Posted on 10/14/2019 10:45:03 AM PDT by BenLurkin
In the 1950s, researchers stumbled upon a new class of drugs that provided relief for those suffering from schizophrenia. These drugs were known as antipsychotics and, as the name suggests, they reduced symptoms like hallucinations and delusions — primarily by reducing the levels of dopamine in the brain. This led clinicians and scientists to argue that dopamine was linked to the experiences of psychotic symptoms, and a concerted research effort ensued, seeking to solve the puzzle of why excess dopamine might produce hallucinations.
Although it was later shown that increasing dopamine could produce hallucinations, establishing a consistent link between them, it has not been clear why.
They achieved this by taking advantage of a simple fact: Your brain is lazy. It makes shortcuts to understand the deluge of information that bombards it daily. If you’re presented with consistent information, consistently, your brain adjust its expectations of reality in turn. This is the basis of Bayesian theories of how we perceive the world – that is, the brain makes inferences about the world around us based on statistics and probabilities on what is likely to occur.
[I]ncreasing dopamine made it more difficult for participants to adjust their perception — an effect comparable to how the hallucinators had struggled. Moreover, the extent to which participants struggled was strongly associated with the severity of hallucinations — but not with any diagnosis of schizophrenia. In other words, the difficulty appeared to be associated with a symptom, not a diagnosis.
Using brain imaging, the researchers also showed that an increased capacity for dopamine release, from a part of the brain known as the striatum (an area involved in schizophrenia), was associated with the severity of hallucinations. Together, these experiments showed that excess dopamine was associated with difficulty in accurately predicting reality.
(Excerpt) Read more at inverse.com ...
*tagline*
I may or may not have mentioned the whole schedule. I worked remotely Monday and Tuesday, then drove here yesterday morning early (so as not to spoil Christmas Day dinner). Next week I’ll do the same, except I’ll drive here New Year’s Day. We don’t have a special New Year’s Day dinner.
Thanks for explaining that. I was just a little confused. (It doesn’t take much...)
Lucky for us (you and Mrs ArGee and I) won’t be needing any of those “hair-of-the-dog” remedies that a lot of people will be needed on New Year’s Day!
I’m sure the Wildlands are nice, but we have deep roots in the suburbs.
We went hiking this morning. It was sunny and cool, but not at all unpleasant. Many families were out on the trails.
Regarding your tagline:
“As a New York Times columnist, Bari Weiss gets pilloried for decrying intolerance and bias ...”
Interesting that a person who is pilloried is held up to be scorned by the passing public, but a person crucified is nowadays presumed to be a savior.
I’m sure that I’m missing the proper context, but it’s my feeling that the smashing of idols can only rightly be done by the people who own the idols.
It’s metaphorical.
Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast.
I would catch it.
I don’t know for certain what Ms. Weiss’s point it, but for me, the idol that needs smashing is the one each of us makes of ourself.
The Morning Floof is cooling his belly off!
Good morning.
There’s something calming about seeing a cat sleep in that position or just rest, looking pensive with their heads on their paws, only their eyes moving.
Just for curiosity’s sake, I checked out the average rainfall for Hurricane and St George. Remember, now, they’re only 14 miles apart. Hurricane has 16” of rain a year and St George has 8” a year. I just stepped out to check my mail and the wind was blowing (seemed like in my face, going and coming!) and the wind chill was 23.4°. If I had a place to move into in St George, I’m start packing.
St G has almost 80,000 people, now, and it was about 14,000 when I left 30 years ago. That’s what size Hurricane is now.
Beaker is still fluffed on the bottom of the cage, with her head to one side to help ease the vertigo. I thought I still had all my books from my veterinary assistant school, but I can’t find the one I need. So I’ll have to wait until I talk with the vet again, because I can’t find anything useful about it online.
Kitteh fell down.
Just be patient. I’m sure something will work out in St. George in a time, times, and half a time.
And with that, I’m off to teach Archery Merit Badge. Don’t fall for any kittehs telling you they can’t get up.
Yes, I know a place in St George will be available when its “time.” I learned a long time ago that “all things come to s/he who waits.” I forget the comments in my head come out as complaints... Sorry... :o[
On the other hand, Jesus referred to the body as a temple.
"Love thy neighbor as thyself." Implicit in that is that we should respect, even love, ourselves, (even if it takes a little patience.)
Thank you.
Yes, there’s a difference between rightly loving oneself and making oneself an object of worship.
It’s philosophical.
Lovely weather for Archery Merit Badge at Winter Camp. I’m glad to be off my feet, now.
And while you’re talking of Biblical passages, Bob, don’t forget that Jesus told us we had to forgive everyone, not just the ones we deemed worthy of our forgiveness. When he said “everyone” that included ourselves, we are the ones we find the hardest to forgive.
For me, it wasn’t “when” or “if.” It was “HOW?”
So maybe we need to learn how to forgive ourselves for making idols of our selves.
I’d like to learn archery, even if I only did that — learned how. At least I could say I knew how!
Did you sleep well last night?
After I took Beaker to the vet, I looked online to see what it was that she actually had, and the ‘net was woefully lacking in information on parakeet diseases. The best I could find was that it was called, “Stargazing,” or “Circling disease” and it was almost always fatal.
The day after I brought her home she seemed vastly improved (Friday) and was on her feet, trying to jump up enough to see out of the cage. I was encouraged.
Saturday, she huddled with less and less movement as the day wore on. This morning, she was on her side and when I went to take her out, she was cold. My poor little Beaker most likely starved to death. I did put some seed on the bottom of the cage in case she felt like eating, but she was just too ill. I’m sure that five hour wait for the vet’s office to open had everything to do with her lack of response and finally, demise.
Now I’m going to go shower and see if I can wash some of this sadness away.
I’m so sorry about poor Beaker. They’re such fragile animals.
Perhaps if I could have afforded to keep her in the oxygen chamber overnight, the results would have been different, (she tells herself.) But on the other hand, why wasn’t I told it was fatal? I would have just had her put down to avoid all her suffering for three days and nights.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Gonzo is much quieter than usual. I put the perches back in the cage, and he’s content to have something to roost on besides the top part of the side of the cage. Goofy little thing.
I hope it isn’t contagious because if it is, I’ll just have Gonzo put down, rather than see him go through what poor Beaker did.
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