Hitting a Nerve

Outside of caffeine, I have very few addictions. One of them is “Midnight Diner.”

“Midnight Diner” is a quirky, sometimes funny, sometimes bittersweet, Japanese series on Netflix. It’s about a small diner in Tokyo, open only in the wee hours of the morning, its enigmatic owner/cook, and the eclectic patrons that come and go. Each is seeking a dish that means something to them.

One episode (spoiler alert, in case you’re planning to watch it) deals with the regulars realizing a fellow who frequently comes in and orders potato salad is secretly Japan’s most famous porn actor, Erect Oki. This revelation garners him the respect, awe, and envy of the other male patrons, though Mr. Oki would rather be left to his potato salad.

The jokes are there ... but as things develop, we learn he has the potato salad because it reminds him of his mother’s potato salad — and that he’s been cut off from his family for more than 20 years because of his career path. The potato salad is all he has left.

While preparing for a shoot, he learns his mother has Alzheimer’s disease, and immediately returns home. As they sit talking on the patio of a care center, she tells him about her son, who lives in Tokyo, and loves her potato salad. The show doesn’t make it clear if she ever remembers who he is.

In the darkening hallways of her mind, she asks his sister for help in making potato salad for her visitor. It’s too salty, though whether this is from the ingredients or his tears is also never stated.

The episode is a poignant reminder of how Alzheimer’s disease is a worldwide human problem. Not American. Not western. Not restricted by race, or ethnicity, or continent. It effects us all as a species, as families, and as individuals. No matter what our jobs or backgrounds are.

For those of us on this side of the desk, it’s a reminder that effective treatments for Alzheimer’s disease are still not available. Yes, we have all kinds of new toys, but from a practical viewpoint it’s hard to say that we’ve made any major advances. I’m sure my drug reps will disagree with me, and I’m not saying any of the treatments of the last 28 years are worthless, but even now we’re still far from a cure, or even something that stops progression.

That’s not from lack of trying, either.

For all the jokes about his job, Mr. Oki is no different from any other children trying to hold onto their parents as the disease slowly takes them away.

I hope we have real answers, soon.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Outside of caffeine, I have very few addictions. One of them is “Midnight Diner.”

“Midnight Diner” is a quirky, sometimes funny, sometimes bittersweet, Japanese series on Netflix. It’s about a small diner in Tokyo, open only in the wee hours of the morning, its enigmatic owner/cook, and the eclectic patrons that come and go. Each is seeking a dish that means something to them.

One episode (spoiler alert, in case you’re planning to watch it) deals with the regulars realizing a fellow who frequently comes in and orders potato salad is secretly Japan’s most famous porn actor, Erect Oki. This revelation garners him the respect, awe, and envy of the other male patrons, though Mr. Oki would rather be left to his potato salad.

The jokes are there ... but as things develop, we learn he has the potato salad because it reminds him of his mother’s potato salad — and that he’s been cut off from his family for more than 20 years because of his career path. The potato salad is all he has left.

While preparing for a shoot, he learns his mother has Alzheimer’s disease, and immediately returns home. As they sit talking on the patio of a care center, she tells him about her son, who lives in Tokyo, and loves her potato salad. The show doesn’t make it clear if she ever remembers who he is.

In the darkening hallways of her mind, she asks his sister for help in making potato salad for her visitor. It’s too salty, though whether this is from the ingredients or his tears is also never stated.

The episode is a poignant reminder of how Alzheimer’s disease is a worldwide human problem. Not American. Not western. Not restricted by race, or ethnicity, or continent. It effects us all as a species, as families, and as individuals. No matter what our jobs or backgrounds are.

For those of us on this side of the desk, it’s a reminder that effective treatments for Alzheimer’s disease are still not available. Yes, we have all kinds of new toys, but from a practical viewpoint it’s hard to say that we’ve made any major advances. I’m sure my drug reps will disagree with me, and I’m not saying any of the treatments of the last 28 years are worthless, but even now we’re still far from a cure, or even something that stops progression.

That’s not from lack of trying, either.

For all the jokes about his job, Mr. Oki is no different from any other children trying to hold onto their parents as the disease slowly takes them away.

I hope we have real answers, soon.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Outside of caffeine, I have very few addictions. One of them is “Midnight Diner.”

“Midnight Diner” is a quirky, sometimes funny, sometimes bittersweet, Japanese series on Netflix. It’s about a small diner in Tokyo, open only in the wee hours of the morning, its enigmatic owner/cook, and the eclectic patrons that come and go. Each is seeking a dish that means something to them.

One episode (spoiler alert, in case you’re planning to watch it) deals with the regulars realizing a fellow who frequently comes in and orders potato salad is secretly Japan’s most famous porn actor, Erect Oki. This revelation garners him the respect, awe, and envy of the other male patrons, though Mr. Oki would rather be left to his potato salad.

The jokes are there ... but as things develop, we learn he has the potato salad because it reminds him of his mother’s potato salad — and that he’s been cut off from his family for more than 20 years because of his career path. The potato salad is all he has left.

While preparing for a shoot, he learns his mother has Alzheimer’s disease, and immediately returns home. As they sit talking on the patio of a care center, she tells him about her son, who lives in Tokyo, and loves her potato salad. The show doesn’t make it clear if she ever remembers who he is.

In the darkening hallways of her mind, she asks his sister for help in making potato salad for her visitor. It’s too salty, though whether this is from the ingredients or his tears is also never stated.

The episode is a poignant reminder of how Alzheimer’s disease is a worldwide human problem. Not American. Not western. Not restricted by race, or ethnicity, or continent. It effects us all as a species, as families, and as individuals. No matter what our jobs or backgrounds are.

For those of us on this side of the desk, it’s a reminder that effective treatments for Alzheimer’s disease are still not available. Yes, we have all kinds of new toys, but from a practical viewpoint it’s hard to say that we’ve made any major advances. I’m sure my drug reps will disagree with me, and I’m not saying any of the treatments of the last 28 years are worthless, but even now we’re still far from a cure, or even something that stops progression.

That’s not from lack of trying, either.

For all the jokes about his job, Mr. Oki is no different from any other children trying to hold onto their parents as the disease slowly takes them away.

I hope we have real answers, soon.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Black Friday is coming up. Although it seems (fortunately) to have lost some of its insanity since the pandemic, it’s still a huge shopping day for those who want to spend their day off in hand-to-hand combat at a Walmart. For me it’s a good day not to leave my house at all.

Following Black Friday we have Cyber Monday, where people go online to start buying stuff, presumably using business WiFi when they’re back at work. In spite of the apparent contradiction of having an online shopping day when people are at their jobs, it’s shamelessly promoted by the online retail giants.

Sandwiched between them is the quieter Small Business Saturday, started in 2010 by American Express and since gradually taking hold here and across the pond. The idea is to support the smaller local, perhaps family-owned, stores of varying kinds. Politicians love to talk about small businesses, calling them the backbone of the economy, promising to support them, etc.

I have no issue with that. I agree with it. I try to support my smaller, local places whenever I can. I’m glad AMEX started it, and that it’s taken off.

So why don’t we have a campaign to support small medical practices? Aren’t we small businesses, too? I’m the only doctor at my place, that’s about as small as you can get.

Like other small businesses, I don’t have the resources to advertise, aside from a simple website. At the same time I can’t drive too far without seeing a billboard, or hearing a radio ad, for one of the large local healthcare systems promising better convenience and care than that of their competitors.

I’m certainly not in a position to offer extended or weekend hours — I mean, I could, but I also have my own sanity to keep. But at the same time small practices may know their patients better than Huge Medicine Inc. We don’t have as many patients, and the staff turnover at small places is usually lower.

No one, though, is going to stand up for us, AMEX included (outside of cosmetic services, doctor visit charges are probably a tiny fraction of credit card company charges). Even our own organizations, like the AMA and others, won’t (at least not too much). They might pay lip service to us, but the reality is that most of their members work for large healthcare systems. Those groups probably make some big donations to them, too. So the last thing they want to do is tick them off.

I’m not against large groups. They have capabilities I don’t, like the ability to run research trials and have subspecialists. Even the best of us in solo practice needs someone better to refer to, such as an epileptologist, Parkinsonologist, neuromuscular disease-ologist, When I can’t help a patient any further those are the doctors I turn to, and, believe me, I appreciate them.

But it sometimes seems odd that, in a world where financial companies and public figures often stress their support for small business, those of us in the small medical practice are forgotten.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Black Friday is coming up. Although it seems (fortunately) to have lost some of its insanity since the pandemic, it’s still a huge shopping day for those who want to spend their day off in hand-to-hand combat at a Walmart. For me it’s a good day not to leave my house at all.

Following Black Friday we have Cyber Monday, where people go online to start buying stuff, presumably using business WiFi when they’re back at work. In spite of the apparent contradiction of having an online shopping day when people are at their jobs, it’s shamelessly promoted by the online retail giants.

Sandwiched between them is the quieter Small Business Saturday, started in 2010 by American Express and since gradually taking hold here and across the pond. The idea is to support the smaller local, perhaps family-owned, stores of varying kinds. Politicians love to talk about small businesses, calling them the backbone of the economy, promising to support them, etc.

I have no issue with that. I agree with it. I try to support my smaller, local places whenever I can. I’m glad AMEX started it, and that it’s taken off.

So why don’t we have a campaign to support small medical practices? Aren’t we small businesses, too? I’m the only doctor at my place, that’s about as small as you can get.

Like other small businesses, I don’t have the resources to advertise, aside from a simple website. At the same time I can’t drive too far without seeing a billboard, or hearing a radio ad, for one of the large local healthcare systems promising better convenience and care than that of their competitors.

I’m certainly not in a position to offer extended or weekend hours — I mean, I could, but I also have my own sanity to keep. But at the same time small practices may know their patients better than Huge Medicine Inc. We don’t have as many patients, and the staff turnover at small places is usually lower.

No one, though, is going to stand up for us, AMEX included (outside of cosmetic services, doctor visit charges are probably a tiny fraction of credit card company charges). Even our own organizations, like the AMA and others, won’t (at least not too much). They might pay lip service to us, but the reality is that most of their members work for large healthcare systems. Those groups probably make some big donations to them, too. So the last thing they want to do is tick them off.

I’m not against large groups. They have capabilities I don’t, like the ability to run research trials and have subspecialists. Even the best of us in solo practice needs someone better to refer to, such as an epileptologist, Parkinsonologist, neuromuscular disease-ologist, When I can’t help a patient any further those are the doctors I turn to, and, believe me, I appreciate them.

But it sometimes seems odd that, in a world where financial companies and public figures often stress their support for small business, those of us in the small medical practice are forgotten.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Black Friday is coming up. Although it seems (fortunately) to have lost some of its insanity since the pandemic, it’s still a huge shopping day for those who want to spend their day off in hand-to-hand combat at a Walmart. For me it’s a good day not to leave my house at all.

Following Black Friday we have Cyber Monday, where people go online to start buying stuff, presumably using business WiFi when they’re back at work. In spite of the apparent contradiction of having an online shopping day when people are at their jobs, it’s shamelessly promoted by the online retail giants.

Sandwiched between them is the quieter Small Business Saturday, started in 2010 by American Express and since gradually taking hold here and across the pond. The idea is to support the smaller local, perhaps family-owned, stores of varying kinds. Politicians love to talk about small businesses, calling them the backbone of the economy, promising to support them, etc.

I have no issue with that. I agree with it. I try to support my smaller, local places whenever I can. I’m glad AMEX started it, and that it’s taken off.

So why don’t we have a campaign to support small medical practices? Aren’t we small businesses, too? I’m the only doctor at my place, that’s about as small as you can get.

Like other small businesses, I don’t have the resources to advertise, aside from a simple website. At the same time I can’t drive too far without seeing a billboard, or hearing a radio ad, for one of the large local healthcare systems promising better convenience and care than that of their competitors.

I’m certainly not in a position to offer extended or weekend hours — I mean, I could, but I also have my own sanity to keep. But at the same time small practices may know their patients better than Huge Medicine Inc. We don’t have as many patients, and the staff turnover at small places is usually lower.

No one, though, is going to stand up for us, AMEX included (outside of cosmetic services, doctor visit charges are probably a tiny fraction of credit card company charges). Even our own organizations, like the AMA and others, won’t (at least not too much). They might pay lip service to us, but the reality is that most of their members work for large healthcare systems. Those groups probably make some big donations to them, too. So the last thing they want to do is tick them off.

I’m not against large groups. They have capabilities I don’t, like the ability to run research trials and have subspecialists. Even the best of us in solo practice needs someone better to refer to, such as an epileptologist, Parkinsonologist, neuromuscular disease-ologist, When I can’t help a patient any further those are the doctors I turn to, and, believe me, I appreciate them.

But it sometimes seems odd that, in a world where financial companies and public figures often stress their support for small business, those of us in the small medical practice are forgotten.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Earlier in 2024 the American Headache Society issued a position statement that CGRP (calcitonin gene-related peptide) agents are a first-line option for migraine prevention.

No Shinola, Sherlock.

Any of us working frontline neurology have figured that out, including me. And I was, honestly, pretty skeptical of them when they hit the pharmacy shelves. But these days, to quote The Monkees (and Neil Diamond), “I’m a Believer.”

Unfortunately, things don’t quite work out that way. Just because a drug is clearly successful doesn’t make it practical to use first line. Most insurances won’t even let family doctors prescribe them, so they have to send patients to a neurologist (which I’m not complaining about).

Then me and my neuro-brethren have to jump through hoops because of their cost. One month of any of these drugs costs the same as a few years (or more) of generic Topamax, Nortriptyline, Nadolol, etc. Granted, I shouldn’t complain about that, either. If everyone with migraines was getting them it would drive up insurance premiums across the board — including mine.

So, after patients have tried and failed at least two to four other options (depending on their plan) I can usually get a CGRP covered. This involves filling out some forms online and submitting them ... then waiting.

Even if the drug is approved, and successful, that’s still not the end of the story. Depending on the plan I have to get them reauthorized anywhere from every 3 to 12 months. There’s also the chance that in December I’ll get a letter saying the drug won’t be covered starting January, and to try one of the recommended alternatives, like generic Topamax, Nortriptyline, Nadolol, etc. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Having celebrities like Lady Gaga pushing them doesn’t help. The commercials never mention that getting the medication isn’t as easy as “ask your doctor.” Nor does it point out that Lady Gaga won’t have an issue with a CGRP agent’s price tag of $800-$1000 per month, while most of her fans need that money for rent and groceries.

The guidelines, in essence, are useful, but only apply to a perfect world where drug cost doesn’t matter. We aren’t in one. I’m not knocking the pharmaceutical companies — research and development take A LOT of money, and every drug that comes to market has to pay not only for itself, but for several others that failed. Innovation isn’t cheap.

That doesn’t make it any easier to explain to patients, who see ads, or news blurbs on Facebook, or whatever. I just wish the advertisements would have more transparency about how the pricing works.

After all, regardless of how good an automobile may be, don’t car ads show an MSRP?

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Earlier in 2024 the American Headache Society issued a position statement that CGRP (calcitonin gene-related peptide) agents are a first-line option for migraine prevention.

No Shinola, Sherlock.

Any of us working frontline neurology have figured that out, including me. And I was, honestly, pretty skeptical of them when they hit the pharmacy shelves. But these days, to quote The Monkees (and Neil Diamond), “I’m a Believer.”

Unfortunately, things don’t quite work out that way. Just because a drug is clearly successful doesn’t make it practical to use first line. Most insurances won’t even let family doctors prescribe them, so they have to send patients to a neurologist (which I’m not complaining about).

Then me and my neuro-brethren have to jump through hoops because of their cost. One month of any of these drugs costs the same as a few years (or more) of generic Topamax, Nortriptyline, Nadolol, etc. Granted, I shouldn’t complain about that, either. If everyone with migraines was getting them it would drive up insurance premiums across the board — including mine.

So, after patients have tried and failed at least two to four other options (depending on their plan) I can usually get a CGRP covered. This involves filling out some forms online and submitting them ... then waiting.

Even if the drug is approved, and successful, that’s still not the end of the story. Depending on the plan I have to get them reauthorized anywhere from every 3 to 12 months. There’s also the chance that in December I’ll get a letter saying the drug won’t be covered starting January, and to try one of the recommended alternatives, like generic Topamax, Nortriptyline, Nadolol, etc. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Having celebrities like Lady Gaga pushing them doesn’t help. The commercials never mention that getting the medication isn’t as easy as “ask your doctor.” Nor does it point out that Lady Gaga won’t have an issue with a CGRP agent’s price tag of $800-$1000 per month, while most of her fans need that money for rent and groceries.

The guidelines, in essence, are useful, but only apply to a perfect world where drug cost doesn’t matter. We aren’t in one. I’m not knocking the pharmaceutical companies — research and development take A LOT of money, and every drug that comes to market has to pay not only for itself, but for several others that failed. Innovation isn’t cheap.

That doesn’t make it any easier to explain to patients, who see ads, or news blurbs on Facebook, or whatever. I just wish the advertisements would have more transparency about how the pricing works.

After all, regardless of how good an automobile may be, don’t car ads show an MSRP?

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Earlier in 2024 the American Headache Society issued a position statement that CGRP (calcitonin gene-related peptide) agents are a first-line option for migraine prevention.

No Shinola, Sherlock.

Any of us working frontline neurology have figured that out, including me. And I was, honestly, pretty skeptical of them when they hit the pharmacy shelves. But these days, to quote The Monkees (and Neil Diamond), “I’m a Believer.”

Unfortunately, things don’t quite work out that way. Just because a drug is clearly successful doesn’t make it practical to use first line. Most insurances won’t even let family doctors prescribe them, so they have to send patients to a neurologist (which I’m not complaining about).

Then me and my neuro-brethren have to jump through hoops because of their cost. One month of any of these drugs costs the same as a few years (or more) of generic Topamax, Nortriptyline, Nadolol, etc. Granted, I shouldn’t complain about that, either. If everyone with migraines was getting them it would drive up insurance premiums across the board — including mine.

So, after patients have tried and failed at least two to four other options (depending on their plan) I can usually get a CGRP covered. This involves filling out some forms online and submitting them ... then waiting.

Even if the drug is approved, and successful, that’s still not the end of the story. Depending on the plan I have to get them reauthorized anywhere from every 3 to 12 months. There’s also the chance that in December I’ll get a letter saying the drug won’t be covered starting January, and to try one of the recommended alternatives, like generic Topamax, Nortriptyline, Nadolol, etc. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Having celebrities like Lady Gaga pushing them doesn’t help. The commercials never mention that getting the medication isn’t as easy as “ask your doctor.” Nor does it point out that Lady Gaga won’t have an issue with a CGRP agent’s price tag of $800-$1000 per month, while most of her fans need that money for rent and groceries.

The guidelines, in essence, are useful, but only apply to a perfect world where drug cost doesn’t matter. We aren’t in one. I’m not knocking the pharmaceutical companies — research and development take A LOT of money, and every drug that comes to market has to pay not only for itself, but for several others that failed. Innovation isn’t cheap.

That doesn’t make it any easier to explain to patients, who see ads, or news blurbs on Facebook, or whatever. I just wish the advertisements would have more transparency about how the pricing works.

After all, regardless of how good an automobile may be, don’t car ads show an MSRP?

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

On July 19, what was supposed to be a harmless software upgrade brought down a huge chunk of the health care, banking, flight, and travel systems.

While my dinky little practice wasn’t affected, several of my patients were in other ways. Tests that had to be rescheduled, flights canceled ... inconveniences, but not life altering.

Things are allegedly fixed (at least until next time) but there may be fallout down the road. People who had delayed medical procedures could have a different prognosis depending on what the results showed when they were done. Hopefully this won’t happen.

But it’s a reminder of how vulnerable our whole world is to disruption of the internet, not to mention the power grid and software systems. Paper is time consuming, and takes up a lot of space, but as long as you have a decent pen and enough light to read it you’re fine.

I’m not saying we should go back to paper. It’s more expensive in the long run, takes up shelf and closet space, kills trees, has to be shredded after a time, and turns yellow around the edges. It also makes it a pain to copy and transfer records. With paper I wouldn’t be able to take all my charts with me to refer to when I leave town on a busman’s holiday. The benefits of digital far outstrip paper or we wouldn’t have switched in the first place.

But it’s still kind of scary to realize how much we depend on software to keep things running smoothly. The events of July 19 were unintentional. Someone looking to cause real trouble could do worse — and there are plenty out there who would love to — and we’re putting our faith in companies like CrowdStrike to protect us from them.

But, on the flip side, we’re asking others to do the same. We often use the phrase “trust me, I’m a doctor,” in jest, but the point is there. People come to us because we have knowledge and training they don’t, and they’re hoping we can help them. We spent a lot of time getting to the point where we can hang up a sign that says so. And we, like everyone else, are not infallible.

We’re individuals, not machines. Both are fallible, though in different ways. In CrowdStrike’s case the machines didn’t fail, they just did what the humans told them to do. Which didn’t work.

The bottom line is that even the most well-meaning will make mistakes.

But it’s still pretty scary because, even unintentionally, there will be a next time. And between now and then our world will become even more dependent on these systems. None of us want to go back to the preconnected era, it’s too much a part of our daily lives.

Like the long list of potential side effects on any drug we prescribe, it’s a trade-off that we’ve accepted. And at this point we aren’t going back.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

On July 19, what was supposed to be a harmless software upgrade brought down a huge chunk of the health care, banking, flight, and travel systems.

While my dinky little practice wasn’t affected, several of my patients were in other ways. Tests that had to be rescheduled, flights canceled ... inconveniences, but not life altering.

Things are allegedly fixed (at least until next time) but there may be fallout down the road. People who had delayed medical procedures could have a different prognosis depending on what the results showed when they were done. Hopefully this won’t happen.

But it’s a reminder of how vulnerable our whole world is to disruption of the internet, not to mention the power grid and software systems. Paper is time consuming, and takes up a lot of space, but as long as you have a decent pen and enough light to read it you’re fine.

I’m not saying we should go back to paper. It’s more expensive in the long run, takes up shelf and closet space, kills trees, has to be shredded after a time, and turns yellow around the edges. It also makes it a pain to copy and transfer records. With paper I wouldn’t be able to take all my charts with me to refer to when I leave town on a busman’s holiday. The benefits of digital far outstrip paper or we wouldn’t have switched in the first place.

But it’s still kind of scary to realize how much we depend on software to keep things running smoothly. The events of July 19 were unintentional. Someone looking to cause real trouble could do worse — and there are plenty out there who would love to — and we’re putting our faith in companies like CrowdStrike to protect us from them.

But, on the flip side, we’re asking others to do the same. We often use the phrase “trust me, I’m a doctor,” in jest, but the point is there. People come to us because we have knowledge and training they don’t, and they’re hoping we can help them. We spent a lot of time getting to the point where we can hang up a sign that says so. And we, like everyone else, are not infallible.

We’re individuals, not machines. Both are fallible, though in different ways. In CrowdStrike’s case the machines didn’t fail, they just did what the humans told them to do. Which didn’t work.

The bottom line is that even the most well-meaning will make mistakes.

But it’s still pretty scary because, even unintentionally, there will be a next time. And between now and then our world will become even more dependent on these systems. None of us want to go back to the preconnected era, it’s too much a part of our daily lives.

Like the long list of potential side effects on any drug we prescribe, it’s a trade-off that we’ve accepted. And at this point we aren’t going back.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

On July 19, what was supposed to be a harmless software upgrade brought down a huge chunk of the health care, banking, flight, and travel systems.

While my dinky little practice wasn’t affected, several of my patients were in other ways. Tests that had to be rescheduled, flights canceled ... inconveniences, but not life altering.

Things are allegedly fixed (at least until next time) but there may be fallout down the road. People who had delayed medical procedures could have a different prognosis depending on what the results showed when they were done. Hopefully this won’t happen.

But it’s a reminder of how vulnerable our whole world is to disruption of the internet, not to mention the power grid and software systems. Paper is time consuming, and takes up a lot of space, but as long as you have a decent pen and enough light to read it you’re fine.

I’m not saying we should go back to paper. It’s more expensive in the long run, takes up shelf and closet space, kills trees, has to be shredded after a time, and turns yellow around the edges. It also makes it a pain to copy and transfer records. With paper I wouldn’t be able to take all my charts with me to refer to when I leave town on a busman’s holiday. The benefits of digital far outstrip paper or we wouldn’t have switched in the first place.

But it’s still kind of scary to realize how much we depend on software to keep things running smoothly. The events of July 19 were unintentional. Someone looking to cause real trouble could do worse — and there are plenty out there who would love to — and we’re putting our faith in companies like CrowdStrike to protect us from them.

But, on the flip side, we’re asking others to do the same. We often use the phrase “trust me, I’m a doctor,” in jest, but the point is there. People come to us because we have knowledge and training they don’t, and they’re hoping we can help them. We spent a lot of time getting to the point where we can hang up a sign that says so. And we, like everyone else, are not infallible.

We’re individuals, not machines. Both are fallible, though in different ways. In CrowdStrike’s case the machines didn’t fail, they just did what the humans told them to do. Which didn’t work.

The bottom line is that even the most well-meaning will make mistakes.

But it’s still pretty scary because, even unintentionally, there will be a next time. And between now and then our world will become even more dependent on these systems. None of us want to go back to the preconnected era, it’s too much a part of our daily lives.

Like the long list of potential side effects on any drug we prescribe, it’s a trade-off that we’ve accepted. And at this point we aren’t going back.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

For most of my formative years in medicine it was taken as gospel that 1-2 drinks/day, particularly red wine, was good for you.

Today though, the pendulum has swung the other way (granted, that could change in a year).

Recent re-analysis of the data now suggests there’s no benefit to any amount of alcohol. Zero. Zip. Nada.

This certainly isn’t the first time in medicine this has happened. It’s amazing how many studies end up getting re-analyzed, and re-re-analyzed, years later, with different conclusions reached.

It makes you wonder how these things happen. Possible explanations include flawed methodologies that either weren’t recognized at the time, confirmation bias, a rush to publish, and, rarely, outright fraud.

All of them, except for the last, are understandable. We all make mistakes. We’re all susceptible to the same statistical and psychological biases. Isn’t that part of the reason we do the peer-review process, so more than one pair of eyes can look for errors?

So, basically, no amount of alcohol is good for you.

Do I really think this is going to change anything? Hell no.

A huge amount of our culture revolves around alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker, but have no desire to give up my 2-3 beers per month, either. Just shopping in the store you see T-shirts, kitchen towels, gift bags, etc., that say things like “wine is just fruit salad” or “1 tequila, 2, tequila, 3 tequila, floor.”

The archaeological record suggests we began making alcoholic beverages 13,000 years ago. That’s a long time, and a pretty hard cultural habit to break. For comparison, tobacco has only been used for 3000 years.

In one of our strangest moments, America launched a 13-year experiment in prohibition, which failed miserably. Think about that. One hundred years ago, in 1924, you couldn’t legally buy alcohol anywhere in the United States. You had to break the law to get a drink, which most people did. Even then it was dangerous —in order to keep industrial ethanol from being sold to the public it was denatured with various toxins. As a result several thousand Americans died from their routine nightcap — with the government’s blessing.

Basically, alcohol isn’t going away. Not now, probably not ever.

There may be some out there who will alter their drinking habits based on the study, but I doubt it. I just don’t see too many people having a glass solely for the same reason they might take Lipitor or a multivitamin.

But I have no issue with correcting the original data. In medicine, and life in general, finding out what works is just as important as learning what doesn’t.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

For most of my formative years in medicine it was taken as gospel that 1-2 drinks/day, particularly red wine, was good for you.

Today though, the pendulum has swung the other way (granted, that could change in a year).

Recent re-analysis of the data now suggests there’s no benefit to any amount of alcohol. Zero. Zip. Nada.

This certainly isn’t the first time in medicine this has happened. It’s amazing how many studies end up getting re-analyzed, and re-re-analyzed, years later, with different conclusions reached.

It makes you wonder how these things happen. Possible explanations include flawed methodologies that either weren’t recognized at the time, confirmation bias, a rush to publish, and, rarely, outright fraud.

All of them, except for the last, are understandable. We all make mistakes. We’re all susceptible to the same statistical and psychological biases. Isn’t that part of the reason we do the peer-review process, so more than one pair of eyes can look for errors?

So, basically, no amount of alcohol is good for you.

Do I really think this is going to change anything? Hell no.

A huge amount of our culture revolves around alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker, but have no desire to give up my 2-3 beers per month, either. Just shopping in the store you see T-shirts, kitchen towels, gift bags, etc., that say things like “wine is just fruit salad” or “1 tequila, 2, tequila, 3 tequila, floor.”

The archaeological record suggests we began making alcoholic beverages 13,000 years ago. That’s a long time, and a pretty hard cultural habit to break. For comparison, tobacco has only been used for 3000 years.

In one of our strangest moments, America launched a 13-year experiment in prohibition, which failed miserably. Think about that. One hundred years ago, in 1924, you couldn’t legally buy alcohol anywhere in the United States. You had to break the law to get a drink, which most people did. Even then it was dangerous —in order to keep industrial ethanol from being sold to the public it was denatured with various toxins. As a result several thousand Americans died from their routine nightcap — with the government’s blessing.

Basically, alcohol isn’t going away. Not now, probably not ever.

There may be some out there who will alter their drinking habits based on the study, but I doubt it. I just don’t see too many people having a glass solely for the same reason they might take Lipitor or a multivitamin.

But I have no issue with correcting the original data. In medicine, and life in general, finding out what works is just as important as learning what doesn’t.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

For most of my formative years in medicine it was taken as gospel that 1-2 drinks/day, particularly red wine, was good for you.

Today though, the pendulum has swung the other way (granted, that could change in a year).

Recent re-analysis of the data now suggests there’s no benefit to any amount of alcohol. Zero. Zip. Nada.

This certainly isn’t the first time in medicine this has happened. It’s amazing how many studies end up getting re-analyzed, and re-re-analyzed, years later, with different conclusions reached.

It makes you wonder how these things happen. Possible explanations include flawed methodologies that either weren’t recognized at the time, confirmation bias, a rush to publish, and, rarely, outright fraud.

All of them, except for the last, are understandable. We all make mistakes. We’re all susceptible to the same statistical and psychological biases. Isn’t that part of the reason we do the peer-review process, so more than one pair of eyes can look for errors?

So, basically, no amount of alcohol is good for you.

Do I really think this is going to change anything? Hell no.

A huge amount of our culture revolves around alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker, but have no desire to give up my 2-3 beers per month, either. Just shopping in the store you see T-shirts, kitchen towels, gift bags, etc., that say things like “wine is just fruit salad” or “1 tequila, 2, tequila, 3 tequila, floor.”

The archaeological record suggests we began making alcoholic beverages 13,000 years ago. That’s a long time, and a pretty hard cultural habit to break. For comparison, tobacco has only been used for 3000 years.

In one of our strangest moments, America launched a 13-year experiment in prohibition, which failed miserably. Think about that. One hundred years ago, in 1924, you couldn’t legally buy alcohol anywhere in the United States. You had to break the law to get a drink, which most people did. Even then it was dangerous —in order to keep industrial ethanol from being sold to the public it was denatured with various toxins. As a result several thousand Americans died from their routine nightcap — with the government’s blessing.

Basically, alcohol isn’t going away. Not now, probably not ever.

There may be some out there who will alter their drinking habits based on the study, but I doubt it. I just don’t see too many people having a glass solely for the same reason they might take Lipitor or a multivitamin.

But I have no issue with correcting the original data. In medicine, and life in general, finding out what works is just as important as learning what doesn’t.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

I need a hobby. Any suggestions?

Due to the annual summertime slowdown, I find myself with less to do and catch up on during weekends. My kids are grown. Nowadays, when I have free time, I have no idea what to do with myself.

That’s not to say I don’t do things to relax. Jigsaw puzzles, reading P.G. Wodehouse ... but there’s only so long I can sit there, maybe 30 minutes, before I get bored. Then I go back to my desk, check email, log in to see if any prescription refills need to be addressed ...

I look online for ideas. No, I don’t want to collect things. Or start gardening. Or learn an instrument. Or paint. Or take up photography. The last thing I want is a hobby that involves a significant financial outlay for stuff I may be selling on eBay in 3 months.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

I need a hobby. Any suggestions?

Due to the annual summertime slowdown, I find myself with less to do and catch up on during weekends. My kids are grown. Nowadays, when I have free time, I have no idea what to do with myself.

That’s not to say I don’t do things to relax. Jigsaw puzzles, reading P.G. Wodehouse ... but there’s only so long I can sit there, maybe 30 minutes, before I get bored. Then I go back to my desk, check email, log in to see if any prescription refills need to be addressed ...

I look online for ideas. No, I don’t want to collect things. Or start gardening. Or learn an instrument. Or paint. Or take up photography. The last thing I want is a hobby that involves a significant financial outlay for stuff I may be selling on eBay in 3 months.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

I need a hobby. Any suggestions?

Due to the annual summertime slowdown, I find myself with less to do and catch up on during weekends. My kids are grown. Nowadays, when I have free time, I have no idea what to do with myself.

That’s not to say I don’t do things to relax. Jigsaw puzzles, reading P.G. Wodehouse ... but there’s only so long I can sit there, maybe 30 minutes, before I get bored. Then I go back to my desk, check email, log in to see if any prescription refills need to be addressed ...

I look online for ideas. No, I don’t want to collect things. Or start gardening. Or learn an instrument. Or paint. Or take up photography. The last thing I want is a hobby that involves a significant financial outlay for stuff I may be selling on eBay in 3 months.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Earlier in 2024 the French government proposed fining patients €5 ($5.36 at the time of writing) for no-show doctor appointments.

The rationale is that there are 27 million missed medical appointments annually in France (just based on population size, I’d guess it’s higher in the United States) and that they not only waste time, but also keep people who need to be seen sooner from getting in.

The penalty wouldn’t be automatic, and it’s up to the physician to decide if a patient’s excuse is valid. As I understand it, the €5 is paid as a fine to the national healthcare service, and not to the physician (I may be wrong on that).

In many ways I agree with this. No-shows are a waste of time and money for every medical practice. Given the patchwork of regulations and insurance rules we face in the United States, it’s almost impossible to penalize patients for missed visits unless you don’t take insurance at all.

Some people have legitimate reasons for no-showing. Cars break, family emergencies happen, storms roll in. Even the most punctual of us sometimes just space on something. If someone calls in at the last minute to say “I can’t make it” I’m more forgiving than if we never hear from them at all. That’s why it’s good to have the doctors, who know the people they’re dealing with, make the final call.

Of course, there are those who will just lie and make up an excuse, and sometimes it’s tricky to know who is or isn’t worth penalizing. Some people just don’t care, or are dishonest, or both.

$5.36 isn’t a huge amount for most. But it’s still symbolic. It forces people to, as they say, “have skin in the game.” Yes, they may still have a copay, but that’s only paid if they show up. This puts them in the position of being penalized for thoughtlessness.

Is it a great idea? Not really. I suspect most of us would dismiss it rather than fight with the patient.

But there aren’t any easy answers, and I’d like to see how, if they go ahead with the proposal, it plays out. If it works, I hope we won’t be too far behind.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Earlier in 2024 the French government proposed fining patients €5 ($5.36 at the time of writing) for no-show doctor appointments.

The rationale is that there are 27 million missed medical appointments annually in France (just based on population size, I’d guess it’s higher in the United States) and that they not only waste time, but also keep people who need to be seen sooner from getting in.

The penalty wouldn’t be automatic, and it’s up to the physician to decide if a patient’s excuse is valid. As I understand it, the €5 is paid as a fine to the national healthcare service, and not to the physician (I may be wrong on that).

In many ways I agree with this. No-shows are a waste of time and money for every medical practice. Given the patchwork of regulations and insurance rules we face in the United States, it’s almost impossible to penalize patients for missed visits unless you don’t take insurance at all.

Some people have legitimate reasons for no-showing. Cars break, family emergencies happen, storms roll in. Even the most punctual of us sometimes just space on something. If someone calls in at the last minute to say “I can’t make it” I’m more forgiving than if we never hear from them at all. That’s why it’s good to have the doctors, who know the people they’re dealing with, make the final call.

Of course, there are those who will just lie and make up an excuse, and sometimes it’s tricky to know who is or isn’t worth penalizing. Some people just don’t care, or are dishonest, or both.

$5.36 isn’t a huge amount for most. But it’s still symbolic. It forces people to, as they say, “have skin in the game.” Yes, they may still have a copay, but that’s only paid if they show up. This puts them in the position of being penalized for thoughtlessness.

Is it a great idea? Not really. I suspect most of us would dismiss it rather than fight with the patient.

But there aren’t any easy answers, and I’d like to see how, if they go ahead with the proposal, it plays out. If it works, I hope we won’t be too far behind.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Earlier in 2024 the French government proposed fining patients €5 ($5.36 at the time of writing) for no-show doctor appointments.

The rationale is that there are 27 million missed medical appointments annually in France (just based on population size, I’d guess it’s higher in the United States) and that they not only waste time, but also keep people who need to be seen sooner from getting in.

The penalty wouldn’t be automatic, and it’s up to the physician to decide if a patient’s excuse is valid. As I understand it, the €5 is paid as a fine to the national healthcare service, and not to the physician (I may be wrong on that).

In many ways I agree with this. No-shows are a waste of time and money for every medical practice. Given the patchwork of regulations and insurance rules we face in the United States, it’s almost impossible to penalize patients for missed visits unless you don’t take insurance at all.

Some people have legitimate reasons for no-showing. Cars break, family emergencies happen, storms roll in. Even the most punctual of us sometimes just space on something. If someone calls in at the last minute to say “I can’t make it” I’m more forgiving than if we never hear from them at all. That’s why it’s good to have the doctors, who know the people they’re dealing with, make the final call.

Of course, there are those who will just lie and make up an excuse, and sometimes it’s tricky to know who is or isn’t worth penalizing. Some people just don’t care, or are dishonest, or both.

$5.36 isn’t a huge amount for most. But it’s still symbolic. It forces people to, as they say, “have skin in the game.” Yes, they may still have a copay, but that’s only paid if they show up. This puts them in the position of being penalized for thoughtlessness.

Is it a great idea? Not really. I suspect most of us would dismiss it rather than fight with the patient.

But there aren’t any easy answers, and I’d like to see how, if they go ahead with the proposal, it plays out. If it works, I hope we won’t be too far behind.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Recently, the British Journal of General Practice published a paper that claimed that anxiety may be a prodromal feature of Parkinson’s disease). That news was widely picked up and spread.

The researchers certainly have some interesting data, but this sort of article, once enough general and social media websites get a hold of it, is bound to cause panic in the streets. And phone calls to my office.

An anxious-by-nature friend even emailed me the link with a laconic “Well, I’m screwed” in the subject line.

Is there a correlation between Parkinson’s disease and anxiety? Probably. Any of us practicing neurology have seen it. Some of it is likely from the anxiety of the situation, but the biochemical changes brought by the disease are also likely a big part.

But does that mean everyone with anxiety has Parkinson’s disease? Of course not. Anxiety is common, probably more common in our current era than ever before (this is why I tell patients not to watch the news and to avoid social media — they’re bad for your sanity and blood pressure).

Stories like this, once they start getting forwarded on Facebook (or another social media outlet), only raise anxiety, which results in more forwarding, and the snowball begins rolling downhill before crashing into my office (obviously this is a figure of speech, as it’s July in Phoenix).

The research is interesting. The point is valid. But the leaps the public makes are ... problematic. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes in demanding a DaT scan because they’re anxious. At $4K a test, that’s not happening.

The intersection between medical research and mass media, while not new, becomes increasingly problematic in the social media era, where things that are preliminary in the medical literature make the jump to certainty in the public arena.

Which raises anxiety all around.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Recently, the British Journal of General Practice published a paper that claimed that anxiety may be a prodromal feature of Parkinson’s disease). That news was widely picked up and spread.

The researchers certainly have some interesting data, but this sort of article, once enough general and social media websites get a hold of it, is bound to cause panic in the streets. And phone calls to my office.

An anxious-by-nature friend even emailed me the link with a laconic “Well, I’m screwed” in the subject line.

Is there a correlation between Parkinson’s disease and anxiety? Probably. Any of us practicing neurology have seen it. Some of it is likely from the anxiety of the situation, but the biochemical changes brought by the disease are also likely a big part.

But does that mean everyone with anxiety has Parkinson’s disease? Of course not. Anxiety is common, probably more common in our current era than ever before (this is why I tell patients not to watch the news and to avoid social media — they’re bad for your sanity and blood pressure).

Stories like this, once they start getting forwarded on Facebook (or another social media outlet), only raise anxiety, which results in more forwarding, and the snowball begins rolling downhill before crashing into my office (obviously this is a figure of speech, as it’s July in Phoenix).

The research is interesting. The point is valid. But the leaps the public makes are ... problematic. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes in demanding a DaT scan because they’re anxious. At $4K a test, that’s not happening.

The intersection between medical research and mass media, while not new, becomes increasingly problematic in the social media era, where things that are preliminary in the medical literature make the jump to certainty in the public arena.

Which raises anxiety all around.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Recently, the British Journal of General Practice published a paper that claimed that anxiety may be a prodromal feature of Parkinson’s disease). That news was widely picked up and spread.

The researchers certainly have some interesting data, but this sort of article, once enough general and social media websites get a hold of it, is bound to cause panic in the streets. And phone calls to my office.

An anxious-by-nature friend even emailed me the link with a laconic “Well, I’m screwed” in the subject line.

Is there a correlation between Parkinson’s disease and anxiety? Probably. Any of us practicing neurology have seen it. Some of it is likely from the anxiety of the situation, but the biochemical changes brought by the disease are also likely a big part.

But does that mean everyone with anxiety has Parkinson’s disease? Of course not. Anxiety is common, probably more common in our current era than ever before (this is why I tell patients not to watch the news and to avoid social media — they’re bad for your sanity and blood pressure).

Stories like this, once they start getting forwarded on Facebook (or another social media outlet), only raise anxiety, which results in more forwarding, and the snowball begins rolling downhill before crashing into my office (obviously this is a figure of speech, as it’s July in Phoenix).

The research is interesting. The point is valid. But the leaps the public makes are ... problematic. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes in demanding a DaT scan because they’re anxious. At $4K a test, that’s not happening.

The intersection between medical research and mass media, while not new, becomes increasingly problematic in the social media era, where things that are preliminary in the medical literature make the jump to certainty in the public arena.

Which raises anxiety all around.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

She was young, neatly dressed, professional. I don’t remember her name, though she handed me a business card as soon as I stepped up to the front window.

I thought she was a new drug rep to my territory, and I usually try to say “hi” when they first come in. They’re just doing their job, and I don’t mind chatting for a few minutes.

But she, as it turned out, was here for a whole new thing. Taking out a glossy brochure, she dived into a spiel about my offering a medical credit card through my office. I would get paid quickly, I might even get some extra money from patient interest payments, it is convenient for patients, win-win situation all around, yadda yadda yadda.

I smiled, thanked her for coming in, but told her this wasn’t a good fit for my practice.

I’m well aware that keeping a small practice afloat ain’t easy. Medicine is one of the few fields (unless you’re strictly doing cash pay) where we can’t raise prices to keep up with inflation. Well, we can, but what we get paid won’t change. That’s the nature of dealing with Medicare and insurance. What you charge and what you’ll get (and have to accept) are generally not the same.

But even so, I try to stick with what I know — being a neurologist. I’m not here to offer a range of financial services. I have neither the time, nor interest, to run a patient’s copay while trying to sell them on a medical credit card.

For that matter I’m not going to set up shop selling vitamin supplements, hangover-curing infusions, endorsing products on X, or any of the other dubious things touted as “thinking outside the box” ways to increase revenue.

I suppose some will say I’m old-fashioned, or this is why my practice operates on a thin margin, or that I’m focusing more on patients than business. I don’t mind. Caring for patients is why I’m here.

I also hear the argument that if I don’t market a medical credit card (or whatever), someone else will. That’s fine. Let them. I wish them good luck. It’s just not for me.

Like I’ve said in the past, I’m an old dog, but a happy one. I’ll leave the new tricks to someone else.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

She was young, neatly dressed, professional. I don’t remember her name, though she handed me a business card as soon as I stepped up to the front window.

I thought she was a new drug rep to my territory, and I usually try to say “hi” when they first come in. They’re just doing their job, and I don’t mind chatting for a few minutes.

But she, as it turned out, was here for a whole new thing. Taking out a glossy brochure, she dived into a spiel about my offering a medical credit card through my office. I would get paid quickly, I might even get some extra money from patient interest payments, it is convenient for patients, win-win situation all around, yadda yadda yadda.

I smiled, thanked her for coming in, but told her this wasn’t a good fit for my practice.

I’m well aware that keeping a small practice afloat ain’t easy. Medicine is one of the few fields (unless you’re strictly doing cash pay) where we can’t raise prices to keep up with inflation. Well, we can, but what we get paid won’t change. That’s the nature of dealing with Medicare and insurance. What you charge and what you’ll get (and have to accept) are generally not the same.

But even so, I try to stick with what I know — being a neurologist. I’m not here to offer a range of financial services. I have neither the time, nor interest, to run a patient’s copay while trying to sell them on a medical credit card.

For that matter I’m not going to set up shop selling vitamin supplements, hangover-curing infusions, endorsing products on X, or any of the other dubious things touted as “thinking outside the box” ways to increase revenue.

I suppose some will say I’m old-fashioned, or this is why my practice operates on a thin margin, or that I’m focusing more on patients than business. I don’t mind. Caring for patients is why I’m here.

I also hear the argument that if I don’t market a medical credit card (or whatever), someone else will. That’s fine. Let them. I wish them good luck. It’s just not for me.

Like I’ve said in the past, I’m an old dog, but a happy one. I’ll leave the new tricks to someone else.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

She was young, neatly dressed, professional. I don’t remember her name, though she handed me a business card as soon as I stepped up to the front window.

I thought she was a new drug rep to my territory, and I usually try to say “hi” when they first come in. They’re just doing their job, and I don’t mind chatting for a few minutes.

But she, as it turned out, was here for a whole new thing. Taking out a glossy brochure, she dived into a spiel about my offering a medical credit card through my office. I would get paid quickly, I might even get some extra money from patient interest payments, it is convenient for patients, win-win situation all around, yadda yadda yadda.

I smiled, thanked her for coming in, but told her this wasn’t a good fit for my practice.

I’m well aware that keeping a small practice afloat ain’t easy. Medicine is one of the few fields (unless you’re strictly doing cash pay) where we can’t raise prices to keep up with inflation. Well, we can, but what we get paid won’t change. That’s the nature of dealing with Medicare and insurance. What you charge and what you’ll get (and have to accept) are generally not the same.

But even so, I try to stick with what I know — being a neurologist. I’m not here to offer a range of financial services. I have neither the time, nor interest, to run a patient’s copay while trying to sell them on a medical credit card.

For that matter I’m not going to set up shop selling vitamin supplements, hangover-curing infusions, endorsing products on X, or any of the other dubious things touted as “thinking outside the box” ways to increase revenue.

I suppose some will say I’m old-fashioned, or this is why my practice operates on a thin margin, or that I’m focusing more on patients than business. I don’t mind. Caring for patients is why I’m here.

I also hear the argument that if I don’t market a medical credit card (or whatever), someone else will. That’s fine. Let them. I wish them good luck. It’s just not for me.

Like I’ve said in the past, I’m an old dog, but a happy one. I’ll leave the new tricks to someone else.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

After 26 years in practice, there are still things about the brain that amaze me, often that I first notice on myself.

Filtering (I guess “selective attention” sounds better) is one of them. We don’t notice it, but it’s definitely there.

Working at a jigsaw puzzle, I find myself looking for a specific piece, say, a white tab with a dark background and yellow stripe in the center. There may be several hundred pieces spread around me at the table, but the brain quickly starts filtering them out. In a fraction of a second I only notice ones with a white tab, then mentally those are broken down by the other characteristics. If it looks promising, I’ll look back at the space I’m trying to fit it in, mentally rotate the piece (another tricky thing if you think about it) and, if that seems to match, will pick up the piece to try. If it doesn’t fit the process repeats.

It’s a remarkable ability to see a relationship between two separate objects that isn’t always apparent.

But it’s not just sight. Although I’ve always loved music, it wasn’t until my own kids were in a band that I found the ability to break it down, removing the other instruments. It brings a remarkable clarity to suddenly hearing my daughter on the marimba, or son on the flute. Even with 70 other instrument playing around them.

You can try it yourself, listening to Keith Moon’s amazing drums on The Who’s “5:15.” Or in Bob Seger’s “Fire Lake.” Take out Seger and the instruments and you suddenly realize it’s the Eagles doing the background singing.

In Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain,” a song you generally don’t attribute to the Rolling Stones, a little bit of focus will reveal Mick Jagger’s distinctive voice in the background chorus of “Don’t you, don’t you, don’t you?”

The ability isn’t something we created. It was there from our ancestors in the trees and caves. They used this ability to identify friend from foe, find the right path home, and pick out what was edible from what was poisonous. Like with so many other things, and without realizing it, our brains have retooled it for the world we now face, even if it’s just to find our car in the parking lot.

Sodium, calcium, potassium, and other ions flow in and out of nerve cells, an electrical impulse propagates though a network, matching incoming sounds and images to ones previously stored. That’s all it is, but the results are remarkable.

We take the everyday for granted, but should stop and think how amazing it really is.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

After 26 years in practice, there are still things about the brain that amaze me, often that I first notice on myself.

Filtering (I guess “selective attention” sounds better) is one of them. We don’t notice it, but it’s definitely there.

Working at a jigsaw puzzle, I find myself looking for a specific piece, say, a white tab with a dark background and yellow stripe in the center. There may be several hundred pieces spread around me at the table, but the brain quickly starts filtering them out. In a fraction of a second I only notice ones with a white tab, then mentally those are broken down by the other characteristics. If it looks promising, I’ll look back at the space I’m trying to fit it in, mentally rotate the piece (another tricky thing if you think about it) and, if that seems to match, will pick up the piece to try. If it doesn’t fit the process repeats.

It’s a remarkable ability to see a relationship between two separate objects that isn’t always apparent.

But it’s not just sight. Although I’ve always loved music, it wasn’t until my own kids were in a band that I found the ability to break it down, removing the other instruments. It brings a remarkable clarity to suddenly hearing my daughter on the marimba, or son on the flute. Even with 70 other instrument playing around them.

You can try it yourself, listening to Keith Moon’s amazing drums on The Who’s “5:15.” Or in Bob Seger’s “Fire Lake.” Take out Seger and the instruments and you suddenly realize it’s the Eagles doing the background singing.

In Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain,” a song you generally don’t attribute to the Rolling Stones, a little bit of focus will reveal Mick Jagger’s distinctive voice in the background chorus of “Don’t you, don’t you, don’t you?”

The ability isn’t something we created. It was there from our ancestors in the trees and caves. They used this ability to identify friend from foe, find the right path home, and pick out what was edible from what was poisonous. Like with so many other things, and without realizing it, our brains have retooled it for the world we now face, even if it’s just to find our car in the parking lot.

Sodium, calcium, potassium, and other ions flow in and out of nerve cells, an electrical impulse propagates though a network, matching incoming sounds and images to ones previously stored. That’s all it is, but the results are remarkable.

We take the everyday for granted, but should stop and think how amazing it really is.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

After 26 years in practice, there are still things about the brain that amaze me, often that I first notice on myself.

Filtering (I guess “selective attention” sounds better) is one of them. We don’t notice it, but it’s definitely there.

Working at a jigsaw puzzle, I find myself looking for a specific piece, say, a white tab with a dark background and yellow stripe in the center. There may be several hundred pieces spread around me at the table, but the brain quickly starts filtering them out. In a fraction of a second I only notice ones with a white tab, then mentally those are broken down by the other characteristics. If it looks promising, I’ll look back at the space I’m trying to fit it in, mentally rotate the piece (another tricky thing if you think about it) and, if that seems to match, will pick up the piece to try. If it doesn’t fit the process repeats.

It’s a remarkable ability to see a relationship between two separate objects that isn’t always apparent.

But it’s not just sight. Although I’ve always loved music, it wasn’t until my own kids were in a band that I found the ability to break it down, removing the other instruments. It brings a remarkable clarity to suddenly hearing my daughter on the marimba, or son on the flute. Even with 70 other instrument playing around them.

You can try it yourself, listening to Keith Moon’s amazing drums on The Who’s “5:15.” Or in Bob Seger’s “Fire Lake.” Take out Seger and the instruments and you suddenly realize it’s the Eagles doing the background singing.

In Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain,” a song you generally don’t attribute to the Rolling Stones, a little bit of focus will reveal Mick Jagger’s distinctive voice in the background chorus of “Don’t you, don’t you, don’t you?”

The ability isn’t something we created. It was there from our ancestors in the trees and caves. They used this ability to identify friend from foe, find the right path home, and pick out what was edible from what was poisonous. Like with so many other things, and without realizing it, our brains have retooled it for the world we now face, even if it’s just to find our car in the parking lot.

Sodium, calcium, potassium, and other ions flow in and out of nerve cells, an electrical impulse propagates though a network, matching incoming sounds and images to ones previously stored. That’s all it is, but the results are remarkable.

We take the everyday for granted, but should stop and think how amazing it really is.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.