After all, the sperm have no mitochondria. Only the egg has mitochondria, so the mitochondria are matrilineal, from the mother only. And it is from mother to daughter to daughter that they are handed down.
I have a photograph of my mother’s mother’s mother. Mary Robbins White. She is looking straight at the camera, no smile, serious. Her thoughts are contained, her eyes give nothing away. I have photographs of my mother’s mother, my mother, me and my daughter, all with the same expression. On guard.
The mitochondria are the powerhouses of the cells as well. They may have been a separate cell that moved in and made a deal with a larger cell: you take care of me and I will power you. An exchange. A bargain. A treaty. Sounds like a sensible female move to me.
My son has my mitochondria. His children, if he has them, will have his wife’s mitochondria. I think he has chosen well. I like her very much. I hope to see grandchildren.
Perhaps mitochondria are the magic that early hominoids worship when they make the earth figurine, the stone figure with generous breasts and belly and hips. The nurturer, the fecund mother, the destroying hungry mother who swallows her children and will not let them go.
I am reading Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live By, 1972. I wonder what he would say about the matrilineal mitochondria, the second set of genetic material in each cell, the part that comes from the mother only. I think he would be fascinated and he would be writing another book.
The problem With Intelligent Design Is those old bones Those dinosaurs
Also that of 10,000 dreams of creation One would be right And the followers of all the others Consigned to hell If so, I go gladly, clutching Dinosaur bones to my chest And will enjoy the diversity Not the narrow heaven with a narrow Small-minded deity
But is evolution right?
Well, I think it’s on the right track
But wholly done and all correct?
After all, think how often Medicine has been wrong Think of tobacco and vioxx Think of Galen, over 2000 years ago Thinking that evil humors built up in the uterus Causing hysteria External pelvic massage was the cure For over 2000 years For old maids, widows and nuns Who had no male to cleave unto Massage was a treatment into the early 1900s And now we wonder about prozac too
Evolution is an evolving science
I think of when my son was four And he watched “Jurassic Park” Against my wishes Because I thought it was too violent He studied it carefully many times
One day he asked me, anxiously, “Mom, is DNA real?” To check that it wasn’t another of those Santa stories I was able to reassure him Yes, I think DNA is real He was pleased
A few days later he announced That when he grows up He wants to be a plant and animal scientist Extract DNA from amber And grow those dinosaurs
A laudable ambition For any four year old
If God left the dinosaur bones Around to fool us And they never lived She has a nasty sense of humor And my son and I will not forgive
Dolly the Dinosaur shows evidence of a respiratory infection: aka a “cold”. And a chronic cold. She died at age 15, about half way through her lifespan. I suspect a little guesswork there. Do old dinosaurs turn grey?
There are dinosaur bone changes in Dolly from chronic infection. The scientist posted photographs on the internet and other bone experts said, that is infection. That is evidence of respiratory infection. “A lot of the times when any disease or trauma is found in a dinosaur skeleton, it’s often in limb bones where you expect it to happen,” Dr Poropat said. “Seeing it where the air sacs penetrate the vertebrae in a sauropod is quite unusual.” Also, she didn’t die of volcanic ash: “Inhalation of volcanic ash can cause a disease similar to mesothelioma.” Who knew? I haven’t kept up on my dinosaur medicine. The pattern of lesions also didn’t fit with lung cancer. Instead, Dr Woodruff and his colleagues think bacterial or fungal infections such as chlamydiosis and aspergillosis are prime suspects. These respiratory infections are common in birds today. “We don’t know for sure if the infection was bad enough to ultimately do Dolly in.”
Dolly, with her long neck, had neck arthritis from a chronic cold. She thought it was allergies.
Coronoviruses are colds. We are have a pandemic of a really really nasty killer cold and a cold that is doing long term damage in way too many people. That seems hugely ironic to me. I thought it would be influenza. After flu nearly killed me in 2003 I read about it and have enormous respect for it. And influenza is endemic and is always circling the world, in the colder regions.
My ideas about allergies and asthma are changing. We define asthma by whether people respond to albuterol. I do not respond to albuterol so I do not have asthma. However, I respond to other adrenaline like molecules: coffee caffeine and terbutaline. So do I have an asthma like illness? My allergy testing in 2014 was resoundingly negative. I tested for celiac in 2020, because I just did not feel well. Negative. I have not retested yet, but even if that antibody testing is negative, it was gluten that flared up diverticulitis in me. The thing is, there could be other antibodies. Loads of them. We all make different ones.
I am thinking about tubulin. Tubulin powers our muscles and cilia and flagella. It is mitochondrial. We inherit mitochondria from the mother only: it is in the egg but not the sperm. Mitochondria is matrolineal. My son and daughter both have my mitochondria. I have a photograph of my maternal grandmother’s mother. Her expression is amazingly like my daughter’s expression when she is thinking. My daughter has my poor spelling skills, my attitude towards work, and her father’s muscular endurance. During college, her father’s goal was five sports a day. In high school my daughter said that she “just didn’t feel good” when the pool was closed. She was used to swimming 3-5 miles a day and lifting weights. Her father can get on a bicycle and ride at the speed of talking all day. He also has pioneered “jog golfing” in his area. When the golf course is empty in the winter, he plays golf and jogs from one hole to the next with his bag. Yes, he is nuts, I agree. I am jealous of that endurance.
The inheritance of antibodies would be from both parents, because they are made by the white blood cells. Do parents and children make the same antibodies or are they entirely different? I do not know that. I took an immunology course when I worked at NIH in the 1980s. I also had some immunology in medical school, but not nearly to the level that I am interested in now. I think I am hunting for a really good immunology course. And maybe more information about dinosaur medicine.
Today is my father’s birthday. He died in 2013. I am missing him this morning. I would like a hug, even if it smelled of unfiltered Camel cigarettes. Hugs to all.
I thought for years that I am NOT capable of organizing a house.
It turns out that I never had time to organize my house. I was a single mother family physician doing rural medicine including obstetrics and frequently on call, and then I opened my own business.
So organizing the house was way down the list of priorities.
I’ve been home now since March 20, 2020. I am starting to really recover from the pneumonia and muscle dysfunction. So now I am organizing once again.
I need a work room, other than the computer room. I set one up upstairs, but in this 1930s house, the upstairs room is too cold. It is great for sleeping but not for a prolonged time working on a project. So I am eyeing my spaces. I could use the front room which is currently the invasion from my clinic. However, I love having the front windows right there when I am on the computer. The cats have a chair there too and keep me company.
I am eyeing rooms in the basement. There is baseboard electric in three rooms. It means moving things around, but that is not difficult. It may take me a little while, but I will get it done.
Over KwanChunChrisSoliday, we discuss bicycles. We now have a plethora of electric bicycles, so we need a phrase that describes the “old” style bicycle. We came up with acoustic or analog. I like acoustic bicycle, because it sings.
My friend B-from-Arlington (BfA): “But they don’t make noise.” He didn’t approve of either idea.
“Well, we had spoke bells, and playing cards. My bikes make noise.” Sometimes it’s me making it.
We are riding on a rails to trails path in Northern Virginia. Seven of us and me on oxygen. It’s only my second bike ride since March 2021, when my lungs fell apart. We are all on acoustic bicycles.
I feel pretty strong for most of it, 14.5 miles. It seems flat, though it is a very gentle downgrade, until the last 0.5 mile, which is gently up hill. Oh, my lungs don’t like that bit at all and by now my muscles are saying Why are we doing this? I am relieved when we get to the coffee shop destination. Three of us will stay there, while the other four will ride back and get the cars. I hang out with K-f-A, BfA’s spouse, and their son. Their son examines my phone, asks why it has four camera eyes. I have no idea, so he proceeds to figure it out. We play with the slow motion camera for a while.
We know what a penny farthing is, and safety bicycles and tricycles. The early safety bicycles did not have brakes and had wooden rims and wooden spokes. My brother outlaw has one, from the 1880 or 90s. Another friend collects penny farthings and has one that is entirely of cast iron. It would be a little bumpy and the seat is pretty hard. It is also massively heavy. So now we add acoustic bicycles to the electric ones.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
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