Health saga

First the deep background, briefly: as a child I suffered occasional mild asthma attacks; these went into almost complete remission during adolescence; in my early twenties the asthma returned in more chronic form, and I also began to be subject to very severe attacks, usually in conjunction with an upper-respiratory infection. Generally the asthma has been admirably controlled by minimal levels of a pair of inhalers, a glucocorticoid and a long-acting bronchodilator, with prednisone for flareups. At some point chronic low-level sinus congestion joined the party. I had a sinus operation 17 or so years ago, but don’t remember much about what difference it made. Later, maybe about 12 years ago, I realized that I had lost my sense of smell. For me, this didn’t involve disorders of taste, so perhaps some messages are getting through to a more primitive part of my brain. A few times in the last few years, when a severe asthma attack has required a heavy course of prednisone, the anosmia has been temporarily reversed, which is quite a trip: it’s like, “Wow! Sunflower seeds! Red wine! There’s a whole world of olfaction out there.”

The sinus congestion has been getting worse, and over the last three years I had taken to self-medicating with a short, tapering course of alternate-day prednisone when it become intolerable. Finally around the beginning of this year I brought this situation to the attention of my HMO, and here begins the saga proper.

I was referred to a head-and-neck surgeon, had a CAT scan, got a diagnosis of nasal polyps, and was referred to a second head-and-neck surgeon at a facility where the CAT scan was of a fancier sort that could be used to guide instruments during a subsequent endoscopic sinus surgery. The protocol at this point was, “Let’s give a strong application of medical treatment (prednisone plus an antibiotic, the latter meant to act as an additional anti-inflammatory agent) and take another scan when that has kicked in.”

The prednisone course in this case was twenty days long: four days each at 40mg, 30mg, 20mg, 10mg, and 5mg. Now I had experienced higher doses than this—80mg and even 100mg—but this was the first time I had started such a course when basically healthy (as opposed to barely able to breathe).

By the fourth day I was in one of the most extraordinary ‘altered states’ I’ve ever experienced: very much like the ‘long, sweet tail’ of an acid trip—about ten hours in, after the really dramatic stuff—a condition of mind saturated with a high degree of clarity, energy, effectiveness, compassion, and gratitude. As under acid, I was not very much inclined to sleep, and seemed to do fine on a few hours a night; as under acid, I tended to drink mostly water and to eat lightly and mindfully. I felt about 25 years old, less than half my real age. The flurry of posting in early February was triggered by this phase.

Gradually, life got back to normal. I suffered through the symptoms long enough for them to take a biopsy of nasal turbinate tissue, then went back on alternate-day prednisone.

The biopsy result provided the final bit of evidence to justify an official diagnosis of EGPA, also known as Churg-Strauss syndrome. So far my “Five Factor Score” (FFS) is zero, meaning that none of the scarier organ-involving manifestations have shown up yet. The baseline treatment for this condition is … prednisone. For a while I had gotten the alternate-day dose down to 12.5mg, but eventually things got bad again, and I am now at 20mg. Long-term prednisone carries the risk of various nasty side effects, but life without it is really not worth living. My rheumatologists seem to want to start me on Imuran, but I am resisting for the moment: the papers I can access suggest that the other immunosuppressives (beyond prednisone) are to be resorted to when the FFS is nonzero, or if the prednisone maintenance dose is too high. Also, there is something of a “better the devil you know (i.e. prednisone)” feeling.

 

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A sad story

Some time ago I was stuck in the right lane of northbound stop-and-go 6pm-ish traffic on the Bridgeway in Sausalito. I was driving my electric car at the roughly average speed of the traffic flow, sometimes letting a space open up ahead of me, since it was clear that that space would be taken up again well before the traffic ahead was able to move.

There was a driver behind me for whom this unassertive driving seemed to come as a personal affront. You know the signs. His vehicle (of course it was a he) was some sort of Hummer-lite macho thing. After being a prisoner of my sissy driving as long as he could stand, he took advantage of a slight widening of the shoulder (covered with zebra-striping, I believe) to gun his engine and pass me on the right.

So far, nothing too out of the way. But when he caught up with the traffic ahead, he got out of his car and came and stood behind it, staring at me as I approached and stopped, as if to say, “So, faggot, do you want a piece of me?”

Did I wish to engage this man in argument, or in fisticuffs? Uh, no. I glanced at him, trying to convey “Are you for real?”, then directed my gaze elsewhere; and eventually, when he felt that masculinitiy had been satisfied, he returned to the driving seat and, not soon enough, passed out of my life.

The point, though, is this. What is happening to our so-called eusocial species? Since we are animals with culture, we cannot say to what extent this sort of bone-headed selfishness is down to genes. But supposing there to be a genetic component, it appears that these genes are not being selected against as strongly as the rest of us would wish.

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Antonin Scalia, 1936–2016

Notwithstanding the tradition of De mortuis nil nisi bonum, we feel that the truth is too important to gloss over. So make no mistake about it: Antonin Scalia was anything but a great jurist. On the contrary, he was a crackpot, with an obviously bad idea of what the remit of our final arbiters of law (short of achieving 2/3 of both Houses and 3/4 of state legislatures) should be. His loyalty to an arch-conservative version of Roman Catholic doctrine was such that by rights he should have recused himself from Obergefell. (Fortunately, his views did not prevail in that case.)

For more details, see 10 of the Most Harmful and Dangerous Opinions of Antonin Scalia’s Career — with Quotes. They quote his dissent in Obergefell: “It is of overwhelming importance, however, who it is that rules me. Today’s decree says that my Ruler, and the Ruler of 320 million Americans coast-to-coast, is a majority of the nine lawyers on the Supreme Court.” Which, of course, was exactly the problem with Bush v. Gore.

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Bernie vs. Hillary

As the 2016 election was approaching in the distance, it was natural for Democrats, even progressive Democrats, to summon up enthusiasm for Hillary Clinton. But with Bernie Sanders having demonstrated beyond question that he is a viable candidate,  everyone with a brain and a heart should be getting behind him, at least in this commentator’s opinion.

In the current state of the United States and the planet, in the ecological and the economic and social justice spheres, if you don’t see the need for something approaching a revolution, you’re not looking hard enough. Only one of these candidates is at all prepared to lead that revolution. This blog strongly endorses Bernie Sanders for President.

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Channeling Pythagoras at the Lap Pool

Essentially all of my organized exercise comes from lap-swimming. I like to keep track of how many laps I have swum at one go, and to make it more interesting I have taken to focusing on a particular canonical way of referencing each positive integer, based on multiplicative generation.

‘One’, of course, is unique: the identity element for the multiplicative group over the positive integers. Prime numbers I visualize by way of an assertion of the form “Prime number 1 is 2”. (In principle, at least—when the numbers get large this tends to turn into sort of a phone number: 511, 613, 717, 819, 923 and so on. Eventually these start to sound like numbers of years, especially 1861 and 1967.)

Composite numbers which are powers are canonicalized to “3 cubed”, “2 to the 5th power” and the like, always using the smallest possible base. Other composite numbers just get realized as “i times j”, where i is less than j and both are maximally close to the square root of their product (so “8 times 9” trumps “6 times 12”).

There are various patterns to be encountered in this counting sequence, such as the “four 13s” (3 times 13, 5 times 8 (the factors sum to 13), prime #13 is 41, 6 times 7 (the factors sum to 13)). I learned the term ‘semiprime’ for a number which is the product of two primes: the rare occurrences of three semiprimes in a row are notable (33, 34, 35; 85, 86, 87; 93, 94, 95; the next one is more laps than I ever swim).

I imagine Pythagoras and his crowd as tremendously impressed with the magic and complexity of the multiplicative group. What if we couldn’t just summon up integers for use by means of positional notation but had to construct them multiplicatively, visiting a notional numerical supermarket that only stocks primes?

I would suppose that a defender of classical theism like Ed Feser would have to say that the primeness of all primes, no matter how large, is continuously and simultaneously ‘known’ to God; to my mind this kind of ‘knowledge’ has nothing to do with knowledge as accessible to the human intellect.

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Ed Feser and the ‘Form of Squirrel’

A comment by Keith Parsons in the followup thread to his post titled Belated Response to Ed Feser provides a good springboard for me to address myself to Ed Feser and his book The Last Superstition, now about 3.5 years old. I will do this over a series of posts; there is a lot to be said.

Feser writes (TLS, p. 36): “the Forms, as archetypes or perfect patterns, are the standards by reference to which particular things in the world of our experience count as being the kinds of things they are. A triangle is a triangle only because it participates in the Form of Triangularity; a squirrel is a squirrel only because it participates in the Form of Squirrel; and so forth.” This passage is elucidating the thought of Plato, but it seems clear that Feser (though an Aristotelian/Thomist) basically agrees.

Anyway, Parsons nails it:

Where the notion of form might be interesting but false is in postulating a form for organic species. However, such a notion is most definitely undermined by Darwinism. Where now is the form “Tyrannosaurus?” If speaking of the form “Tyrannosaurus” is only a way of referring to the temporary anatomical arrangement of a kind of theropod dinosaur that flourished at the end of the Cretaceous, then, again, such terminology does refer to something real, but is only a portentous-sounding way of stating the obvious.

If, on the other hand,“Tyrannosaurus” is supposed to designate something that exists diachronically as a permanent essence that in some mysterious way shapes or guides organic processes (and this is the only way such a concept could be interesting), then such a thing definitely does not exist, so far as biological science can tell. Organic “form” resides in the genome, which we know to be plastic, and we know why and how it changes over time. Considered over geological time, there are no species. Looked at over hundreds of millions of year, one “form” flows into another or goes extinct. Those are the only two possibilities. To account for this process, “substantial form” does not need to enter anywhere.

If Feser wants to defend the notion that it is useful or even meaningful to talk of the “Form of species s” as distinct from or metaphysically prior to “the population of species s living in region r at time t”, he has a lot of work to do.

 

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Welcome back, Eric MacDonald

It was sad when Eric MacDonald suspended blogging at Choice in Dying and sadder still that he removed all his old posts (an action contrary to the spirit of the Internet, in my opinion). He is a fine and enviably fluent writer.

Anyway, I just noticed that there have been a few posts over the last year, some of them being reposts of old material, a few comments on the notorious Margaret Somerville, and in February and March two long posts concerning Peter Boghossian’s A Manual for Creating Atheists, followed by a reposted dialogue that took place in Jerry Coyne’s comment box, which Eric titles In which I take my leave from the new atheism.

There’s a lot to read in the two-part Boghossian review and the leave-taking thread (and they are evidently related, in that the process of confronting Boghossian’s book seems to have crystallized Eric’s sense of his differences with the New Atheists), so what follows are only a few remarks springing from what I gather to be the direction of Eric’s thought.

Eric appeals for more understanding by atheists of the fact that there are plenty of liberal or ‘radical’ Christians for whom their religious inheritance has become a device for structuring their lives, devoid of any literal belief in the supernatural. This greater understanding would certainly be a good thing.

Having spent many years as a chorister in liberal Christian churches, I have my own measure of sympathy for this strain of ‘belief’. Clearly many people involved with it are sane and compassionate; it’s hard for me to judge what the actual content of their belief system is, since one doesn’t go around administering questionnaires to one’s fellow parishioners. As a former priest, Eric must know much more about the range of beliefs to be found in the pews.

But while doubtless many liberal Christians are actually ‘radical’ in belief, their denominations are less so. Of the demoninations of any size, only Unitarian Universalism has really gone significantly post-Christian.

And Eric knows, and says forthrightly, that fundamentalist Christianity is dangerous, that Roman Catholicism is dangerous, and that Islam is exceptionally dangerous (although of course there must be hundreds of millions of Muslims who hold their ‘beliefs’ as lightly as liberal Christians).

So, like life in general, the situation is complicated, free of easy answers.

 

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