Rx syncronicity

It appears that one of my medications, propranolol (a beta-blocker), is quite popular these days, for wildly different reasons.

Imagine my shock one night, watching The Rachael Maddow Show, to see propranolol implicated as the means by which Ramin Pourandarjani, a 26-year-old Iranian doctor who acted as a whistleblower on Iranian torture, was poisoned. In his salad, no less. (Check the transcript to see how many distinct manners of death were attributed to this doctor by the Iranian government.)

Today, in the library, I read "The Tireless Soldier," an article in a back issue of Adbusters (May/June 2008), wherein Clayton Dach states that the US military may soon use the med to counteract PTSD before it even starts:

Chief among the new horizons is the alluring notion of psychological prophylactics: drugs used to preempt the often nasty effects of combat stress on soldiers, particularly that perennial veteran's bugaboo known as post-traumatic stress disorder syndrome. ( Read more... )

Ongoing psychiatric research has intriguingly suggested that a dose of propranolol, taken soon after a harrowing event, can suppress the victim's stress response and effectively block the physiological process that makes certain memories intense and intrusive. That the drug is cheap and well tolerated is icing on the cake. ( Read more... )

velvet racism

I had an appointment this morning. I hadn't been able to do laundry all week, so I was forced to wear interview clothes, which is not entirely inappropriate. I chose a royal blue velveteen suit that netmouse had given me this fall, accented with a variegated blue bracelet she'd also given me this past winter; after fretting, I decided to put on my knee-high black leather boots. Several people complimented me on how nice I looked this morning, including one of the bus drivers as I waited for my line. The one thing that displeased me was that I couldn't find a pair of earrings in time that would have completed the look.

Appointment over, I headed over to Meijer to grab lunch components as well as items for future projects. ( I considered my outfit, though, as well as my feet. )

My right boot had suffered a loss of part of its heel (its cap?) over a year ago, so I thought I'd stroll through the shoe section. ( The clerk eventually found me and was quite personable. )

I remembered my earring desire, which I decided to indulge precisely because as a rule I don't buy jewelry anymore. (It's an expense I just can't afford on a regular basis.) I saw that several sections of the non-precious metal items were on sale, so that heartened me. I went to the clearance tower and tried to find a match for the bracelet.

( more detailed nondescription )

Around the time I discovered this earring, the clerk for the department came from behind her counter to busy herself at the same kiosk where I stood, only directly opposite me so that the structure stood between us. ( You can probably predict the subsequent disappointing details. )

Does this strike the average American as profiling? Probably not. But something similar has happened to me so many times over the course of my life that I know it when it occurs.

(no subject)

Sweat glands are secret sensory organs: Researchers discover a hidden skin sense in patients who can't feel pain -- Personally, I think this finding is totally cool.

Eight ancient drinks uncorked by science -- a slideshow