Category: History

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The House that Ruth (Beer) Built

I was perched in the upper deck of venerable Yankee Stadium as the dulcet tones of “O Canada” serenaded the patrons. As the Yankees took the field for a day game against the Toronto Bluejays, my thoughts turned toward food and beverage. A hot dog and a beer, I mused, was the classic choice. I felt the kinship of brews from the past, imagining my Uncles’ Bill and Herman and Cousin Jack quaffing Ballentine, Rheingold and Knickerbocker Beer under the facade as the IRT Subway rumbled by and DiMaggio rounded the bases.

I was well aware of the importance of beer in life and in baseball. It established prehistoric man’s enthusiasm for agriculture, paid the wages of those who built the pyramids and motivated  thousands of undergraduates to learn beer pong. In the mid 19th century, immigrants from Europe migrated across the Atlantic, to the land of opportunity.  One in particular, the Bavarian Franz Ruppert, established a brewery in  New York to slake the thirst of 19th century New Yorkers. Franz’s grandson, Jacob Ruppert, Jr. inherited the brewery from his father and purchased the struggling New York Highlanders in 1915. With his “beer wealth” he rebranded the club the Yankees, bought Babe Ruth from the Red Sox, established the farm team system, put numbers on the player’s uniforms and moved the Yankees out of the Polo Grounds and into a new Yankee Stadium in the South Bronx.

 Ninety-nine years after the opening of the original Yankee Stadium and 27 championships later, the “beer magnate’s” acumen has proven successful.

The memories of Three Ring Ballentine and Knickerbocker Beer have faded but the smell of outfield turf, and the aroma of malt and hops in the upper deck and bleachers in the Bronx in springtime lives on. And as the 20th century philosopher and late Yankee announcer Mel Allen opined, “How about that!”

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The Real Genie in Genealogy

As new grandparents, we await the wondrous moments of human development to flow into our much loved grandson. It has also awakened our curiosity of what lies ahead during his lifetime after we are a forgotten footnote of family lore. Sensing our own sense of evanescence, my wife and I embarked on the worldwide pursuit of genealogy. Who are our ancestors? What were their struggles?  What can we learn about the past that we can pass on to the future members of our family?

I strolled through the American Museum of Natural History and came across the hominid tree. Australopithecus, Homo erectus, and Homo sapiens were primitive versions of modern man but broadly complex and contained too many branch points to fully understand and impossible, of course, to trace back to our grandson.  Lessons of life on the Serengeti may not be helpful in our grandson’s future. Consequently,  I narrowed the scope by 250,000 years by downloading MacFamily Tree 2019 and joining ancestry.com. 

Standing on the shoulders of prior family tree creators, I embarked on tracing my wife’s ancestors. A few clicks and I was back eight generations and landed in the 17th century in Scotland and Ireland. Her tree was historically stocked with five Revolutionary War heroes, an indispensable aide-de-camp of George Washington, and our 11th President, James Knox Polk. 

Documenting my dearly departed Ashkenazi Jewish brethren proved a more difficult challenge. I summoned wisps of memory from late relatives recalling a “Civil War soldier,”  an  “uncle with a battle injury,” and a “Wall Street merchant.”  The documents were sparse to non-existent until I summoned the meager Eastern European geography clues left in the U.S. census forms of my ancestors. One patriarch listed his origin as Poland Russia and emigrated to New York in 1865, returned to his native land and then returned again to the US in 1875 with a wife 30 years his junior. What were the circumstances that prompted this circuitous path? What made him leave the US so quickly after his perilous journey? Unlike my wife’s clearly documented centuries of ancestor life, including details of her Presidential cousin’s kidney stones in 1812, my great grandfather’s trail turned cold. Serendipitously, he showed up in a Civil War Archive as a private in the 41st Regiment in 1865. As a replacement soldier, he received $300 so that the wealthy could be spared the injury and death that the war bestowed upon its participants. His regiment consisted of European foreigners regaled in the New York press due to their “extensive experience” in wars fought in Eastern Europe. Their return to New York City in 1865, after 70% of the regiment had perished, was snubbed by the mayor who sent a city councilman to attend the ceremony. I could understand his return to  his native land and family after these events. But WHY did he return ten years later? History of Russian Poland filled in the explanation. Poland ceased to exist in 1795 and was carved up by the imperial powers of Russia, The Habsburg Monarchy (Austria) and Prussia. Numerous national uprisings against the occupying powers occurred in the 19th century. Russia was particularly brutal in suppressing the uprisings and singling out ethnic groups, especially Jews for punishment. The Pale of Settlement, enacted by Catherine the Great in 1791 and enforced by subsequent Tsars,  prevented Jews from migrating eastward to Russia and limited Jewish involvement in public life. Jews were forced to serve in Russian military service for 20 years and their children were coerced to participate in exchange programs with other ethnic families so that Jewish children could be “Russified” and  their Jewish heritage could be suppressed. With the assassination of the Tsar Alexander II in 1881, widespread pogroms that indiscriminately killed Jews were encouraged by the government.  Fascism, while not invented in Eastern Europe, thrived in the urban and rural areas.  This singled out the Jewish minority for the ills of society and excluded them from national life. Out of this maelstrom of terror and unrest came Jewish charity and unified cooperation amongst communities for survival and ultimately migration Westward.

With this background, my great-grandfather permanently emigrated to New York City. His children took jobs as clerks, shop girls, “fancy goods” peddlers and paper cutters.  One young relative was employed as a “lemon squeezer” in presumptively a bar. The family took in boarders to put food on the table. My great-grandmother, known to me when I was 8 and in the throes of advanced dementia, had many years earlier extricated herself from poverty and became a nurse-midwife.  Sacrifice for the family was evident when sifting through the detailed census information at the turn of the 20th century. Military records recorded service in the first and second World Wars with distinguished service and injuries incurred in battle.

Our hominid ancestors gave us upright walking, tools and reasoning. As my genealogy tree branched and diverted to other spurs, it became apparent that the accomplishments of my generation and my descendants had only been possible by the sacrifices and tribulations endured by my family. Gratitude, respect and knowing the inter-connectedness of the human condition is the take home lesson to  pass on to my new grandson who begins his story before our very eyes.

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Hope for My Grandson’s Future

The alarm blared at 6:00 AM wakening me from a deep slumber. An early message in retirement is never a good thing, I thought, as I brought up the message icon. Our ‘grandson to be’ had decided to arrive five weeks early. We booked our airline flights to the nation’s capitol and arrived, rumpled and tumbled by the Uber drive over the Potomac, to our hotel off the National Mall.

Too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing, we pondered, as grandparents with 70 lifetime years of pediatric and internal medicine experiences. Lung function, oxygen requirements, surfactant, feeding ability, brain development and infection risk percolated through our collective anxiety. Scientific probability tempered with prayer was the way to dispel these troubling thoughts.

He was born fully formed, loudly screaming and feisty. He entered the Neonatal ICU for warmth, feeding, oxygen and observation time for the next 10 days as we wandered around Washington, D.C. awaiting his discharge and arrival to his parents’ home.

My  anxiety was heightened by the present and past of the U.S.A.  A man with a train conductor’s hat sat in front of the White House blaring music and chanting, “We are on the train of destruction.” Placards in front of the Capitol declared the illegality of vaccination for union workers. We strolled to our grandson’s future home by passing the Garfield Statue (assassinated president) and Ulysses S. Grant on Horseback (Civil War with 600,000 dead). We continued on past well dressed legislative assistants (struggling to pass much needed infrastructure bills) coming out of the Richard Russell Building.  I looked up Richard Russell, who was a former Senator from Georgia who defended Jim Crow and obstructed Civil Rights legislation, and wondered how his name was chosen for an entire building in Washington DC. 

Our grandson was thriving, gaining weight and bonding with his parents. Relieved, we passed the time in our nation’s collective warehouse: the Smithsonian Institution. Endowed by James Smithson, a wealthy Englishman who dabbled in chemistry and mineralogy in 1820, who generously donated his inheritance to a country he never set foot in for the cause to advance science and knowledge.  The Wright Brothers started their research through the museum’s scientific holdings and solved the heavier than air flight conundrum that baffled the world’s best minds. Lieutenant Commander Philip Van Horn Weems, recruited by Charles Lindbergh to perfect a better aviation navigational system led to an era of safer air travel for all. We saw the art of Saul Bellows documenting urban life in the early 20th century and appreciated the genius of the early neoclassical architects such as James Renwick, Charles Bullfinch and William Thornton who shaped our Capitol and early federal buildings.

At the Library of Congress we saw a portion of the over 800 miles of library stacks and more than 25,000,000 volumes that are available to all Americans that wish to research any topic and can participate in a plethora of summer programs for kids to introduce them to learning and research. This spectacularly beautiful building was full of historical treasures and important information. For example, we learned of the accountability of a democracy, embodied by the Presidential Recovery Act of 1978 that transfers Presidential papers to the public domain after office. This Federal Act was prompted by the willful burning of presidential records by Grover Cleveland, Millard Fillmore and numerous other Commanders-in-Chief.  

Throughout our stay in DC we continued our US historical scavenger hunt: we saw the documents of Lincoln establishing agricultural/land grant colleges in the 19th century that created American engineering superiority, the bravery of Harriet Tubman guiding slaves to their freedom through the Underground Railroad and the bigger than life statue of Albert Einstein in front of the National Science Administration accompanied by his proclamation of free thought in his new country and safe harbor away from fascism.

Opportunity, American ingenuity, hard work and the limitless resources of art, science, politics and jurisprudence documented in our nation’s capitol left us truly humbled. The presence of such endless possibility that is freely bestowed upon every American Citizen— in the backdrop of our grandson’s birth— left us in awe and rendered us speechless.

 Our grandson graduated from the Neonatal ICU into his home now several ounces heavier, with healthy lungs and an animated disposition. We, as grandparents, are now in the grandstand joyfully watching every moment of his wonderful life. Just knowing that opportunity and choice are around the corner as he grows and prospers in our great country brings us comfort as US citizens and hope for a brighter future for our newest patriot and family member.

  • Library of Congress Reading Room
  • Protest Signs outside of Capitol
  • Original 19th Century Columns Nation’s Capitol
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Gasless in the Carolinas

Fayetville Gas

Roadtrip!” Visions of Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Vacation and John Belushi’s scream of “Roadtrip!” in Animal House jumped into my consciousness. The reality was a 1,300 mile car trip up the I-95 to a bat mitzvah in New Jersey. Armed with Google Maps, hotel booking websites,  speed trap detectors,  streaming music services, several bags of M and M’s and 14 gallons of gasoline filling the tank assured me of a well-planned trip that could not be marred with concern or interruption.  I guided the Subaru SUV onto the steaming Florida Highway Interstate and headed North. 

Rumbling past Jacksonville (Named for Andrew Jackson, who knew?) and over the St. Mary’s River into Georgia, the motels and the Loblolly Pines blurred together as we approached the South Carolina state line. A few hundred miles later, my smart car, uttered in a distinguished Bostonian accent, “your fuel levels are low, shall I search for a gas station?” I pushed mute, left the I-95 in Fayetteville and was ready for a quick fill up in the nearest Circle K. Soon enough, a station appeared that was empty of cars but thoughtfully the pump handles were ensconced with plastic. This was a nice Covid protection, I thought. As I squeezed the pump handle with ever increasing pressure, the fuel gauge failed to engage.  My wife stuck her head out of the passenger side of the window, and exclaimed in that know-it-all-tone, “The plastic on the handle means they are out of gas. I reminded you 200 miles ago that a computer hack shut down the Colonial Pipeline and gas would be scare in the Carolinas.”  “It’s a big town, we’ll find gas,” I stammered. Confident that all that fracking, gulf oil reserves and the assurances of Colonial Pipeline execs would lead to a full tank down the road. 

My swagger started to fracture after four empty stations and a “skull and crossbones” emoji appeared near the gas gauge. Limping into a Red Roof Inn on less than one gallon, I anticipated a long layover, minutes from Fort Bragg and the U.S. Army Special Operation Command. Was there a way out? Scrolling down GasBuddy, multiple stations appeared with a slash across the gas tank indicating dead pumps.   Logging off the internet and onto the sidewalk, we hiked a mile up to the nearest 7-11 in search of up-to-date information on gas shipments.  My wife brought a wad of 20s with her in case bribing would be required. “A tanker was spotted five miles away heading toward a Circle K,” the cashier said in a slow Southern drawl. We coasted to our destination and got in line with 50 other cars desperately fighting for fuel. The hour wait was filled with mathematics and history flashbacks. What is the fuel volume delivered by the standard tanker divided by the autos ahead of us?   Memories of the Arab Oil Embargo and waiting for my 1/2 tank of gas with my even license plate was a returning visual in my mind.  Now, 43 years later, I could not think of how I would tell my younger self that I would be gas deficient four decades later due to rogue computer hackers. The moment had arrived, the pump inserted and the sweet distilled hydrocarbon liquid flowed into the tank. I peered to the side and saw a guy in military fatigues pumping gas into his Mustang. Could Special Ops storm Russia and unplug every hacking computer network? Not so easy. Another thought entered my mind from my pumping experience: the leaf controlled the dinosaur kingdom millions of years ago and now oil and gas clearly controlled a trip up the Eastern Coast and dictated our potential absence or presence at a bat mitzvah.

We rolled out of the Carolinas the following morning while tracking the gas gauge every 50 miles and filling up before the fuel gauge got below 3/4. Never take gas for granted!  Shortages of gas delivery and panic buying is a real American response. Perhaps, I thought in a rare moment of self-reflection, i should listen to my wife (who did tell me in December 2019 that a global pandemic was about to occur from a virus found in Wuhan China) regarding human behavior and its defensive responses under pressure and fear. Finally, bring on the electric cars!

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COVID and Nasal Memories

Pizza in my Olfactory Dreams

The Door Dash delivery was on the top of the steps, delivered from a  pizza service in San Diego that claimed “New York Style Pizza.” After the ritual disinfection of the pizza carton, the lid was lifted and I was delivered into another time and place. Scotty, the owner of a Queens pizza restaurant 60 years ago, was ensconced in my olfactory memory. He was flipping the dough as his octogenarian mother was lovingly molding a veal parmigiana hero that could make a grown man cry. Melted mozzarella, oregano, sausage and mushroom fumes reawakened a gustatory experience that I experienced for the first time, many years ago. With hops entering my nostrils from my Dad’s 1965 Miller High life, I left the COVID virus prison and entered a happier time when New York City  was a palace of gustatory delights and my childhood garden was in full bloom.

Through my nose, to the ethmoid sinuses, onto the olfactory epithelium and 60,000 smell neurons directed my pizza delivery directly to the frontal lobes and limbic system where Scotty’s still lived in vivid memory. This ecstatic experience is being stolen from millions by a renegade virus which has shut down the world for the last year. Expunging the smell and taste in some of the 25 million who have had COVID, which may have long lasting and permanent damage of the olfactory system. Malnutrition, depression and the loss of warning symptoms to natural gas leaks or tainted foods may be the legacy of sufferers of nasal COVID injury.

The least regarded of the five senses, smell and taste have taken a back seat in medical training and in popular culture. Medical school has few lectures on the proper function and diseases of smell and taste. Medical history taking neglects inquiry of one’s nasal and lingual capabilities. Olfaction has been a butt of jokes for generations of comics from the Simpson’s “smell you later”, Hawkeye Pierce’s ridicule on food sniffing in M*A*S*H and  Mel Brooks flatulence scene in “Blazing Saddles.” 

The dismissal of this forsaken sense is belied by its prominent location. The olfactory nerve, the shortest of the cranial nerves, sits in the front of the brain and sends projections to multiple areas including the emotional hub, the limbic system. Our evolutionary ancestors and current mammalian brethren rely on scent to distinguish friend from foe and food from poison. Our beloved canine, Millie, the Jack Russell Terrier from times past would apply the sniff test and rarely made a bad decision on food or domicile choices.

Obscure medical jargon has entered the mainstream with anosmia (lack of smell), parosmia (smell that fails to correctly match the odor) and phantosmia (phantom smells) appearing on long hauler COVID social sites. “Everything smells like burnt coffee” I heard a patient exclaim. “No longer can I taste the citrus in my tea,” another laments. “I ate a hamburger and I miss the onion smell and taste.” Essential oil kits are hawked on Amazon in the hope that olfactory re-education may hasten recovery. While the long term outcomes are not apparent in so recent a disease, it appears that up to 5% of smell sufferers may not  regain perception at 6 months.

“Don’t it always seems to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til its gone,” Joni Mitchell’s ballad went in the ’60’s.  And so it goes with Scotty’s appetizing, fragrant pies from the same decade. Enjoy your senses and don’t forget to stop and smell the pizza.

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Media Distortion Syndrome: The Baby Boomer Edition

It was 1963, the Yankees were swept by the Dodgers in the World Series, the Kennedy assassination was to be a month later and the Jetsons were on network TV. My upstairs neighbor, a wise old soul, a year ahead of me in 5th grade, casually predicted the future as he was downing his second Twinkie. “By 2000, all of the Jetsons things will be there for us.” The flying cars, the robot maids, the vacuum transport to Europe and the 2 day work week. 

Fast forward to New Years Eve, 2000 as I anxiously turned on the TV to watch the Times Square Ball drop to usher in the new millennium. Car commercials came on, all terrestrial vehicles, United Airlines ads promising low fares to Europe at subsonic speed and no robots in sight in my Southern California home. How could Joel, my upstairs neighbor, be so wrong?  A case of media distortion syndrome, baby boomer edition, no doubt. 

Social media is replete with opinions and conspiracies that pass as truth and shape our world today.  My generation, spared from the early influence of the internet, was a product of broadcast television. The three networks (CBS, ABC and NBC) and local New York City stations, WNEW channel 5 and WPIX, channel 11, raised us through the ‘50s and 60’s and shaped our proclivities, biases and sense of reality. Through the writer’s scripts, we were raised on the magical, the ingenuity of the white male, the geological time slips, bigotry-lite, and anthropomorphisms. Here is a sampling of television education gone wrong:

  1. The Magical
    1. Bewitched: A corporate advertising executive who marries a witch that can twitch her nose and change reality.
    2. I Dream of Jeannie: An astronaut finds a magic lamp and releases an attractive genie who alters reality and discombobulates authority.
    3. The Flying Nun: Self explanatory.
  2. Ingenuity and Family Glue: The White Male
    1. Family Affair: A wealthy, N.Y.  bachelor engineer becomes surrogate father to two prepubescent 6 year olds and a female teenager, assisted by his English valet. No problem!
    2. Bachelor Father: Bachelor attorney adopts his adolescent niece and live happily ever after. 
    3. Sky King: Rancher and aviator raises his niece and extricates her from all sorts of perils.
    4. My Three Sons: Widowed engineer raises three sons with the help of his father-in-law and later invites his daughter-in-law to live with the extended family. No problem!
  1. Geological Mayhem
    1. The Flintstones: Stone age family lives in Bedrock with their pet sauropod dinosaur. Humans: Pleistocene epoch, Dinosaurs: died in Late Cretaceous: 65 million year gap; a rounding error to the networks.
    2. The Jetsons: Flying cars, humanized robots and push button jobs but no physicists consulting on the show..
  2. Anthropomorphisms
    1. Mister Ed: A debonair horse who only talks to his owner and has an egotistical streak.
    2. The People’s Choice: Politician’s basset hound makes wise cracks about the hi jinx experienced by his owner.
    3. My Mother the Car: Self Explanatory.
  3. Bigotry-Lite
    1. The Real McCoys: An Appalachian grandfather moves with his grandson, and his family to cast aspersions on California natives. Starring  Walter Brennan, a John Birch Society member and avowed racist. 
    2. All in the Family: A Queens cabdriver, Archie
      Bunker, spins prejudice at home but his persona softened by his work ethic and his financial and housing support of his liberal son-in-law.
    3. The Beverly Hillbillies: Appalachian family moves to California where rich, wealthy Californians belittle the rural immigrants. A mirror image of The Real McCoys.

What we digested from those 3 networks and local feeds was entertainment to some and truth and dogma to others. Twitch your nose, rub a lamp, consult your single male engineer/attorney about child rearing or converse with your horse or your loquacious canine and prepare for a blissful life.  As to our current world, with each more outrageous conspiracy theory espoused on cable and social media, the Senate ready to discuss disenfranchisement of  millions of voters I can only shake my head and utter the insightful and comforting words of an equine star of yesteryear, “Oh Wilbur.”

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How Did Trump Happen?

As the key engaged the heavy deadbolt, a loud clank was emitted and the solid steel doors opened the locked ward of the LA County Psychiatric Hospital. That sound and the antiseptic smell of the unit still linger 35 years later, as I walked across the threshold, as a third year medical student, ensconced in my newly pressed white coat and brand new Washington Therapeutics manual.  A large muscular man was leaning on a table brooding and muttering to himself. The psychiatry resident pointed to him and asked me to take a psychiatric history. “He took a bus from Illinois and was arrested on the 405 Freeway while attacking cars on the off ramp with a crowbar.” After eliciting some grunting responses and “God directed me” responses to my clinical questions, I abandoned my medical questioning. “Send him to my office and I’ll demonstrate how to perform a psychiatric history,” my instructor demanded. Summoning the patient into the small office, I sensed a catastrophe in the making. Turning over the psychiatrist’s desk and chairs and uttering a string of expletives in rapid fashion, he stormed out of the room.  The resident paused for a minute and then observed, “That guy is dangerous. F**k the history. Double his haloperidol dose.”

This moment in my medical training recurs in my mind as I watched for the past 3 ½ years at the news correspondents’ quizzical looks as they tried to respond to Donald Trump’s ever increasing disjointed communication.  While my patient in the county psych ward communicated with violent behavior, he nonetheless was unable to express a coherent on-topic conversation that mirrors reality like Donald Trump.  As the evidence mounts of Trump’s psychopathology,  supported by Ivy League and family embedded mental health specialists, the parallel becomes more realistic.

How can you account for the election and sustained authority of a man that has no appreciation for reality, no empathy and no problem solving ability? Three concepts are critical, in my opinion: 1) The firewall of falsehoods that support politics and insulate the economic, profit motive for governance; 2) the pseudo-reality of 7 decades of television watching; 3) the inability of rational people to respond to a psychotic dialogue.

The political firewall of falsehood is particularly thick in our early education. We learn that Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence and the third president of the United States is a great American, however educators skim over his ownership of slaves.  Andrew Jackson, our “people’s president” and victor over the British in New Orleans during the War of 1812, was also the architect of the forced removal and slaughter of the Cherokee from Georgia despite two Supreme Court rulings against its legality.  Various wars fought in the name of preserving the American way of life were often a subterfuge for economic gain. The latter was particularly relevant for me during the Vietnam War, as my generation was drafted and conducted the war at the bequest of past presidents, including the corrupt Richard Nixon. The firewall called the war effort to “prevent the spread of communism” and contain China and Russia from world domination.  These pseudo-facts were debunked by Southeast Asian historical scholars and disseminated in political science courses during my college years and validated by the subsequent arc of history.  Profits and employment opportunities in the U.S. were the nested reasons for this conflict. Lobbyists dominate political decision making and mask the true reason for congressional and presidential decision making. When one does break the firewall of mendacity and falls on the other side, the lure of profiteering can steer you back to the wrong side. No wonder, during my one Vietnam era protest in Washington, I was warned by relatives that this could harm my future employment in Wall Street financial firms. It was hard to contest the Trump supporter’s claim that “all politicians lie.”

Television was the final coup de grace that catapulted Trump into the White House. The lack of critical thinking is pervasive in our society and television has obliterated the lines of news and entertainment. Early television could still cling to morality and group cooperation (think Father Knows Best and Gilligan’s Island). “Reality” shows that masquerade as truth created a fictional narrative that viewers accepted without reservation. Without The Apprentice, Donald wouldn’t have had the political on-ramp he enjoyed.  While all who worked with Trump in the real world of construction and media declared him a fraud, he was on television and they must be mistaken.

In summary, rational people brought up on falsehoods, ensconced in Reality TV  for a number of years combined with protective self-talk when confronted with uncomfortable behavior from elected leaders, begin to accept and adapt to irrational discourse and actions. Consequently, they excuse or ignore it.

So the narrative goes as follows: Yes, he tells lies, but don’t all politicians do the same (the firewall of falsehood) and he’s a competent businessman, it says so on television. The psychosis element is dismissed by either: 1) not dealing with it (think of how many people avoid the homeless);  2) he couldn’t be in his position with a diagnosis of mental illness.

Mental illness that erupts into violent and dangerous behavior is easy to discern and react to swiftly with isolating the perpetrator from society.  That was easy to understand in my early days of training. Like the frog slowly boiled in hot water,  we have as a society built a firewall from truth, televised abnormal behavior into entertainment and have been trained to look away and excuse or normalize statements of question or actions by leaders when confronted with uncomfortable behaviors.  My Uncle Jack use to respond to all inexplicable government driven situations with, “It’s Fixed.”  I think he is correct, but it is up to us to fix the fix.

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Uncertainty to Despair to Hope and Redemption: My Professional Life Battling an RNA Virus

I feel  like I am reliving a bad dream. The race to find a treatment and/or cure to SARS-CoV-2 is reminiscent of decades of practicing gastroenterology while hepatitis C roamed the hospital wards as a death sentence for many. I found myself recently recalling a patient whose story ends with science finding a cure.  The story begins in a community hospital’s ICU.

 As I peered around the ICU curtain, I could see the outline of a motionless ill man. I was visually greeted by a panoply of colors not usually seen in human health. Yellow skin and eyes, violaceous bumps on his extremities and blue hued fingertips. As I entered the room, I recognized him as the car salesman I had spoken to several months ago discussing the pros and cons of  an SUV versus a minivan. His labs and physical exam delivered the bad news that his liver and kidneys were not working and he had vasculitis, an inflammation of the blood vessels. While he had a case that medical students study intently, private doctors rarely see in decades of practice: essential mixed cryoglobulinemia secondary to Hepatitis C. In an attempt to curtail the virus, antibodies bind to viral proteins. Excess antibody-protein complexes, instead of being  cleared from the blood circulation, get deposited in the blood vessel walls causing inflammation and sometimes closure of the vessel. He was in danger of losing his kidneys, his liver and his life. A National Institute of Health study had shown a few years earlier that the immune stimulating natural agent interferon could have a beneficial effect on Hepatitis C. Interferon was started and miraculously the bumps disappeared, the kidneys started to make urine, dialysis was stopped and the jaundice receded. He left the hospital and completed 12 months of interferon, combating fatigue, low white blood counts and depression due to drug side effects. He had been cured of Hepatitis C and had dodged a fatal complication of the virus using a toxic biologic agent.  

This early success had been a rare gold nugget amidst multiple disappointing and tragic events in my experience with the RNA virus, hepatitis C. The lessons learned from this virus are worth retelling as this is a story that parallels our current ordeal with another RNA virus, SARS-CoV-2. 

The biologic veil of Hepatitis C was heavy and was only lifted in fits and starts. In the alphabet soup of hepatitis viruses, A and B were discovered early but “C” was undetectable and given the placeholder non-A-non-B for years until special techniques were devised to recognize its presence. Infection was through blood transmission, usually through blood transfusion, sharing of needles or instruments that were contaminated with the virus and inadvertently inoculated through the skin. In contrast to SARS-CoV-2, which has a presymptomatic stage of a few days, Hepatitis C’s silent period was years or decades before disaster would take hold. Cirrhosis, or significant scar tissue in the liver could impair the sieve like blood circulation within the liver shunting blood to places it normally wouldn’t go resulting in gastrointestinal bleeding, ascites and encephalopathy. Years of infection can lead to liver cancer with a dismal prognosis. 

My early encounters with hepatitis C felt like bailing water from the Titanic while it was taking on water. I could band bleeding blood vessels, start water pills and limit salt in those with fluid overload and give antibiotics to reduce the toxin burden and reduce hepatic coma risks. But without specific treatment for the virus, we were on a slowly sinking ship. Then the drug interferon came along. It was a mixed blessing. It was toxic, causing fatigue in most and depression in a significant minority. It could lower white blood counts and damage the nervous system. It worked in only 10% of patients with the most common genotype of the virus. Most diabolically, those who needed it most were cirrhotics, and for patients with this condition, it was the most toxic and had the lowest response rate. I saw harsh drug side effects that included suicidal thoughts, absenteeism from work on the drug and plummeting white blood counts in countless patients. I questioned whether it was worth the one in ten chance that the drug would work. Slow progress (too slow for patients on the liver transplant waiting list) was the rule of the day. Ribavirin, an oral drug, used with interferon, raised the response rate to over 40% at the expense of the new side effects of anemia and potential birth defects. Most of my discussions with afflicted patients were often discouraging treatment, waiting for “some breakthrough in the future.”

The initial breakthrough came: direct acting antiviral drugs were available in 2011. They were protease inhibitors, drugs that blocked the assembly of viral proteins within the cell. The first generation protease inhibitors had novel side effects including disabling rash, headaches and mouth sores.

I came to dread the newly diagnosed hepatitis C consult. It felt like a “pick your poison” option.  I could offer an imperfect and potentially toxic mix of therapy, not unlike the oncologist administering chemotherapy to a cancer victim. 

This all changed with the synthesis of the drug sofosbuvir, an RNA polymerase inhibitor not unlike Remdesivir, an encouraging agent for SARS-CoV-2. Sofosbuvir, coupled with new protease inhibitors was the miracle I had not witnessed in my four decades rendering care to my patients. It’s side effect profile was no different than placebo and amazingly the cure rate would climb to over 98%. It worked equally well in patients with cirrhosis and the course of therapy was “weeks” rather than “years.” And, it was a cure! Patients who would have been candidates for liver transplantation saw improvement and were removed from the transplant lists. Liver cancer risks were reduced. Other non-liver conditions like heart disease, immune function and cognitive function improved with eradication of the virus. I felt my office was the equivalent of a Lourdes destination for the hepatitis C patient.

Science rendered a disease that afflicted 3.5 million Americans and killed up to 20,000 people a year to an affliction that most likely will be eradicated from the planet in our lifetime. The success of the treatment for hepatitis C can be looked upon as a template for our next RNA viral battle: SARS-CoV-2.  Hopefully, we can build from the success of the hepatitis C RNA polymerase inhibitor and extrapolate to a drug combination that can treat the disease as we wait for a definitive cure and vaccine.  Covid-19’s fate must be one that someday, when I reminisce about this time, I write another science driven medical success story.

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The Art and Science of Barriers

“Good Fences make good neighbors” is a memorable and salient line from Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Walls.”  While the context of its meaning is a plea for the importance of privacy, it is a useful phrase for the COVID-19 pandemic as we all try social distancing as our physical defense and protective barrier from the Coronavirus. Six feet away from one another and swathed with a nose and face covering mask seems to be the barrier du jour. It has been that throughout life we must deal with barriers that represent either obstacles, as in the poetic verse of Robert Frost, or provide succor to our existence. In our current COVID-19 world, our imposed barrier, a protective mask, will be critical to manage our “new normal” prior to a transformative drug or vaccine. In essence, we need a science driven mask that is effective, comfortable and re-wearable.

Biologic barriers are present from conception. Surrounded by the amniotic membrane, we are protected from most pathogens. Upon its rupture and our ride down the birth canal we start the self versus society struggle.  Hepatitis B, polio, rotavirus, diphtheria, tetanus and pneumococcal vaccinations are our initial immune barrier. Child proofing mechanical barriers (plug locks, stair locks, edge protectors) are present during our formative years. Car seats and later seat belts protect us from motor vehicle morbidity. Science has driven these medical protections and public health measures have orchestrated their distribution to the public and their acceptances as standards of care.

Societal barriers have protected humans for eons from human aggression, accidents and microbes. The Caves of Lascaux  protected Paleolithic man, The Great Wall of China retarded invasion by the Mongols. The Roman emperor Hadrian built his namesake “wall” in Northern England to keep out the “barbarians.” Ramparts and moats around European castles in the Middle Ages slowed the devastation wrought by the Vikings. In our lifetime we put up with anti-terrorist barriers at TSA checkpoints at all U.S. airports. Physical barriers and screening techniques have been shown over time to decrease disease and death from outside threats to our well-being.

Our protection from COVID-19 now demands a barrier to our nasopharynx. We are now safely surrounded by our homes’ four walls and limited “world” contact through our UPS and Amazon delivery services. In order to integrate into society we need extra protection from the virus. A mask or “facial condom” could provide us with the protection and turn human interaction into an acceptable risk. We are now familiar with the N95, surgical, and home-made masks. We have YouTube videos of media celebrities constructing masks. Now,  “mask science” is the next logical step to assure that our efforts are working to prevent Covid-19 transmission. What we really need is some evidence based guidelines developed from a controlled study.

 The geometry is well known: N95 keeps out 95% of particles that are as small as 0.3 microns; droplets containing COVID-19 are 50 microns or less. Droplet spread is 6 feet, more if sneezing or aerosol transmission is involved from the contact. What we don’t know is what materials and layering are most effective against virus spread when used in a real world scenario.

Compliance and comfort are inextricably linked. When I donned a mask in the OR, my face felt like I was in the microclimate of Miami during the summer and my eyeglasses fogged up like winter in London. We have designers and aerosol engineers that can overcome “wearability” issues that could lead to improved compliance. We have industry and universities that have the capability of testing combinations of fabric under simulated and actual environmental conditions.  Distribution capabilities are available to send masks to every household in the United States utilizing the Postal Service.

Americans have internalized the use of seatbelts and TSA screenings in my lifetime. Introducing and complying with  a “new fence” is easier when the alternative may be a painful respiratory death. Wearing a fashionable, comfortable and effective face mask should become the “new normal.”  The design, efficacy and distribution is simply just one more barrier for science to overcome.

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COVID-19: Musings of a Baby Boomer: The Human Challenge

I was quite young but I could sense the unease in my mother when she first sent me off to elementary school amidst an uncertain risk of paralytic polio in the 1950’s era. She maintained her frightened countenance until 1960 when the Sabin vaccine miraculously appeared.  Many years later, my wife, a pediatrician, had intubated a young patient with measles who needed ventilatory support. A few days later, she staggered into my office, ashen and lightheaded. Her blood pressure was 70 and her sclerae were icteric. She had contracted rubeola and measles hepatitis. Looking up from her hospital bed she uttered, “if I don’t make it, you’ll need to find someone to help raise our (1 year old) son.  My nurse is wonderful and I give you permission to date her if I die.” My wife recovered and is my social distance partner 35 years later. These are but a few of my anecdotal “high anxiety” moments of contagious disease in my “baby boomer” memory. And that’s the point. These events are distant memories, rarely surface and are almost never mentioned. We move on and forget the lessons they taught until the next infectious insult makes us scramble for direction and hopefully solutions. In fact, throughout history this repetition is startling.

Humans have constructed great civilizations in only 10,000 years, surmounting  challenges and establishing the supply chains that provide food, clothing and shelter for the billions that inhabit this planet.  Yet we are impeded by one major human foible: selective long term memory loss in order to cope with the next medical task at hand. What do I mean?  Take human memory and the history of contagious disease in society. We learn, at an early age, that American and international history were shaped by infectious disease. Early settlements in Virginia in the 16th century failed due to malaria outbreaks. In 18th century Philadelphia, an outbreak of yellow fever forced our founding fathers to flee the city.  Bubonic plague outbreaks in Europe in the 6th and 14th centuries killed 50% of the inhabitants and changed Roman and Medieval society. The medieval citizens fled the crowded cities for pastoral domiciles sensing that social distancing would prevent the deadly illness. Great armies were felled by typhus and cholera during the Napoleonic Wars and World War II.  We don’t have to go back very far to see a world where our parents and grandparents had a stark recollection of epidemic infectious disease. Diphtheria, polio and measles, to name a few childhood illnesses were part of their daily reality. Parents banned their children from community swimming pools, recognizing that distancing them from the source was paramount.  I, born in 1953, recall fellow students in my class with leg braces from polio following summers spent hospitalized. As I entered medicine in the 1970’s, there were reminders of past epidemics on the wards. I rounded in iron lung wards in Rancho Los Amigos Hospital in Downey, California. I ambulated the pediatric wards at L.A. County-USC Medical Center, puzzled by the prominent parapets outside the patient rooms. “They were there so that physicians could round and quarantine themselves during polio outbreaks,” my attending noted.  Again, in the early 1980s a mystery illness with a severely immunocompromised picture in the patient appeared in daunting numbers. The AIDS epidemic was upon us as we scrambled for its cause and cure. As time passed, the memories of these debilitating epidemics receded whereupon complacency and the rise of the anti-vaccination movement became the cause celebré of the 1980’s and beyond. The resurgence of the measles due to lack of sufficient vaccination in the 1980’s did little to discourage the anti-science crowd. Perhaps a lack of firsthand experience with the measles contributed in part to their anti-vaccine stance.  As I gazed into the mouth of a patient during the measles outbreak and saw a Koplik spot, a physical finding that indicates measles, I realized that the outdated knowledge of this physical finding I learned 10 years prior was not so archaic. Actually, I had simply forgotten about this pathognomonic signal of impending rubeola. “Out of sight,out of mind,” I said to myself.

Now, the COVID-19 pandemic has arrived and upended our lives as did the many infectious diseases of bygone years.  Initial roll-out efforts for mass testing, tracking and isolating has been less than adequate. We have finally resorted to social distancing, an ancient form of infection avoidance.  Clearly, the same weapons seen in the great mortality known as the Bubonic Plague during the 14th century. Ultimately, a vaccine will rescue us along with medical mitigation via drugs and antibody rich plasma from those who have recovered. Let us take the lessons of this catastrophic time and the stories from our heroes: the first responders, the healthcare team and informed public servants with us for centuries to come.  Otherwise, we sentence ourselves to repeat the same mistakes.