Category Archives: O Body where art Thou?
October 28, 2015 by Dr. Geyser
Why do we put thermometers into the mouth/rectum? What does this say about the physical variable we are measuring (it is gross)? Find out in this edition of [O Body, where art Thou?](https://drgeyser.wordpress.com/category/o-body-where-art-thou/), here on [Dr. Geyser’s Health and Wellness Blog](https://drgeyser.wordpress.com/).
The skin is sensitive to differences in temperature, rather than temperature in itself. This is easily demonstrated by turning on a small space heater in a large room, and then comparing its effect on a thermometer versus the change in temperature sensed by the skin. Though I feel the warmth of the space heater forming temperature gradients in the room, the thermometer is unresponsive.
Now someone adopting a medical or scientific perspective is likely to state that the perception of warmth in the absence of an actual change in temperature is a consequence of the placebo effect. These sorts of people (and I am not exactly thinking of scientists and doctors here) may turn out to be right later down the road, but for now let us content ourselves with the knowledge that they are probably just bad at maintaining the flow of conversation. It is just as stupid to rely upon the placebo effect to explain the world as it is to go around saying that reality is just something that happens in your head. It is not that I doubt that the placebo effect exists, or that I am using neurons in my head to state my position vis-a-vis our shared state of optical reality. I am merely put off by people who attempt to interrupt a good conversation, irrespective of whether their methods involve supernatural teleologies or biomolecular determinisms.
Anyway. The space heater is turned on, and it is creating small temperature gradients at various points in the room. Imagine the upward swirl of cigar smoke, or the visible fog of your rancid morning breath on a cold winter morning in Minnesota. Or maybe you are just grabbing a few ventricular cores you acquired from LVAD patients which you obviously stored in a tank of liquid nitrogen because that is the cool thing to do.
Although the temperature of the room remains the same, on the whole, I feel quite a bit warmer now that the heater is on. This is because I am able to feel the temperature at many points across the entire surface of my skin, and thus, on average, I really do feel warmer than I did before. And because I have actually thought about the consequences of having all those temperature sensors beneath my skin, I see no reason to believe that my brain is ‘lying’ about the feeling of warmth which I am now experiencing.
For if I am not willing to attribute original sin to my body (indeed, I am not), I see no reason to attribute original error to my mind. For me, there is only one type of error: a failure to think, to look, to ask after the origins of my thoughts. The only error I can actually take responsibility for is precisely this worthless tendency to blame some part of my body for doing me wrong.
I am my body. We are in floating in the same boat. There is a differentiation of labor. I speak and I write by issuing commands from my frontal, temporal, parietal and occipital lobes. I filter. I edit. I criticize my thoughts to embolden my readers – to speak well, but also to think well.
Where was the error that caused me to feel warmer than I did before? Was there an error?
First, I will point out that I am not a thermometer, nor are the receptors in my skin designed to sense the ‘objective’ temperature in the room itself. As far as anyone else is concerned, the neurons beneath my skin were not designed for any singular purpose or function existing outside of the body itself. When did scientists become the voice of God? But let me explain.
Because my body is lazy and full of sin, it likes to conserve heat rather than giving it off willy-nilly into the environment. As a result, I am overweight. Clearly my body’s fault, end of subject. But this also means that my skin is actually colder than the underlying organs, muscles and bones which it functionally serves to protect and conceal. The consequence of this observation is that the temperature receptors in my skin are not actually concerned with the temperature of the room itself, but rather with the temperature difference between my internal organs and the tissue just beneath the skin itself.
I mean, duh. Come on guys. This is, like, evolution 101 or something.
Second, I am not the idiot who decided that the feeling of warmth should be interpreted ‘objectively,’ i.e. relative to thermostats located ‘in the environment.’ The feeling of warmth need not be objectified as a ‘real’ temperature change for me to understand it. It is not my feelings that are in error, but rather the neuroscientists, head doctors and science writers who believe that the reality they are describing is somewhere in the environment. The irreducible objectivity of their words is, in fact, the source of their error, and the real origin of their knowledge of their belief system.
I, for one, feel my words as I speak them. And it is this feeling alone that makes the process of writing them down so worthwhile. Knowledge is still speech, and so it is safe to say that I am bound to my feelings there, too.
What? Did you think science was all about you? Let us at least be honest with each other. Is it so bad if I — if we — feel it, too?
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October 7, 2015 by Dr. Geyser
That power rising from between your legs Which gradually fills every corner in the space of being As if it …
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October 6, 2015 by Dr. Geyser
At home, this man is tortured by the coldness of his body, his environment, his familiars. He speaks loudly of what he has because he cannot experience the pleasure of self-possession save through the changes it brings about in others. He is an employee that is incapable of feeling loyalty, and so he must constantly declare or deny his past, present and even future affiliations.
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September 29, 2015 by Dr. Geyser
In part 1 of the ongoing series “O Body, where art Thou?”, I began the search for the medical body by aggressively dissecting across the primary layers of the Western tradition, Christianity, morality, censorship, beauty, shame, life, and death. As the knife cuts, so the patient bleeds, and so we must keep a close eye on the patient’s physiology – the anesthesthetists, anesthesiologists, basic numerical indicators, and flashing red lights. The beeping noise is nothing to worry about it – ignore it, and grow wise. Suction may be necessary to clear the local buildup of anatomical sludge acquired in the preceding hack-a-thon that got us inside the door. So long as the patient is still stable – he is – we may procede with the rest of the operation.
The search for the medical body cannot end with a simplistic reduction to the intuitive biological notion of the normal human being. As the admitting physician repeatedly noted in the MR, “Man is sick.” Yet it seems that there is a strong tendency to ignore the biological significance of illness among scientists not directly studying homo- or zoopathology. Similarly, maternity, sexuality, death and dying are seen as short-lived phenomena over the course of evolution. “Survival of the fittest” seems to capture the modern imagination more than any other term, no doubt because the need to survive is no longer an essential aspect of daily life in technologically privileged nations like the United States. We are mesmerized by the concept of having to survive.
Suffice it to say, biologists estimate that 99% of species that have ever existed on earth have gone extinct. More to the point, every organism will eventually die. The fact that most species become extinct is surely a challenge to the notion of extinction itself, since evolutionary change inevitably leads to the extinction of transitional life forms that remain bound up in a reproductive species group. When Nietzsche states that “Man must be overcome,” he is operating upon a concept of evolution that is at least superficially similar to that articulated by his English contemporary, Charles Darwin. Intuitively, this makes sense. Man will not always be man, irrespective of whether we continue to refer to him as such. And, lest we forget, Man was outdated long ago – by Woman.
It was actually Herbert Spencer who coined the phrase, “survival of the fittest.” Darwin merely borrowed it, and with much less gusto. Nietzsche reviled it, as an incomplete explanation of biological change.
In dealing with the normal body, we often begin with the assumption that there is an essential difference between health and disease. Although there are certainly many different conceptualizations of “being in health” – according to Nietzsche, “There are innumerable healths…” – the popular meaning of “health” in the United States is closely related to longevity. There are certainly many other health metrics – Quality of Life (QOL), for instance – but these are not as closely connected to the entitlements associated with longevity in the United States (and elsewhere). The shadow of illness and death casts a much longer shadow than it once did. A few generations ago, a pregnant mother did not need to look long in anguish at death’s shadow. Death was not merely some unfortunate improbability that could be managed, but rather was like an emergency midwife, there to support whatever life is able sustain.
Death is the most effective form of “comfort care” in the history of medicine, though those who remain may resent the pain of an irretrievable loss. In the midst of our profound grief, it is far easier to blame death, “to deny death its victory.” The physiological value of “death” as a concept is that it maintains the rhythm of life across a seemingly impossible material boundary. Blaming death, looking for justice just beyond the material horizon: there is a rhythm that is bound up within the patterned motion of the cosmos, of light, of the beating heart, the pounding feet, the thrusting hips, the blink of sleep, the rhythms of speech, the rise and fall of great men, and the undulating waves of our mindful soul. The prerequisite of eternal life is the acceptance – the passionate embrace – of death, of dying, of pain. The suffering of the body, and the suffering of the soul, are the real source of living power.
Security, comfort, preference, weekends: these heighten the feeling of power, while the source of power is masked. It may be there, right beneath your feet, but there is no way of transforming the feeling of power into knowledge of its source. This is a simple consequence of the methods used to obtain the feeling of power, none of which are capable of identifying the wellspring of life in themselves.
More is necessary, but rarely sufficient, for recreating the feeling of power. Like a drug, the mind exhibits tolerance with respect to material excess, ‘reality,’ and even life itself. When life is no longer enough, what can the living do?
The solution to our material tolerance is close at hand. Yet we have been shamed out of our inheritance by 1,500 years of religious materialism, the origins of which were not merely Christian. As Peter Brown notes in The Cult of the Saints, Christianity was not just some political faction or isolated mystery cult, but rather rose to the fore because it successfully challenged existing notions of health. The close association of early Christians with the bodies of dead saints shows that they actually had a powerful conception of the body. After death, the life of the saint could still be found by means of the relics of the saint’s body. The death of the animated body was not the end of the saint’s bodily power.
To modern ears, this all sounds very spiritual, an admixture of historical narrative and outdated superstitions. The ease with which we have written off the past as something dark, immaterial and vitalistic – “Is history even a science?” – betrays a real source of insecurity. The common practice of invoking Isaac Newton every time we intend to write down one of “his” laws is as much a form of ancestor worship as the Christian cult of the saints was an extension of secular Roman law. Every time a scholar cites a dead philosopher like Nietzsche or Hume, every time a (Darwinian) biologist invokes the spirit of Charles Darwin, every time a justice of the peace decides a case based upon legal precedent, we must raise the cry of supernaturalism, science fiction, and the illegitimacy of every type of dogma, secular or not.
Yet, even here, the power of life is amplified in the midst of suffering. It is futile to attempt to refute what one already knows, and dysfunctional to refute knowledge itself. The only way forward is to bury ourselves in the deepest recesses of knowledge, somewhere beyond hope, and permit ourselves the agonizing climb upwards towards the light we have left behind. For we know – we knowers – the source of that superficial light. Rejecting death’s shadow, we seek that which will endure.
September 19, 2015 by Dr. Geyser