As someone who wants to study the human consciousness I found this very interesting.
Scott Routley was a “vegetable”. A car accident seriously injured both sides of his brain, and for 12 years, he was completely unresponsive.
Unable to speak or track people with his eyes, it seemed that Routley was unaware of his surroundings, and doctors assumed he was lost in limbo. They were wrong.
In 2012, Professor Adrian Owen decided to run tests on comatose patients like Scott Routley. Curious if some “vegetables” were actually conscious, Owen put Routley in an fMRI and told him to imagine walking through his home. Suddenly, the brain scan showed activity. Routley not only heard Owen, he was responding.
Next, the two worked out a code. Owen asked a series of “yes or no” questions, and if the answer was “yes,” Routley thought about walking around his house. If the answer was “no,” Routley thought about playing tennis.
These different actions showed activity different parts of the brain. Owen started off with easy questions like, “Is the sky blue?” However, they changed medical science when Owen asked, “Are you in pain?” and Routley answered, “No.” It was the first time a comatose patient with serious brain damage had let doctors know about his condition.
While Scott Routley is still trapped in his body, he finally has a way to reach out to the people around him. This finding has huge implications.
HOLY STEAMING SHITFUCKS
WHY IS EVERYONE NOT LOSING THEIR SHIT ABOUT THIS
What a fucking nightmare, just kill me.
I know a girl who was hit by a drunk driver and in that state for a year. When she woke up the first thing she did was tell off the doctor who tried to convince her mom to pull the plug. She heard *everything* while being called brain dead.
“You don’t want the opinion of another writer.”
I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS
no seriously this is one of the best things ever
must reblawg every time its on the dash
I’ve been a record/music nerd basically forever. Like a lot of people my age and older, I very clearly remember being a small child and playing around with/in my parents’ record collection, which was housed in the cabinets beneath the one-piece entertainment center that contained the family stereo, TV, and VCR. When my mother got a CD player in the early 1990s when I was about 10 years old, she gave me the old stereo and let me go through the old box of records that she never listened to that she kept in the garage. I picked out some Police, Cream, and Bruce Springsteen records (I still have one of the Police records, I think).
Years later when I started dating, I fell for a girl who thought that all of that stuff was the coolest. She’d look through my records whenever she came over, asking me to play this or that. As we got to know each other better, she’d ask me about my favorites, the stories behind where and how I got them, and similar things. Sometimes I would lie because I was immature and insecure, and afraid that if things went bad between us she’d have all this information she could use to hurt my preciouses. (Pathetic, I know, especially when you consider how women in the modern day sadly have reason to worry about things like “revenge porn” websites being made of intimate pictures they’ve shared with exes, or other truly life-ruining or at least extremely trust-violating behavior.)
My mother had died about 5 or 6 years before this girl and I met each other, and sometimes she would ask me what my mother had been like. I never really knew how to answer (um…she was my mom? She did mom stuff?). When my brother, father, and I had cleaned out the mysterious old trunk that had sat in a neglected corner of the garage after my mother died (mysterious because it had always been locked for as long as I could remember, and my mother had never opened it or told me or my brother what was in it), we found a lot of memorabilia from her old rock bands. Some of them were popular in their day (late 60s-early 70s), at least in the Bay Area, and apparently one of them had even made a record. It was actually an acetate (a special kind of demonstration record made of the day’s recording session for the band members to hear how they sounded; acetates were only made to be played a few times before wearing out), containing three songs on two 8” records. I had it converted to CD years later, once that technology had become cheap enough to do those conversions at home, but for about the first half-decade or so of having it in my possession, it just sat in my room. I was afraid to even play it, because it was already so old and fragile.
So one night, the girlfriend and I were laying around, not doing much in particular. Maybe watching a movie or something. If I recall correctly, she had actually been staying for a few days with her mother (as in, she wanted to stay in my house, but her mother wouldn’t let that happen unless she was there too…hey…the more the merrier, right?), and it was nearing the time when they had to leave to go back home. She lived about 70 miles south of me, and at the time neither of us had a car, so it might well have been a long time before we’d see each other again. She turned to me and said very sadly “I don’t want to leave. Can’t I just stay here? I’m going to miss you too much.” I hugged her, told her I would miss her too, and then sat there for a minute wondering what I could do to help her feel better. Then I had an idea. I got up, went over to the stereo, and took out the acetates of my mother’s band. “You always wanted to meet my mother, right? Well…here. This is what she was like.”
I dropped the needle on the record and out came a quaint, quiet little folk ballad with my mother on lead vocals. We laid there, both listening to it for the first time. As the needle hit the run-out groove, she leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and thanked me for introducing her to my mother.
Robert Sapolsky about his study of the Keekorok baboon troop from National Geographic’s Stress: Portrait of a Killer.
Thiiiiiiis, people, thiiiis!
1. Kill alpha male types
2. Achieve world peace
I’ve actually read a lot of Sapolsky’s work. He’s one of my favorite scientists in the neuro/socio world.
I just watched the documentary and there is so much more about the troop that isn’t in this photoset—not only does the troop have a culture of little aggression and greater cooperation, but any incoming jerk baboons learned within a few months that their shitty behaviour was in no way acceptable, that the troop only rewarded sociability, and they changed accordingly.
If effin’ baboons can learn this there’s pretty much no reason to believe that our only option in dealing with assholes is to just ignore their behaviour and let it continue.
there really is no excuse.
"incoming jerk baboons" hahaha
have you ever known somebody so shitty they completely ruin that first name for you?
So. Many. Names.