Scientific Ramblings

So I noticed this lymph node in my neck and thought it a good opportunity to look up something about the lymphoid system, which I knew very little about. So I pulled out an anatomy book to look at. It was one of those dry types of books that say a lot without saying much at all, so I still know very little about it, but a little bit less little than the little before. But it reminded me of a good quote from Chesterton (from "Orthodoxy" to be precise):

Scientific phrases are used like scientific wheels and piston-rods to make swifter and smoother yet the path of the comfortable. Long words go rattling by us like long railway trains. We know they are carrying thousands who are too tired or too indolent to walk and think for themselves. It is a good exercise to try for once in a way to express any opinion one holds in words of one syllable. If you say "The social utility of the indeterminate sentence is recognized by all criminologists as a part of our sociological evolution towards a more humane and scientific view of punishment," you can go on talking like that for hours with hardly a movement of the gray matter inside your skull. But if you wish to begin "I wish Jones to go to gaol and Brown to say when Jones shall come out," you will discover, with a thrill of horror, that you are obliged to think. The long words are not the hard words, it is the short words that are hard. There is much more metaphysical subtlety in the word "damn" than in the word "degeneration."

I could hardly limit myself to that and it is already a somewhat lengthy quote. Chesterton was such an intelligent man and I have yet to find a single point upon which we disagree; when someone asks me a question these days, I quite frequently bring in a reference to something he said.

Now I shall return from this digression to return to the matter about which I began, though merely so that I may go upon another digression, which may actually be the main point after all. While looking at little squiggly lines to spread some sort of dim illumination upon the long, scientific words that told much about where all the lymph nodes and suchlike were and what they were capable of, and very little about what my lymphoid system was probably doing at this very moment, I discovered a matter of far more importance:

The human body is 60% fluid by volume. I thought I had heard it was more like 80%. Oh well. I guess we are not so much like watermelon after all...

A plague upon us all

The novelty has worn off now. Many unpleasant things are not so bad at first, but only become so when they remain day after day without relief. No doubt the matter of the most importance is one's state of mind, however.

At first it was easy enough to grin and bear it. Thus I attempted many humorous comments, though I fear they were lost upon all but myself. Furthermore, as long as I have chicken pox I figured I might as well make the most of it, and to that end I decided to debunk several myths concerning it, and also being sick in general:

Myth #1: Watching movies is a good way to entertain oneself while sick.

Truth: While this may for a brief time distract one's senses from his present discomfort, it generally only serves to make him more displeased and irritated with the world.

Myth #2: Laughing is good when one is sick.

Truth: This may be true in some cases, and indeed I hope it is, but in case of headache accompanying chicken pox, this only serves to increase the discomfort.

Myth #3: The face is the last place one gets chicken pox.

Truth: The apparent meaning of this statement is patently false. Perhaps it would be best not to question the honesty of the one who made this statement—especially as I do not remember who it was—but suffice to say it is not true in all cases. Even after appearing upon the face, the spots are quite pleased to keep appearing upon the rest of the body.

Myth #4: Those who are still well laugh at those who have gotten sick, only to find the tables turned upon them when they get sick and have it worse.

Truth: The latter portion would be more effective when separated by periods of days or weeks, and so lies outside my experience, but I would guess it is only a generality. As for the former portion, it is quite as easy—nay, I would say easier—for those who already have it to do the laughing, for there is a strange invincibility in being made vulnerable by illness, an inability to sink any lower. Any laughter sent my way is easily sent to flight. I am already sick, but you do not know when you will succumb: it may be in two days, or it may be in two weeks, but you shall most certainly get it. Not that much laughter was sent my way, but such may just as well be used against those who deny they are getting it.

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One possible effect of itchy chicken pox is a strong desire to jump up and down and scream, which I have on good authority from someone's whose name I will not mention. It makes me feel rather differently, but I will not go into that just now.

There are, however, numerous other small matters that might be of interest in relation to said illness, which only leads me to bewail and lament the fact that I did not have a little video camera to make a movie of the whole proceedings. (Those who have seen 'Mr. Bean's Holiday' may appreciate knowing this thought was in relation to said movie.) Since I have not, a great work of art may have been lost to the world.

Instead I sit here and write rambling thoughts about it, which probably are not even of minute amusement value to any but myself, and I have yet to emit even a half-chuckle. I would most definitely appreciate hearing from each and every one of my readers on this point, if you would be so charitable (it must count as a work of mercy—visiting the sick, you know), for I fear I have more readers than I get credit for. Hallo?

Absolutely splendidly wonderful...

Unfortunately the electronic medium does not allow my words to carry their full weight of sarcasm, but if you imagine the most sarcastic thing you have ever heard and triple it, that should approximate it. Yet again is brought to mind of what use a sarcastic mood would be for an entirely technologically-inclined society, but I digress from my original purpose: chicken pox.

The youngest has it. How long until the rest of us succumb?

Of course I was sort of exposed before, years and years ago, and managed not to get it. It would be nice if I could feel confident in this matter, and laugh because I could not get it, but since I already have a fever, I fear my laughter must be restrained. Only tomorrow—or the next day, or the next, or some other next day—shall tell whether I will indeed get it.

There could not possibly be a convenient time to get chicken pox, but when it is nearly Easter seems particularly inconvenient. I certainly do not relish the thought of the days and weeks ahead as we shall each singly succumb... Unless of course we manage to all get it at the same time. Still the two weeks or whatever that it would be necessary to be quarantined while having the curse would—or I suppose I should say will—be most dreadfully annoying, especially as I am already feeling like a caged beast...

Enough of that, before it turns into a full-fledged rant.

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Looking back over what I have written, I cannot help but ask myself what was the point of it all. Was it merely to have fun with the drama of it all? Was it to release my feelings of annoyance? Or did it have a deeper meaning?

Hmm. I sound like I am playing diplomacy or something...

I think, therefore...

In the almost immortal words of Descartes, it was “I think, therefore I am.” However, he might just as well have said any number of other things equally true, if not equally memorable and meaningful. What he said amounts only to I think I am, therefore I am, which is of course true because by the very act of thinking we have invented the word being and thus what meaning we ascribe to that word is what we sense, whether or not it is in accord with the concept we think we attempt to represent. This of course is a most serious consideration and not of much interest.

What is of far more interest is the fact that Descartes might just as well have said “I think, therefore I eat.” Or indeed he might have said—as someone I know said in effect, though the order of words is mine—“I think, therefore I'm tired.” The point of this was that when people are with friends or having fun, they forget they are tired, but when they are sitting around or not doing much they have the opportunity to think about being tired, and so they find they are.

He might have said any number of things included and not limited to the following:

I think, therefore I breathe.

I think, therefore I weep for all the folly in the world.

I think, therefore I climb a tree.

I think, therefore I write.

I think, therefore I see a purple hippopotomas swimming the backstroke toward my neighbor's house and playing a minuet on his viola.

Now none of this comes even close to being as memorable as what Descartes said, so I guess he knew what he was saying. If he had lived in these days, though, I suspect he would have said something more along the lines of “I think, therefore I guess” or “I think, therefore I doubt.”

It is amazing to think how it really all comes down to that in the end: to the act of thinking. Anything we do—or choose not to do—is the result of thinking. It is this rational thought that sets us apart from the rest of the animal world—not to mention the plant world—and thus why we alone can be so unsatisfied with our lot. If I were any other creature it would be impossible for me to say this:

I think, therefore I'm having a bad day.