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St. Lucy's Day
Dec. 13th, 2018 10:42 pmWe went to a lecture about the Parkinson's research being done by the local mega research institute. They provided a box lunch that wasn't that easy to eat while jammed into student auditorium seats. I saved several people from the faux pas of putting their can of pop into the cup holder. The hole was exactly the right size to let the cup drop neatly through it to the floor. Honestly, I hate being educated about Parkinson's. I already know about the protein clumps and the malfunctioning motor neurons. Please don't force me to visualize it happening again and again. There's just something so depressing about being shown what is wrong without anything one can do to make it right. What I wanted to know is what they're doing to stop this disease. Unfortunately, the answer is the same as always--we got nothin'.
They have a few leads--diabetes meds that could possibly be repurposed to slow down Parkinson's, some distant clinical trials on stem cells. But nothing for right now. The recent exciting discovery is that the sticky protein clumps may start in the appendix--or elsewhere in the gut as well--and something makes them move out of there, up the vagus nerve into the brain. But this is kind of like knowing the Nazis are crossing the Rhein, but without any means of stopping them. Good to know, but not immediately helpful. It was also very depressing to watch attendees arriving and note the characteristic signs of Parkinson's in each: yup, yup, yup--yes, and him too . . . . But the Sparrowhawk wanted to go, so I went with him and took copious notes. I knew I was going to be depressed, so I dressed up a bit. I must say, I did enjoy the presentations because they were so logical and well-organized. I often end up listening to people who are none too bright ramble on at random about things I'm not that interested in. This was a nice contrast. I also enjoyed the view of the Lutheran church where the Sparrowhawk spent his boyhood. They sold part of their property to the Institute, so he was able to point out to me that we were standing on the very spot where he used to play kickball at recess--only three or four stories up! Overall, though, it took a lot out of me and left me with the need to kill something but unable to designate a satisfactory villain.
Later in the afternoon, we went to the garden store and picked out a wreath for the door, a swag to hang over the living room entrance, a bunch of holly, a couple of little poinsettias, and a Christmas tree. I hung up the wreath and the swag, but we'll do the tree tomorrow. I finally got started with my baking. There's a batch of gingerbread cookie dough in the refrigerator. It's really dark and spicy, the way I like it. I replace part of the molasses with a jar of buckwheat honey that had crystallized to perfection. Alas, the saffron-flavored Lucy cats are not rising very fast. It's too cold in here. So we'll be staying up late waiting for the yeast to do its thing. Appropriately, I guess, since this is St. Lucy's Day, once the darkest day of the year.
They have a few leads--diabetes meds that could possibly be repurposed to slow down Parkinson's, some distant clinical trials on stem cells. But nothing for right now. The recent exciting discovery is that the sticky protein clumps may start in the appendix--or elsewhere in the gut as well--and something makes them move out of there, up the vagus nerve into the brain. But this is kind of like knowing the Nazis are crossing the Rhein, but without any means of stopping them. Good to know, but not immediately helpful. It was also very depressing to watch attendees arriving and note the characteristic signs of Parkinson's in each: yup, yup, yup--yes, and him too . . . . But the Sparrowhawk wanted to go, so I went with him and took copious notes. I knew I was going to be depressed, so I dressed up a bit. I must say, I did enjoy the presentations because they were so logical and well-organized. I often end up listening to people who are none too bright ramble on at random about things I'm not that interested in. This was a nice contrast. I also enjoyed the view of the Lutheran church where the Sparrowhawk spent his boyhood. They sold part of their property to the Institute, so he was able to point out to me that we were standing on the very spot where he used to play kickball at recess--only three or four stories up! Overall, though, it took a lot out of me and left me with the need to kill something but unable to designate a satisfactory villain.
Later in the afternoon, we went to the garden store and picked out a wreath for the door, a swag to hang over the living room entrance, a bunch of holly, a couple of little poinsettias, and a Christmas tree. I hung up the wreath and the swag, but we'll do the tree tomorrow. I finally got started with my baking. There's a batch of gingerbread cookie dough in the refrigerator. It's really dark and spicy, the way I like it. I replace part of the molasses with a jar of buckwheat honey that had crystallized to perfection. Alas, the saffron-flavored Lucy cats are not rising very fast. It's too cold in here. So we'll be staying up late waiting for the yeast to do its thing. Appropriately, I guess, since this is St. Lucy's Day, once the darkest day of the year.
