Quick rundown

Forgetting one's password means that posting is difficult. . . no impossible. I hate that every site has different rules for passwords, making it difficult for meto keep up with all of my passwords. So, maybe what that means is that I should post more often. But I've been busy. A new Nook for Christmas means that I've been reading my share, but also doing other things. Either way, here goes the quick update.

Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities. It's everything I always suspected. Most sororities are filled with superficial girls who drink and screw more than they study. But the author somehow infiltrated some of the national sororities and gave lots of information that is not available to us who weren't so cute or rich (or white) in college. The black sororities are portrayed relatively positively. The author acknowledges that some have been guilty of hazing, but focuses on the fact that service is an important part of the experience, more so than pre-gaming (drinking before the party) and partying. Perhaps the saddest thing is the black coed who rushed the white sororities at one of the Southern schools (Alabama?). She's everything that should make her a viable candidate,except her color. She's rejected by every single sorority the first year, and then with pressure on the sororities from the administration and support from that same administration, she tries again the next year. The result is the same. Why??? I wish I could have said to her, "Have some pride!"

Anyway, it was light easy reading.

Body of Work, by Christine Montross. This book made me a bit schizophrenic. On the one hand, it made me feel like a kid again, paying chicken with the gross-out factor. On the other hand, I felt like an inquisitive, mature adult, learning about the training that occurs with doctors. In short, this book chronicles the author's first year of medical school, with a primary focus on gross anatomy. Of course, that's the class where med students disect a cadaver. Montross gives sufficiently intricate detail abut the class itself, while interweaving her research findings on hunan cadaver disection, the attitudes of laypeople, and the training and attitudes of medical students in other countries. Along the way, we learn bits and pieces about her cadaver, whom she and her fellow students have named "Eve" because for reasons that they are never able to determine, she has no belly button. As a bonus, she talks about some of the structures of the human body. I found myself feeling around my own body for the landmarks Montross describes.

I gained a new appreciation for the challenge of first year med school as well as the challenge of learning everything in a complex structure like the human body. I feel some urge to donate my body, but I'm not quite ready to take the step of making the actual arrangements. Nonetheless, I had the stomach (and lots of other parts) to finish the book.

Blood Feud, by Kathleen Sharp. Greed knoweth no bounds. That's plenty evident in this book which traces the marketing of the drug Pro-Crit. I vaguely remember the TV ads that used to run, advertising this medicine that would increase production of red blood cells, giving chemo patients more energy. The ads gave hope that one could get through chemo and not suffer as much.

What Johnson & Johnson omitted was that it was pushing the drug for usse in a way that had little research behind it regarding safe dosing levels for use in cancer patients. Rather, J&J pushed doctors to use higher and higher doses.

The marketing of ProCrit for cancer patients was just the tip of the iceberg. J&J didn't invent ProCrit--it was a licensee, subject to a market sharing agreement, which J&J breached with impunity. The inventor reserved for itself the dialysis market, but J&J found ingenious ways to steal customers.

And then there's the kickback scheme, that allowed everyone--doctors, the commissioned sales people, and of course J&J to profit at the expense of the taxpayers.

The story is told mostly from the perspective of one of J&J's salesmen, who started as a superstar and ended as a pariah, and in the process, he brought down his closest friend in the company.

The book provides a fascinating look at the way big pharma morkets its drugs.

Hot Lights,Cold Steel,by Michael Collins. As I am solidly in my "I'm fascinated with medical school" phase, this book fit right in. Collins recounts his four-year residency as an orthopod at the Mayo Clinic. He starts out as an insecure first year resident, unfamiliar witht he jargon of his chosen specialty, and ends as a chief resident. He recounts the tragedies and the victories (such that they are) of memorable patients, including the 40-something woman who learned she had breast cancer when she came in because of pain in her hip--the cancer had already metastasized, leaving her only a couple of months to live. There's the tragic teenager who had a rare form of cancer that required the amputation of half of her pelvis. Would that we all had such a positive outlook on life as that girl, who focused not what she didn't have, but what she did have.

On Call: A Doctor's Days and Nights in Residency, by Emily Transue. Like Hot Lights, Transue recounts her years of residency. Hers is in Seattle, in internal medicine. Transue's book is not as well written, but it is still englightening given that she faces a broader range of patients with different needs. Like Collins, she's fatigued, but there are patients that are memorable and who have a profound effect on Transue. Consequently, while the book is not quite as engaging as Hot Lights, it is more deeply personal; one can see Transue grow as a doctor and grow in maturity and understanding of herself. Good read.