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Leviathan

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Όλες οι δημοσιεύσεις από Leviathan

  1. Δεν είναι γελοιογραφία, αλλά θα μπορούσε... 1) Υπουργός Παιδείας Γαλλίας : 2) Υπουργός Παιδείας Σουηδίας : 3) Υπουργός Παιδείας Ελλάδας : Δεν υπάρχει σωτηρία γι' αυτή τη χώρα, τέλος.-
  2. Νταξ, για να μη νομίζουμε πως μόνο οι ελληναράδες έχουν παράπονα από τα ΤΕΠ...
  3. How Doctors Take Women's Pain Less Seriously When my wife was struck by mysterious, debilitating symptoms, our trip to the ER revealed the sexism inherent in emergency treatment. Joe Fassler Oct 15, 2015, theatlantic.com Early on a Wednesday morning, I heard an anguished cry—then silence. I rushed into the bedroom and watched my wife, Rachel, stumble from the bathroom, doubled over, hugging herself in pain. “Something’s wrong,” she gasped. This scared me. Rachel’s not the type to sound the alarm over every pinch or twinge. She cut her finger badly once, when we lived in Iowa City, and joked all the way to Mercy Hospital as the rag wrapped around the wound reddened with her blood. Once, hobbled by a training injury in the days before a marathon, she limped across the finish line anyway. So when I saw Rachel collapse on our bed, her hands grasping and ungrasping like an infant’s, I called the ambulance. I gave the dispatcher our address, then helped my wife to the bathroom to vomit. I don’t know how long it took for the ambulance to reach us that Wednesday morning. Pain and panic have a way of distorting time, ballooning it, then compressing it again. But when we heard the sirens wailing somewhere far away, my whole body flooded with relief. I didn’t know our wait was just beginning. I buzzed the EMTs into our apartment. We answered their questions: When did the pain start? That morning. Where was it on a scale of one to 10, with 10 being worst? “Eleven,” Rachel croaked. As we loaded into the ambulance, here’s what we didn’t know: Rachel had an ovarian cyst, a fairly common thing. But it had grown, undetected, until it was so large that it finally weighed her ovary down, twisting the fallopian tube like you’d wring out a sponge. This is called ovarian torsion, and it creates the kind of organ-failure pain few people experience and live to tell about. “Ovarian torsion represents a true surgical emergency,” says an article in the medical journal Case Reports in Emergency Medicine. “High clinical suspicion is important. … Ramifications include ovarian loss, intra-abdominal infection, sepsis, and even death.” The best chance of salvaging a torsed ovary is surgery within eight hours of when the pain starts. There is nothing like witnessing a loved one in deadly agony. Your muscles swell with the blood they need to fight or run. I felt like I could bend iron, tear nylon, through the 10-minute ambulance ride and as we entered the windowless basement hallways of the hospital. And there we stopped. The intake line was long—a row of cots stretched down the darkened hall. Someone wheeled a gurney out for Rachel. Shaking, she got herself between the sheets, lay down, and officially became a patient. Emergency-room patients are supposed to be immediately assessed and treated according to the urgency of their condition. Most hospitals use the Emergency Severity Index, a five-level system that categorizes patients on a scale from “resuscitate” (treat immediately) to “non-urgent” (treat within two to 24 hours). I knew which end of the spectrum we were on. Rachel was nearly crucified with pain, her arms gripping the metal rails blanched-knuckle tight. I flagged down the first nurse I could. “My wife,” I said. “I’ve never seen her like this. Something’s wrong, you have to see her.” “She’ll have to wait her turn,” she said. Other nurses’ reactions ranged from dismissive to condescending. “You’re just feeling a little pain, honey,” one of them told Rachel, all but patting her head. We didn’t know her ovary was dying, calling out in the starkest language the body has. I saw only the way Rachel’s whole face twisted with the pain. Soon, I started to realize—in a kind of panic—that there was no system of triage in effect. The other patients in the line slept peacefully, or stared up at the ceiling, bored, or chatted with their loved ones. It seemed that arrival order, not symptom severity, would determine when we’d be seen. As we neared the ward’s open door, a nurse came to take Rachel’s blood pressure. By then, Rachel was writhing so uncontrollably that the nurse couldn’t get her reading. She sighed and put down her squeezebox. “You’ll have to sit still, or we’ll just have to start over,” she said. Finally, we pulled her bed inside. They strapped a plastic bracelet, like half a handcuff, around Rachel’s wrist. From an early age we’re taught to observe basic social codes: Be polite. Ask nicely. Wait your turn. But during an emergency, established codes evaporate—this is why ambulances can run red lights and drive on the wrong side of the road. I found myself pleading, uselessly, for that kind of special treatment. I kept having the strange impulse to take out my phone and call 911, as if that might transport us back to an urgent, responsive world where emergencies exist. The average emergency-room patient in the U.S. waits 28 minutes before seeing a doctor. I later learned that at Brooklyn Hospital Center, where we were, the average wait was nearly three times as long, an hour and 49 minutes. Our wait would be much, much longer. Everyone we encountered worked to assure me this was not an emergency. “Stones,” one of the nurses had pronounced. That made sense. I could believe that. I knew that kidney stones caused agony but never death. She’d be fine, I convinced myself, if I could only get her something for the pain. By 10 a.m., Rachel’s cot had moved into the “red zone” of the E.R., a square room with maybe 30 beds pushed up against three walls. She hardly noticed when the attending physician came and visited her bed; I almost missed him, too. He never touched her body. He asked a few quick questions, and then left. His visit was so brief it didn’t register that he was the person overseeing Rachel’s care. Around 10:45, someone came with an inverted vial and began to strap a tourniquet around Rachel’s trembling arm. We didn’t know it, but the doctor had prescribed the standard pain-management treatment for patients with kidney stones: hydromorphone for the pain, followed by a CT scan. The pain medicine started seeping in. Rachel fell into a kind of shadow consciousness, awake but silent, her mouth frozen in an awful, anguished scowl. But for the first time that morning, she rested. Leslie Jamison’s essay “Grand Unified Theory of Female Pain” examines ways that different forms of female suffering are minimized, mocked, coaxed into silence. In an interview included in her book The Empathy Exams, she discussed the piece, saying: “Months after I wrote that essay, one of my best friends had an experience where she was in a serious amount of pain that wasn’t taken seriously at the ER.” She was talking about Rachel. “That to me felt like this deeply personal and deeply upsetting embodiment of what was at stake,” she said. “Not just on the side of the medical establishment—where female pain might be perceived as constructed or exaggerated—but on the side of the woman herself: My friend has been reckoning in a sustained way about her own fears about coming across as melodramatic.” “Female pain might be perceived as constructed or exaggerated”: We saw this from the moment we entered the hospital, as the staff downplayed Rachel’s pain, even plain ignored it. In her essay, Jamison refers back to “The Girl Who Cried Pain,” a study identifying ways gender bias tends to play out in clinical pain management. Women are “more likely to be treated less aggressively in their initial encounters with the health-care system until they ‘prove that they are as sick as male patients,’” the study concludes—a phenomenon referred to in the medical community as “Yentl Syndrome.” In the hospital, a lab tech made small talk, asked me how I like living in Brooklyn, while my wife struggled to hold still enough for the CT scan to take a clear shot of her abdomen. “Lot of patients to get to, honey,” we heard, again and again, when we begged for stronger painkillers. “Don’t cry.” I felt certain of this: The diagnosis of kidney stones—repeated by the nurses and confirmed by the attending physician’s prescribed course of treatment—was a denial of the specifically female nature of Rachel’s pain. A more careful examiner would have seen the need for gynecological evaluation; later, doctors told us that Rachel’s swollen ovary was likely palpable through the surface of her skin. But this particular ER, like many in the United States, had no attending OB-GYN. And every nurse’s shrug seemed to say, “Women cry—what can you do?” Nationwide, men wait an average of 49 minutes before receiving an analgesic for acute abdominal pain. Women wait an average of 65 minutes for the same thing. Rachel waited somewhere between 90 minutes and two hours. “My friend has been reckoning in a sustained way about her own fears about coming across as melodramatic.” Rachel does struggle with this, even now. How long is it appropriate to continue to process a traumatic event through language, through repeated retellings? Friends have heard the story, and still she finds herself searching for language to tell it again, again, as if the experience is a vast terrain that can never be fully circumscribed by words. Still, in the throes of debilitating pain, she tried to bite her lip, wait her turn, be good for the doctors. For hours, nothing happened. Around 3 o’clock, we got the CT scan and came back to the ER. Otherwise, Rachel lay there, half-asleep, suffering and silent. Later, she’d tell me that the hydromorphone didn’t really stop the pain—just numbed it slightly. Mostly, it made her feel sedated, too tired to fight. Eventually, the doctor—the man who’d come to Rachel’s bedside briefly, and just once—packed his briefcase and left. He’d been around the ER all day, mostly staring into a computer. We only found out later he’d been the one with the power to rescue or forget us. When a younger woman came on duty to take his place, I flagged her down. I told her we were waiting on the results of a CT scan, and I hassled her until she agreed to see if the results had come in. When she pulled up Rachel’s file, her eyes widened. “What is this mess?” she said. Her pupils flicked as she scanned the page, the screen reflected in her eyes. “Oh my god,” she murmured, as though I wasn’t standing there to hear. “He never did an exam.” The male doctor had prescribed the standard treatment for kidney stones—Dilauded for the pain, a CT scan to confirm the presence of the stones. In all the hours Rachel spent under his care, he’d never checked back after his initial visit. He was that sure. As far as he was concerned, his job was done. If Rachel had been alone, with no one to agitate for her care, there’s no telling how long she might have waited. It was almost another hour before we got the CT results. But when they came, they changed everything. “She has a large mass in her abdomen,” the female doctor said. “We don’t know what it is.” That’s when we lost it. Not just because our minds filled then with words like tumor and cancer and malignant. Not just because Rachel had gone half crazy with the waiting and the pain. It was because we’d asked to wait our turn all through the day—longer than a standard office shift—only to find out we’d been an emergency all along. Suddenly, the world responded with the urgency we wanted. I helped a nurse push Rachel’s cot down a long hallway, and I ran beside her in a mad dash to make the ultrasound lab before it closed. It seemed impossible, but we were told that if we didn’t catch the tech before he left, Rachel’s care would have to be delayed until morning. “Whatever happens,” Rachel told me while the tech prepared the machine, “don’t let me stay here through the night. I won’t make it. I don’t care what they tell you—I know I won’t.” Soon, the tech was peering inside Rachel through a gray screen. I couldn’t see what he saw, so I watched his face. His features rearranged into a disbelieving grimace. By then, Rachel and I were grasping at straws. We thought: cancer. We thought: hysterectomy. Lying there in the dim light, Rachel almost seemed relieved. “I can live without my uterus,” she said, with a soft, weak smile. “They can take it out, and I’ll get by.” She’d make the tradeoff gladly, if it meant the pain would stop. After the ultrasound, we led the gurney—slowly, this time—down the long hall to the ER, which by then was completely crammed with beds. Trying to find a spot for Rachel’s cot was like navigating rush-hour traffic. Then came more bad news. At 8 p.m., they had to clear the floor for rounds. Anyone who was not a nurse, or lying in a bed, had to leave the premises until visiting hours began again at 9. When they let me back in an hour later, I found Rachel alone in a side room of the ER. So much had happened. Another doctor had told her the mass was her ovary, she said. She had something called ovarian torsion—the fallopian-tube twists, cutting off blood. There was no saving it. They’d have to take it out. Rachel seemed confident and ready. “He’s a good doctor,” she said. “He couldn’t believe that they left me here all day. He knows how much it hurts.” When I met the surgery team, I saw Rachel was right. Talking with them, the words we’d used all day—excruciating, emergency, eleven—registered with real and urgent meaning. They wanted to help. By 10:30, everything was ready. Rachel and I said goodbye outside the surgery room, 14 and a half hours from when her pain had started. Rachel’s physical scars are healing, and she can go on the long runs she loves, but she’s still grappling with the psychic toll—what she calls “the trauma of not being seen.” She has nightmares, some nights. I wake her up when her limbs start twitching. Sometimes we inspect the scars on her body together, looking at the way the pink, raised skin starts blending into ordinary flesh. Maybe one day, they’ll become invisible. Maybe they never will. ΠΗΓΗ : theatlantic.com
  4. This junior doctor has summed up the NHS crisis in a catchy but depressing song Nicole Morley for Metro.co.uk Saturday 3 Oct 2015 12:35 pm Thousands of people attended a rally to protest the Tory Government’s proposed plans which are likely to reduce junior doctors’ working conditions. The British Medical Association’s junior doctor committee have warned that the contract changes – which will change the definition of unsociable hours – will put patients’ lives at risk by stretching overworked NHS staff. The #juniorcontracts rally was held outside Westminister earlier this week, but this one guy armed with a guitar has summed up the crisis to the tune of Jessie J’s Price Tag. Dressed in his scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, the unnamed doctor’s altered lyrics highlight the plight faced by the UK’s health service. He sings: ‘We hope you all agree it’s getting serious, when doctors are so tired they’re delirious, so if you want care then stop this travesty. ‘Everybody look to the left, because you won’t get much help from the right.’ Adding: ‘You can’t save a life if you’ve been up all night. ‘It’s not about the money, money money but we don’t think it’s funny, funny, funny, jeopardising patients’ welfare.’ Namechecking the Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt, he goes on: ‘Jezza wants to close the door on the vulnerable and the poor, so if you want to fight back then help us save our contracts.’ The planned amendments to junior doctor contracts will redefine what is meant by sociable hours (currently 7am-7pm Monday to Friday). The new contracts would see doctors working until 10pm and on Saturdays for standard pay, therefore reducing the amount doctors earn for working shifts which cover weekday nights and weekends. There’s a concern that many junior doctors might have to up their hours to prevent a drop in pay. Jeremy Hunt claimed the BMA had misrepresented the Government’s position and that it wasn’t his intention that any medics should lose out financially. Many medical professionals have hit back with social media demonstrations such as #ImInWorkJeremy, another protest is scheduled for October 17th and industrial action is being considered. If it goes ahead, it will be the first doctors’ strike in 40 years. A petition has been launched to oppose the amendments to junior doctors’ contracts. ΠΗΓΗ : http://metro.co.uk
  5. Καλορίζικο! Αρχίζω τη μουρμούρα : α) Δε μου αρέσουν τα στρογγυλά avatars... β) Δε μου αρέσει το total white background...σε στραβώνει! γ) Που πήγαν οι υπογραφές; δ) Κάθε λίγο μου πετάει το μήνυμα "Please wait 13 seconds before attempting another search Error code: 1C205/3"... ε) Το "New Content" δε φαίνεται όταν είσαι sign out, αλλά και όταν είσαι sign in δε λειτουργεί... στ) Θα επανέλθω ! ΥΓ) Κάτι να γίνει με το μέγεθος των κλιπς από το youtube, είναι τεράστια!
  6. Leviathan

    Let's sing!

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQU9AY_khw
  7. Scale-free urination and speed bump diagnostics take home Ig Nobels The weirder side of science is once again on display in the annual awards ceremony. by John Timmer - Sep 18, 2015 8:42pm EEST, arstechnica.com Every fall, the Swedish Academy of Sciences determines which researchers have produced work worthy of a Nobel Prize. Usually, my first warning that this time of the year is approaching is the announcement of the Ig Nobel Prizes, handed out in Boston "for achievements that first make people laugh, then make them think." The Nobels must be coming soon, as the Igs were handed out last night in a traditionally lavish and mildly deranged ceremony. As is typical, almost all of the winning research teams had a representative present. One of the two exceptions sent a video acceptance; the only group that did not acknowledge its win was the Bangkok Metropolitan Police Force. We'll go through the awards below, starting with the ones that are also awarded science Nobels, and then moving into some of the more flexible categories before wrapping up with Economics and Literature. Physics: The fluid mechanics of urination. The team that won this award was interested in what they call "a universal phenomenon that has received little attention"—the physics of urination. To get a sense of how urination operates on different scales, the researchers hauled a video camera to Zoo Atlanta and filmed animals relieving themselves. "Our findings reveal that the urethra is a flow-enhancing device," they concluded, "enabling the urinary system to be scaled up by a factor of 3,600 in volume without compromising its function." Chemistry: Unboiling an egg. An international team was cited here for its work on protein aggregates. These aggregates cause problems when you're making proteins in bacteria, since the desired product ends up in a tangled mess. So the authors worked out a technique to untangle it. But to test their technique, they turned to a different source of tangled proteins: boiled eggs. Medicine: A (good) allergic reaction to sex. Japan's Hajime Kimata managed to get a lot of papers out of what may have been a single experiment. He studies allergies, and he wrote two papers on how they're affected by kissing and a third on what happens when that kissing leads to sex. The news is good: all of these lead to less severe allergic reactions. This was a dual award, with a Slovakian team sharing the prize for showing that male DNA is transferred to females during intense kissing. A number of additional awards went out to life scientists, as the Ig Nobels have never been known to stick to the disciplines that the posers in Stockholm get hung up on. Diagnostic medicine: Appendicitis vs. speed bumps. The diagnostic tool is in the parking lot, but it took an Oxford University biostatistician to show it. He and several of his colleagues are getting the award for showing that you can diagnose appendicitis by driving people over speed bumps and then seeing how much it hurts. The technique is as good as several things normally used during diagnosis, and it can actually be done over the phone before someone shows up at the hospital. Physiology and Entomology: That stings! The Swedes group physiology and medicine, but here they're lumped in with insects. The category also has two recipients. One of them is a bit of a lifetime achievement award, handed out to Justin Schmidt for creating the Schmidt Sting Pain Index for quantifying just how badly something is going to hurt. (He actually did this in part by quantifying just how many blood cells the venom can kill.) Michael L. Smith was also awarded for extending this work by allowing honey bees to sting him on various body parts to determine where the pain is most severe. And yes, the penis rated pretty highly. Biology: Walk like a dinosaur. Birds may have evolved from flightless dinosaurs, but their skeletons have been reworked over time in a way that leaves them quite distinct. It's hard to infer too much of dinosaur locomotion by watching a bird, so a bunch of Chilean scientists decided to do the next best thing: attach a weight to a chicken and see how it walked. The weight was meant to simulate having a large tail, and it shifted the birds' center of mass, causing them to reorient their posture into something more reminiscent of earlier dinosaurs. Mathematics: He didn't just thirst for blood. We'll get to the math in a second. An Emperor of Morocco named Moulay Ismael the Bloodthirsty was reported to have had 888 offspring. While many people find that number a bit ludicrous, there's actually no way of going back and figuring out whether it was realistic. So a couple of anthropologists decided to see if it was mathematically plausible. They built several models, including a random mating pool and harem-stile mating, and determined that yes, 888 is quite reasonable. In fact, "the harem size needed is far smaller than the reported numbers." Management: It's a (natural) disaster. Lots of studies suggest that high-level corporate management types have psychopathic tendencies. This award goes to an international team showing that childhood trauma also influences their management style. Among CEOs who experienced natural disasters as children, the researchers found that those who came through without serious consequences tend to run companies that are risk-friendly and aggressive. People who suffered during these disasters tended to play more conservatively. Economics: Perverse incentives. This one goes out to whoever is managing the traffic police in Thailand. They're now giving out cash bonuses to any law enforcement employees who turn down bribes. The Reuters report indicates that the value of the bonuses are roughly 100 times that of the bribe being offered, which raises questions about the sustainability of it all. Literature: Universal confusion. What is your first response when you haven't understood what someone just said? Chances are good that "huh?" is high on your list if you speak English. But some Dutch linguists have discovered that it's high on your list no matter what language you speak. This suggests that it might be a language universal. To support this contention, the authors showed that, unlike a grunt, "huh" actually has to be learned, as do the contexts in which it makes sense to use it. ΠΗΓΗ : arstechnica.com
  8. Leviathan

    Αφιερώσεις

    Για να μην ξεχνιόμαστε... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmV1fL7yl_c https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6y0sK2vzd0
  9. Leviathan

    Πρόβλημα με το forum

    Το πρόβλημα διορθώθηκε.
  10. Leviathan

    Πρόβλημα με το forum

    Ra's al Ghul, στο τόπικ για την αναβάθμιση, δεν μπορώ να ψηφίσω. Μου βγάζει μήνυμα "Sorry, you don't have permission for that!"
  11. Έβαλα άλλη μία διπλή ερώτηση. Όσοι από αυτούς που έχουν ήδη ψηφίσει, θέλουν να απαντήσουν και σε αυτή, πρέπει πρώτα να κάνουν "Delete My Vote" και μετά να (ξανα)ψηφίσουν...
  12. Leviathan

    Street & anonymous Artists

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5yx7gHva3M ...και ένα πιο επαγγελματικό ! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lAKlYTQVKY Πριν λίγα χρόνια ήταν ένα νέο ζευγάρι χορευτών στη Γλυφάδα, με λάτιν ρεπερτόριο...
  13. Why Depression Needs A New Definition Many psychiatrists believe that a new approach to diagnosing and treating depression—linking individual symptoms to their underlying mechanisms—is needed for research to move forward. Jenny Chen Aug 4, 2015 theatlantic.com In his Aphorisms, Hippocrates defined melancholia, an early understanding of depression, as a state of “fears and despondencies, if they last a long time.” It was caused, he believed, by an excess of bile in the body (the word “melancholia” is ancient Greek for “black bile”). Ever since then, doctors have struggled to create a more precise and accurate definition of the illness that still isn’t well understood. In the 1920s, the German psychiatrist Kurt Schneider argued that depression could be divided into two separate conditions, each requiring a different form of treatment: depression that resulted from changes in mood, which he called “endogenous depression,” and depression resulting from reactions to outside events, or “reactive depression.” His theory was challenged in 1926, when the British psychologist Edward Mapother argued in the British Medical Journal that there was no evidence for two distinct types of depression, and that the apparent differences between depression patients were just differences in the severity of the condition. Today, Schneider’s subtypes have largely fallen out of favor—but over the years, many more definitions were offered in their place. In 1969, the American existential psychologist Rollo May wrote in his book Love and Will that “depression is the inability to construct a future,” while the cognitive psychologist Albert Ellis argued in 1987 that depression, unlike “appropriate sadness,” stemmed from “irrational beliefs”—“absolutistic, dogmatic shoulds, oughts, and musts,” he wrote—that left sufferers ill-equipped to deal with even mild setbacks. In 1952, the American Psychiatric Association tried to standardize the definitions of mental illnesses, including depression, by creating a taxonomy of mental illnesses. In the first edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, depression was listed under the broad category of “disorders without clearly defined physical cause,” which also included schizophrenia, paranoia, and mania. The DSM-III, published in 1980, was the APA’s first attempt to clarify the definitions of specific disorders by listing their symptoms; the new edition included guidelines for differentiating depression from other disorders like schizophrenia, dementia, and uncomplicated bereavement, and outlined eight symptoms of depression, included “poor appetite or significant weight loss” and “complaints or evidence of diminished ability to think or concentrate.” If an adult met four of the eight symptoms, the manual counseled, he or she would meet the criteria for clinical depression. In the DSM-V, published in 2013, depressive disorders were finally allocated their own chapter. The diagnostic criteria were mostly unchanged, with the exception of one additional symptom: “Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, as indicated by either subjective report (e.g., feels sad or empty) or observation made by others (e.g., appears tearful).” Some scientists believe that the DSM-V definition is still too vague. As the psychiatrist Daniel Goldberg noted in the journal World Psychiatry in 2011, many of the DSM symptoms are opposites, which can make it difficult for researchers working to develop a more precise understanding of the condition. “A patient who has psychomotor retardation, hypersomnia, and gaining weight is scored as having identical symptoms as another who is agitated, sleeping badly, and has weight loss,” Goldberg wrote. Many recent studies have corroborated Goldberg’s concerns. In 2000, for example, a group of researchers at Johns Hopkins University attempted to identify subtypes of depression by studying the symptoms of nearly 2,000 patients. However, the researchers were unable to find much of a pattern connecting gender, family history, symptoms, and the degree of the condition (mild to severe). “Depression is heterogeneous,” they concluded, adding that “the severity of an episode appears to be more informative than the pattern of symptoms.” And in 2010, researchers in Germany testing the validity of the DSM-IV definition found that the criteria captured a huge population of patients with “widely varying associations with the pattern of co-morbidity, personality traits, features of the depressive episode and demographic characteristics.” The results, they argued, “challenge our understanding of major depression as a homogeneous categorical entity.” Part of the problem, said Scott Monroe, a professor of psychology at the University of Notre Dame, is that in medical parlance, depression is considered a syndrome rather than a disease. (While a disease is a specific condition characterized by a common underlying cause and consistent physical traits, a syndrome is a collection of signs and symptoms known to frequently appear together, but without a single known cause.) In a paper published in June in the journal Current Directions in Psychological Science, Monroe called for scientists to begin defining depression with more precision. “It is in this vague and imprecise realm that problems can arise,” he wrote, “and vague insights based on imperfect similarities and differences eventually may prove to be clear oversights.” Part of the reason that scientists are still working in the “vague and imprecise realm,” as Monroe put it, is because they still don’t have a clear answer for what causes depression. In the 1960s, the dominant hypothesis was that it stemmed from a chemical imbalance in the brain, specifically from lower levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin. As a result, drug companies poured resources into developing “selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors” (SSRIs), drugs that increased the amount of serotonin in the brain. SSRIs (a group that includes Paxil, Zoloft, and Prozac, among others) are still the most commonly prescribed type of antidepressant—despite the fact that research has shown that lower levels of serotonin do not necessarily cause depression for all individuals. And in 2010, a review of three decades’ worth of studies on antidepressants found that while SSRIs can be helpful for severely depressed people, their effectiveness “may be minimal or nonexistent” in those with mild or moderate depression. Bruce Cuthbert, the director of adult translational research and treatment development at the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), thinks that part of the problem is that researchers have largely focused their attention on finding a one-size-fits-all treatment that doesn’t exist. “When you do a clinical trial, you’re getting a bunch of people who are ‘depressed,’ but they’re actually very different,” he said. “It’s like comparing apples, pears, and tangerines. You’re not going to see a significant effect. You’re not going to be able to say, ‘This treatment works for fruits.’” Trying to create a singular treatment for depression, Cuthbert said, is like trying to create one for cancer: too unspecific to actually be helpful. “While DSM has been described as a ‘Bible’ for the field, it is, at best, a dictionary, creating a set of labels and defining each,” the NIMH director Tom Insel wrote in 2013. “Unlike our definitions of ischemic heart disease, lymphoma, or AIDS, the DSM diagnoses are based on a consensus about clusters of clinical symptoms, not any objective laboratory measure.” In 2010, Insel invited Cuthbert, who was then working as a psychology professor at the University of Minnesota, to help the NIMH develop a new framework for defining mental illness. The result, unveiled in 2013, was the Research Domain Criteria (RDoC), a system created to flip the way researchers think about mental disorders. Unlike the DSM, RDoC isn’t organized by disorder; instead, it’s organized around specific symptoms, like fear, anhedonia (the inability to feel pleasure), and willingness or unwillingness to work. The system also lists the genes, neural circuits, physical response, and self-reported behavior associated with each symptom. The theory behind this RDoC system is that treating a specific symptom will produce better results than treating a broad category of illness. Many depression patients exhibit anhedonia, for example, but many others don’t. But if researchers took a group of patients who all displayed anhedonia, regardless of their diagnosis (it’s also a common symptom of schizophrenia) and tested treatments for that very specific symptom, they would get better results for treating anhedonia. The current definition of depression, Cuthbert explains, has largely stemmed from scientists observing patients and then developing lists of symptoms based on what they saw. “The belief was that if you described the disorder well enough, you would be able to define it,” he said. But it’s becoming increasingly clear, he said, that by relying on describing the disorder, scientists are only skimming the surface in terms of understanding it. Cuthbert hopes that the RDoC system will challenge researchers to look at the mechanics of each symptom more closely, and in the process, come up with more well-informed ideas around how to diagnose mental illness. “We’re starting over with how we think about mental disorders,” Cuthbert said. “Our current diagnostic system is running out of steam for research.” “Our current concept of depression is left over from times when we didn’t really understand it very much,” he added. “We know so much more about it now—physically, genetically, neurochemically—and we should be using that.” ΠΗΓΗ : theatlantic.com
  14. Ένα εξαιρετικό βιντεάκι από το γκρουπ "35 MM - A GROUP FOR CINEPHILES" του vimeo.com https://vimeo.com/132788265
  15. ....γαμάτο !!! btw, πήγα χθες σούπερ μάρκετ και ο κόσμος την είχε πέσει στα κωλόχαρτα, στη ζάχαρη και στον καφέ ( να μη μείνουν χωρίς φραπεδιά όταν βαρέσουμε κανόνι... ), με μια λέξη ΚΑΤΑΝΤΙΑ !!! Ο λαός αυτός δεν έχει παιδεία, τέλος.-
  16. Ο φόβος είναι ο χειρότερος γιατρός Αναζητώντας τη λογική ανάμεσα σε πολίτες που έχουν μείνει αποσβολωμένοι μπρος στον άγνωστο εχθρό. Χρήστος Χατζηιωάννου , Πριν από 9 ώρες , oneman.gr Το δημοψήφισμα είναι ενδεχομένως το μεγαλύτερο δημοκρατικό δικαίωμα. Σημαντικότερο και από τις εκλογές μιας και αποτελεί την επιτομή της άμεσης δημοκρατίας, όπου όλοι μας θα σταθούμε στον λόφο της Πνύκας και θα φωνάξουμε τα δικά μας βροντερά “ΝΑΙ” ή “ΌΧΙ”. Είναι τόσο σπουδαίο το δημοψήφισμα, είναι τόσο σημαντικό ως πολιτική λύση που το κρατούσαμε καλά φυλαγμένο στο πολιτικό συρτάρι για μία ξεχωριστή στιγμή. Και αποφασίσαμε ως έθνος (οι νόμιμα εκλεγμένοι αντιπρόσωποί μας δηλαδή) ότι αυτή η στιγμή είναι τώρα. Κι ας πούμε ότι μπορώ να χωνέψω το ότι το δημοψήφισμα είναι χωρίς σαφές ερώτημα. Βασικά, όχι, δεν μπορώ να το χωνέψω γιατί δεν ξέρω ακόμα και μετά από 3 ημέρες από την ανακοίνωση του δημοψηφίσματος σε τι λέω “ναι” και σε τι λέω “όχι”. Κι ας πούμε ότι μπορώ να χωνέψω την τόσο σύντομη διεξαγωγή του. Βασικά, όχι, δεν μπορώ να το χωνέψω. Οι Σκωτσέζοι είχαν 2 ολόκληρα χρόνια να συζητήσουν την ανεξαρτησία τους. Εμείς δεν θα μπορούσαμε να έχουμε 2 χρόνια αλλά θα ένιωθα υπέροχα αν από το Φλεβάρη ήξερα ότι στις 5 Ιουλίου θα έχω ένα δημοψήφισμα για να κρίνω τις όποιες μέχρι τότε ζυμώσεις. Ας πούμε λοιπόν ότι αναγκαστικά θα χωνέψω ότι πρέπει μέσα σε λίγες ημέρες να αποφασίσω το μέλλον της χώρας μου. Δεν βλέπω όμως μπροστά μου, πίσω μου και γύρω μου ούτε έναν άνθρωπο αρκετά νηφάλιο ώστε να πάρει μια απόφαση. Ένας λαός εν θερμώ, ένας λαός οργισμένος αλλά κυριότερα ένας λαός φοβισμένος δεν μπορεί να αποφασίσει ανεπηρέαστος το μέλλον του. Και πρέπει και η μία πλευρά και η άλλη, να καταλάβουν, ότι ο φόβος δεν είναι και δεν πρέπει να είναι πολιτικό παιχνίδι. Ο φόβος είναι ένα πανίσχυρο όπλο στα χέρια των πολιτικών, των MEDIA, στα χέρια κάθε μορφής εξουσίας. Χειραγωγώντας τον δημόσιο φόβο τα τελευταία χρόνια, οι κυβερνήσεις – εντός και εκτός συνόρων - έχουν κατορθώσει να περάσουν μέτρα και διατάξεις που δεν θα είχαν καμία τύχη σε άλλη χρονική συγκυρία. Από την 11η Σεπτεμβρίου και το χτύπημα στους Δίδυμους Πύργους έχουμε την αναγέννηση του όρου “fear politics” αλλά όχι με τον παραδοσιακό τρόπο, όχι με τον τρόπο που ήθελε τους κατά χώρα δικτάτορες ή εξουσιαστές να χρησιμοποιούν τον φόβο για να ασκήσουν την επιβολή τους. Τα τελευταία χρόνια, η πολιτική του φόβου αναφέρεται σε έναν φόβο απροσδιόριστο, σε έναν φόβο που δεν μπορεί να οριστεί σε μία και μόνο συγκεκριμένη απειλή. Και ήταν μόλις λίγα τα χρόνια που πέρασαν για να περάσουμε από τον απροσδιόριστο φόβο απέναντι σε πάσης φύσης τρομοκράτη στον απροσδιόριστο φόβο της οικονομικής κρίσης. Τι φοβόμαστε ακριβώς εδώ και 5 χρόνια στην Ελλάδα; Ότι θα χρεοκωπήσουμε; Ότι θα κουρευτούν οι καταθέσεις μας; Ότι θα μείνουμε χωρίς τρόφιμα; Ότι θα μας πάρει το κράτος τα λεφτά μας; Αυτός ο απροσδιόριστος φόβος είναι εν μέρει η αόριστη ατάκα του Τσίπρα (βασικά του Roosevelt): “Το μόνο που έχει να φοβηθεί ο ελληνικός λαός είναι ο φόβος”. Μόνο που ξέχασε να αναφέρει ο πρωθυπουργός της χώρας ότι τον ίδιο ακριβώς απροσδιόριστο φόβο που νιώθαμε ενόψει λιτότητας τα προηγούμενα χρόνια, νιώθουμε ενόψει λιτότητας και τώρα. Το ίδιο με την λιτότητα του μνημονίου, φοβόμαστε και τη λιτότητα της επαναδιαπραγμάτευσης ή της δραχμής. Σε μία ομιλία μου στο TEDx του Πανεπιστημίου Πειραιά στις αρχές Μαίου, έλεγα μεταξύ άλλων ότι ο ελληνικός λαός έμαθε να ζει με τον φόβο από το 2011 και μετά. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rso4S88Xiss Η ομιλία είναι 18 λεπτών και αφορά τον ρόλο των media στην εποχή του φόβου, για όποιον θέλει να την δει ολόκληρη. Από το 12:33 και μετά είναι το κομμάτι για το δίπολο ευρώ ή δραχμή. Ο λαός έμαθε λοιπόν με τα χρόνια, να μην χαμπαριάζει από τα deadline των Θεσμών και να μην τρομοκρατείται από όσα έλεγαν οι κυβερνήσεις ΠΑΣΟΚ και ΝΔ. Στις αρχές του 2015 είχε αρχίσει πια να μην φοβάται την κρίση και εν μέρει γι' αυτό έδωσε την ψήφο του στον ΣΥΡΙΖΑ. Μέσα στο κλίμα της ελπίδας και της αλλαγής, ο λαός ένιωσε ελεύθερος και από το φόβο. Είναι ο ίδιος λαός που 6 μήνες αργότερα είναι όχι απλά φοβισμένος αλλά τρομοκρατημένος για την επόμενη ημέρα. Με ένα δίπολο ευρώ ή δραχμή που επέστρεψε για άλλη μια φορά μετά τις εκλογές του 2012, με τον κόσμο σε δύο στρατόπεδα, με ένα δημοψήφισμα που νομίζω κανείς δεν ξέρει πόση ισχύ μπορεί να έχει τη Δευτέρα 6 Ιουλίου και κυρίως τι σημαίνει για τον κάθε έναν από εμάς. Ο Benjamin Barber, ένας από τους εξέχοντες θεωρητικούς του fear politics, έγραφε πριν λίγα χρόνια για την τρομοκρατία: “Terrorism turns active citizens into fretful spectators. There is nothing more inductive to fear than inaction”. Και είναι αυτό ακριβώς που βλέπω τριγύρω μου αυτές τις ημέρες. Ανθρώπους να έχουν παραλύσει, να είναι απλοί παρατηρητές μίας κατάστασης που όχι απλά τους αφορά αλλά θα καθορίσει και την ζωή τους,. Ανθρώπους που αντιδρούν σπασμωδικά γεμίζοντας τα αυτοκίνητά τους με βενζίνη και στεκόμενοι επί ώρες στις ουρές των ΑΤΜ, σαν τον Ηλία. Δεν φταίει κανένας πολίτης για το γεγονός ότι αυτή τη στιγμή είναι φοβισμένος στο σπίτι ή τη δουλειά του. Δεν φταίει κανένας πολίτης για το ότι καλείται την ερχόμενη Κυριακή να αποφασίσει με το πιστόλι στον κρόταφο τι θα απογίνει. Δεν φταίει κανένας πολίτης που ζούμε πρωτόγνωρες για την ανοχή και τον πολιτισμό μας καταστάσεις. Και πρόσεξε, το πιστόλι στον κρόταφο δεν το κρατά μόνο ο Τσίπρας ή μόνο ο Γιούνγκερ. Το κρατούν και οι δύο. Αυτή τη στιγμή, στο μυαλό του καθενός από εμάς, τα πάντα είναι φόβος. Το ευρώ με τη λιτότητα, η δραχμή με τη λιτότητα, η επόμενη ημέρα. Και οφείλουμε εμείς ως δημοσιογράφοι, οφείλουμε εμείς ως media, να μην επιδεινώνουμε αλλά ούτε φυσικά να απαλύνουμε τον φόβο των πολιτών. Ο ρόλος των ΜΜΕ είναι να προωθούν τον κοινωνικό διάλογο και να κρατούν υπόλογους όσους προσπαθούν να χειραγωγήσουν τον φόβο μας. Αλλά από ποια μεριά πρέπει να κρατάμε την ασπίδα αυτές τις μέρες; Τι νηφάλιο να μεταδώσει το κάθε μέσο όταν το πολιτικό πινγκ πονγκ αυτές τις μέρες στην Ευρωζώνη θυμίζει κοκορομαχία ανδροπαρέας για το ποιος είναι καλύτερος στο Pro Evolution; “Scare the opinion makers and they will scare everyone for you” έλεγε ο Barber και μέσα σε αυτή την ατάκα βλέπω κάθε έναν δημοσιογράφο καναλιού και εφημερίδας που έχει ανέβει σε αυτό το τρενάκι του φόβου. Κάθε έναν που είτε από φόβο και πανικό είτε κατευθυνόμενα επιλέγει να τρομάξει τον κόσμο στον οποίο απευθύνεται. Αν μπορούσες να δεις τους ανθρώπους γύρω μου, θα σου πω με φοβερή έπαρση ότι είμαι ο ψυχραιμότερος όλων. Όχι επειδή έχω κάποια καβάτζα ή κάτι τέτοιο. Είμαι πιο κοντά στο μπομπντυλανικό “if you got nothing, you got nothing to lose” από ό,τι στην άλλη μεριά. Αλλά ταυτόχρονα είμαι και οργισμένος. Γιατί δεν διανοούμαι η εκάστοτε κυβέρνηση, οι Ευρωπαίοι, ο Τσίπρας, ο Σαμαράς, ο Γιούνγκερ, εμείς οι ίδιοι, να φέραμε τον εαυτό μας στην σημερινή κατάσταση. Θεωρώ αδιανόητο να μην μπορώ να σηκώσω τα όποια χρήματά μου, θεωρώ αδιανόητο να βλέπω τους δικούς μου ανθρώπους να μην ξέρουν τι να κάνουν, θεωρώ αδιανόητο να μην είμαι κύριος του εαυτού μου. Και αν πριν λίγους μήνες χαμογέλαγα με τα instagram posts που έδειχναν τις παραλίες μας και τον ήλιο μας και έλεγαν ότι τουλάχιστον έχουμε αυτά, σήμερα απλά τσαντίζομαι. Τι θα τον κάνουμε τον ήλιο και την θάλασσα; Θα τα φάμε; Λυπάμαι μόνο τους υπέροχους στίχους του Ελύτη που καπηλεύονται τόσοι και τόσοι. “Εάν αποσυνθέσεις την Ελλάδα, στο τέλος θα δεις να σου απομένουν μια ελιά, ένα αμπέλι κι ένα καράβι. Που σημαίνει: με άλλα τόσα την ξαναφτιάχνεις”. Μόνο που όσοι το ποστάρουν, δεν αντιλαμβάνονται ότι ο βολεμένος, καλομαθημένος, εγωίσταρος Έλληνας του 2015 δεν αρκείται στο να ξαναφτιάξει τη χώρα. Για την ακρίβεια, όλα αυτά τα χρόνια που μπορούσε να ξαναφτιάξει τη χώρα, ήθελε και την ελιά και το αμπέλι και το καράβι, όλα δικά του. Και είναι ο ίδιος άνθρωπος που καλείται, νηφάλιος, την ερχόμενη Κυριακή να ψηφίσει. Με λιγοστά λεφτά στην τσέπη γιατί τόσα κατάφερε να σηκώσει μέσα στο Σαββατοκύριακο του πανικού, με τα χρέη βουνό, γιατί εκεί έφτασαν τα τελευταία χρόνια, αλλά κυρίως με αδυναμία να εμπιστευτεί έστω έναν από τους ανθρώπους που τον κυβερνούν ή θέλουν να τον ξανακυβερνήσουν για την αξιοπιστία των λεγομένων τους. Προσωπικά, νιώθω ότι δεν μπορώ να εμπιστευτώ κανέναν τους. Το δίπολο λοιπόν του φόβου, μας έχει οδηγήσει σε ένα σημείο μηδέν. Σε ένα σημείο που θα υπερισχύσει το τι φοβάσαι περισσότερο. Σε ένα σημείο που θα επιλέξεις πολιτικά εκείνη τη λύση που σου φαίνεται λιγότερο τρομακτική από τις δύο. Μπαμπούλας στο κουτί, μπαμπούλας και στην κουρτίνα 2. Δυστυχώς, οι ίδιοι άνθρωποι που απήλλαξαν πριν λίγους μήνες τον κόσμο από τον φόβο, κατάφεραν σε τόσο μικρό διάστημα να τον ξαναφέρουν αντιμέτωπο με αυτόν. O D. Paulson σημείωνε σε μία έρευνά του την περασμένη δεκαετία: “Many individuals feel now (2001) that they will never be safe again”. Μιλούσε για την τρομοκρατική επίθεση στους Δίδυμους Πύργους. Πολύ φοβάμαι όμως ότι αυτό ισχύει και στο σημερινό παράδειγμα. Πολύ φοβάμαι ότι οι μέρες που διανύουμε θα αφήσουν ανεξίτηλα τα σημάδια τους σε κάθε έναν από εμάς. Και θα μας γεμίσουν με ένα αίσθημα ανασφάλειας για τα χρόνια που θα έρθουν. Ανασφάλειας για τα χρήματά μας, για την ελεύθερη βούλησή μας, για την ανεξαρτησία μας. Ένας φοβισμένος λαός όχι απλά δεν μπορεί να ψηφίσει. Ένας φοβισμένος λαός δεν μπορεί καν να ζήσει. ΠΗΓΗ : oneman.gr
  17. Πάντως ο Σάκης (ο Ρουβάς ντε) είναι κατά του δημοψηφίσματος...
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