean islands were first populated about 2,500 years ago by people from inland South America, and it indicates that the European component of the Caribbean gene pool was likely contributed by relatively few individuals who settled in the islands (subsequent waves of European immigrants came primarily to the mainland of the Americas). But geneticists and clinicians are also paying close attention to studies such as these. As Moreno-Estrada told me:

All this affects what we call a genetic-mapping strategy to identify disease variants specific to population subgroups. For example, those individuals with more European influence may be at increased risk for certain diseases because that genetic contribution was made by only a few individuals. Or, perhaps Caribbeans with more African ancestry may share an increased risk of diseases with others from West Africa. We’re not yet at the point where we are able to say which populations are most likely to have specific diseases, but now we can begin to figure out the important components.

Previously: On the hunt for ancient DNA, Stanford researchers improve the odds, Stanford study investigates our most recent common ancestors and Recent shared ancestry between Southern Europe and North Africa identified by Stanford researchers
Photo by Navin75

Health Disparities, History, Medicine and Society, Public Health, Rural Health, Stanford News

Broken promises: The state of health care on Native American reservations

Broken promises: The state of health care on Native American reservations

RosebudI traveled to Haiti a month after the 2010 earthquake to report on what was happening there for Stanford Medicine magazine. So when I went to the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota this year with a group of Stanford students, I was incredulous to learn that the average life expectancy in this community was one year lower than Haiti’s – 46 versus 47 - and a full 33 years shorter than the average American.

Statistically speaking, the poor health of Native Americans living the Great Plains of the United States rivals many developing countries. I had no idea. Diabetes, alcoholism, and depression rates are frighteningly high. Suicide rates are 10 times the national average.

My goal in writing my in-depth story, which appears in the current issue of Stanford Medicine and was just recommended as a Longreads pick, was to try to understand how this could possibly be true, and to lend some perspective as to what could be done to change it. What I found was a toxic mix of causative factors: isolation, poverty, poor nutrition, poor education - each of which has its roots in history. What became strikingly clear during my visit to the federally funded Rosebud Indian Health Service Hospital on the reservation was that the United States government has never kept its promises, made in multiple treaties, to provide health care to Native Americans in exchange for land.

From my piece:

One afternoon during a visit to the hospital, I walk from the ER to a separate wing to find the CEO, [Sophie Two Hawk, MD, who also happens to be the first Native American to graduate from the University of South Dakota's medical school]. Her door’s ajar, and she waves me in. She’s dressed in the military-style uniform of the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, her long, gray hair pulled back in a braid that drops down her back. She’s doing paperwork — denying a pile of requests from her physicians for additional care for their patients. The requests are appropriate, she says, but the hospital just doesn’t have the money to pay for the care. “If someone shows up with a torn ACL, we can’t afford to fix it,” she says. “He will walk with a limp.” Two Hawk, like many others, links the poor health statistics of Native Americans not only to the lack of adequate (federal) funding but to the community’s tragic history. The hopelessness, the despair — it’s rooted in history.

The story delves into some of that history, including the forced relocation of Native American children to faraway boarding schools, another particularly ugly chapter in history that I knew nothing about. This forced relocation led to “cultural distortion, physical, emotional and sexual abuse, and the ripple effect of loss of parenting skills and communal grief,” a government study states. Hope on the second poorest county in the country – neighboring Pine Ridge Indian Reservation comes in first place – is a struggle to find. But it’s there, particularly in the strong bonds of the community itself:

Leaving Two Hawk, I head to the office next door where another Native American hospital employee, psychologist Rebecca Foster, PhD, works. When I knock on her office door, she’s taking a break to cradle her week-old grandson. Foster and her husband, Dan, also Native and a psychologist at the hospital, have 14 children — seven of those adopted from relatives on the reservation who were unable to care for them. All seven of those children are special needs, like the baby’s father, who was born with fetal alcohol syndrome… ” I see a lot of kids who are depressed, who talk about suicide,” she says, then pauses to look into the eyes of her grand baby. “And yet, kids are still resilient. They still have a desire to have a good life, to be happy, to accomplish things. No matter where you come from, you can never completely destroy that. There are very few kids here who don’t have a dream. What I tell young people is that there is a difference between having to stay here because you are trapped and choosing to be here because you have something to give. One’s a prison, the other is a home.”

Previously: Finding hope on the Rosebud Indian Reservation, Getting back to the basics: A student’s experience working with the Indian Health Service, Lessons from a reservation: Clinic provides insight on women’s health issues, Lessons from a reservation: South Dakota trip sheds light on a life in rural medicine and Lessons from a  reservation: Visit to emergency department shows patient care challenges
Illustration by Jeffrey Decoster

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