Bakarmısınn ?2

Merhabalar ,
 Bu gece  dört güzel blog tanıtıyorum  yaslanın arkanıza ve bu üç güzel insanı tanıyın hmm  dört blog üç insan nasıl oluyor diyenlere   birazdan geliyor cevap:))  


Sevgili Şengülüm ameliyat olmuştu ve uzun süredir yoktu  geçmiş olsun ziyaretinin  şimdi tam zamanı diyorum sıcacık dost ziyaretleri ve yeni arkadaşlar ona iyi gelecektir... tık tık












 İkinci  ve üçünçü blogumuzu tanıdığınızda    özellikle  bloğu için  bir şeyler yapmak isteyenlerin vaz geçilmez adresi  olacak gibime geliyor ,ben çok yararlanıyorum  seo , veb yazılımları ve blogla ilgili her şey var   ücretsiz  logo ve header yapıyor , ben bir çok  tasarımcının  bizim  bloglarımızı baz istasyonlu apartmanlar gibi doldurmalarına kızıyorum bir yardım yapıyor karşılığında  bana ait özel mekana  bayrağını asıyor   hemde benim bütün pencerelerimi kapatarak.

 Kibarca adını yazarsın  yada sana ulaşmaları için küçük bir linkini bir köşeye koyarsın   ama  kocaman  bir logonu   koy evimin ortasına tır çekmiş mübarek...

 Ben şahsen sevmiyorum  zaten dost kapım   üye olduklarımı gösteren kutucuklar var  birde onları koyarsam ne anladım ben özgürlükten burada özgür olmak değilmi amaç  bloglarımızda. 

 Web tasarımı yapıp bir çok siteye renk katan  iki arkadaşımızı tanıtmak istiyorum  birincisi iki bloğu aslında bir çok bloğu var ben ikisini tanıtmayı  uygun gördüm isteyen diğerlerinede bakar zaten..
tık tık ve diğer bloğu tık tık








 ve çok tatlı bir arkadaşımız  ne arasanız mevcut :)  web tasarımcılığıyla   harika işler çıkarıyor tasarımının altına çok  şık kibar minik imzalar atıyor  ona ulaşabilmemiz için  ben en trend web tasarımcısı diyorum:)) tık tık







 Küçük bir not; bu gün sözlenen , nişanlanan , evlenen  yada  biriyle tanışıp çıkmaya başlayan var mı? 
Sevgilerimle ...







Rare Disease Day 2016

My daughter Ellen wrote this post last year for Rare Disease Day.  We repost it today.  It's frustrating that, in the age of genetics, when finding single genes for rare diseases is what the field does best, she is still seeking answers.   


By Ellen Weiss

Despite being the product of  two of the authors of this blog – two people skeptical about just how many of the fruits of genetic testing that we've been promised will ever actually materialize  – I have been involved in several genetic studies over the years, hoping to identify the cause of my rare disease.

February 29 is Rare Disease Day; the day on which those who have, or who advocate for those who have, a rare disease publicly discuss what it is like to live with an unusual illness, raise awareness about our particular set of challenges, and talk about solutions for them.

I have hypokalemic periodic paralysis, which is a neuromuscular disease; a channelopathy that manifests itself as episodes of low blood potassium in response to known triggers (such as sodium, carbohydrates, heat, and illness) that force potassium from the blood into muscle cells, where it remains trapped due to faulty ion channels.  These hypokalemic episodes cause muscle weakness (ranging from mild to total muscular paralysis), heart arrhythmias, difficulty breathing or swallowing and nausea.  The symptoms may last only briefly or muscle weakness may last for weeks, or months, or, in some cases, become permanent.

I first became ill, as is typical of HKPP, at puberty.  It was around Christmas of my seventh grade year, and I remember thinking to myself that it would be the last Christmas that I would ever see.  That thought, and the physical feelings that induced it, were unbelievably terrifying for a child.  I had no idea what was happening; only that it was hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to walk far, and that my heart skipped and flopped all throughout the day.  All I knew was that it felt like something terrible was wrong.

Throughout my high school years I continued to suffer. I had numerous episodes of heart arrhythmia that lasted for many hours, that I now know should've been treated in the emergency department, and that made me feel as if I was going to die soon; it is unsettling for the usually steady, reliable metronome of the heart to suddenly beat chaotically. But bound within the privacy teenagers are known for, my parents struggled to make sense of my new phobic avoidance of exercise and other activities as I was reluctant to talk about what was happening in my body.

HKPP is a genetic disease and causal variants have been found in three different ion channel genes.  Although my DNA has been tested, the cause of my particular variant of the disease has not yet been found.  I want my mutation to be identified.  Knowing it would likely not improve my treatment or daily life in any applicable way.  I'm not sure it would even quell any real curiosity on my part, since, despite having the parents I have, it probably wouldn't mean all that much to this non-scientist.  

But I want to know, because genetics has become the gold standard of diagnostics.  Whether it should be or not, a genetic diagnosis is considered to be the hard-wired, undeniable truth.  I want that proof in my hand to give to physicians for the rest of my life.  And of course, I would also like to contribute to the body of knowledge about HKPP in the hopes that future generations of us will not have to struggle with the unknown for so many years.

For many people, having a rare disease means having lived through years of confusion, terrible illness, misdiagnoses, and the pressure to try to convince skeptical or detached physicians to engage in investigating their suffering.

I was sick for all of my adolescent and young adult years; so sick that I neared the edge of what was bearable.  The years of undiagnosed, untreated chaos in my body created irrevocable changes in how I viewed myself and my life.  It changed my psychology, induced serious anxiety and phobias, and was the backdrop to every single detail of every day of my life.  And yet, it wasn't until I was 24 years old that I got my first clinical clues of what was wrong.  An emergency room for arrhythmia visit revealed very low blood potassium.  Still, for 4 more years I remained undiagnosed, and there was horrible suffering during which my loved ones had to take care of me like a near-infant, accompanying me to the hospital, watching me vomit, struggle to eat or walk to the bathroom, and waking up at 3am to take care of me.  For 4 more years I begged my primary physician and countless ER doctors during desperate visits to investigate what was going wrong, asked them to believe that anxiety was a symptom not a cause, and scoured medical information myself, until I was diagnosed.  It wasn't until I was 28 that I found a doctor who listened to me when I told him what I thought I had, made sense of my symptoms, recognized the beast within me, and began to treat me.

My existence, while still stained to a degree every day by my illness, has improved so immeasurably since being treated properly that the idea of returning to the uncontrolled, nearly unbearable sickness I once lived with frightens me very much.  I fear having to convince physicians of what I know of my body again.

What I went through isn't all that uncommon among the millions of us with a rare disease.  Lengthy periods of misdiagnoses, lack of diagnoses, begging well-meaning but stumped, disbelieving, or truly apathetic physicians to listen to us are common themes.  These lost years lay waste to plans, make decisions for us about parenthood, careers, and even whether we can brush our own teeth.  They induce mistrust, anxiety, exhaustion.

Each rare disease is, of course, by definition rare.  But having a rare disease isn't. Something like 10% of us has one.  It shouldn't be a frightening, frustrating, lengthy ordeal to find a physician willing to consider that what a patient is suffering from may be outside of the ordinary since it isn't all that unlikely at all.  Mathematically, it only makes sense for doctors to keep their eye out for the unusual.

I hope that one day the messages we spread on Rare Disease Day will have swept through our public consciousness enough that they will penetrate the medical establishment.  Until then, I will continue to crave the irrefutable proof of my disorder.  I will continue to worry about someday lying in a hospital bed, weak and verging on intolerably sick, trying to convince a doctor that I know what my body needs, a fear I am certain many of my fellow medically-extraordinary peers share.

And that is why I, this child of skeptics, seek answers, hope and proof through genetics.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning had a rare disease

In the spring of 2011, Ken and I took a bit of a pilgrimage to England. We were moved by following Darwin's footsteps in Malvern, as we described here, and even to see the gravesite of his beloved daughter Annie, but the real goal of that trip was to find several of the places that were important to the Victorian poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning when she was young.  Barrett Browning was ill for most of her life, with a disease that her doctors were unable to diagnose during her lifetime, and which medical historians have been unable to definitively diagnose since. However, while reading her letters to Robert Browning, and much more of her writing, because our family has been touched by the same rare disease, it dawned on us that we knew what she had. We have blogged about this a few times but it seems fitting to re-publish that post today because it's Rare Disease Day 2016, a day established by a number of rare disease alliances and organizations around the world to raise awareness of the impact of rare diseases on patients' lives.  

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Born in 1806, Barrett Browning lived at Hope End in Malvern from age 3 to 25. Her father made his money by managing sugar plantations in Jamaica, and he had plenty of it. He built a very large house on a 200 or so acre estate near the Malvern Hills, and brought his growing family to live there in 1809. Eccentric this house was by all accounts, with Turkish minarets and other such out-of-place characteristics, but EBB loved it. As a child she rode her pony through the woods, and down the lanes that stretched to Ledbury and Great Malvern, and beyond. She and her beloved brother Edward spent many many happy hours running up and down the hills behind the house, until at age 12 or so her aunt scolded her for playing too rough. 



But, when Elizabeth reached puberty she experienced the first extended episode of an illness from which she suffered all her life, but that her doctors never were able to diagnose, to their and EBB's great frustration -- and her readers and EBB scholars have tried to puzzle it out ever since.

Apocryphally, it was said that she fell from her horse at age 15 and injured her spine, but she always insisted that that had nothing to do with her illness. Recent scholars have suggested that she had anorexia, or TB, neurasthenia, pertussis, an encephalomyelitis, non-paralytic poliomyelitis, paralytic scoliosis, or opium addiction or a mental illness including anxiety and agoraphobia. At least one biographer has suggested that ‘escape into illness’ was her way of dealing with the frustration of being an intelligent woman in Victorian England or a reaction to the exceptional sternness of her widowed, religiously strict father. She was also described simply as a malingerer. She was sent to a spa in Gloucester for a year during her teens, to recover, and she was better at some times than others, but she was never truly well for any length of time again.

While we will never know for certain, I think that she may have been suffering from a rare and elusive muscle disease called hypokalemic periodic paralysis (HKPP). It's an ion channel disorder, marked by a deficit of potassium, and involving episodes of weakness or frank paralysis with numerous triggers including heat, cold, exercise, rest after exercise, carbohydrates, salt, temperature change, and change of seasons. Causative mutations have been identified in three ion channel genes, but they explain only a minority of cases. And the disorder can run in families or it can be sporadic. And, age of onset at puberty is classic.

I've published an article suggesting this diagnosis, and because I've been thinking about this woman and her illness for so long we decided to go see the place of her childhood home, where she was so happy, as well as a place where she was exceedingly unhappy. (The home Barrett Browning's father built was torn down by the next owner of the estate, and replaced by a home that burned at the beginning of the 20th century. The picture here is the house that now stands on the site.) 


EBB's father lost much of his fortune when she was 25, and so he sold her beloved Hope End and moved the family to London. Elizabeth was particularly unwell during the move, suffering from weakness and palpitations of the heart, her usual symptoms, and as usual her doctors had no idea how to treat her. They had started her on opium in her teens, and she took it the rest of her life, and they now started her on Digitalis for her heart. Unfortunately this drug made her weak.

Her doctors recommended that she leave London not long after the move, which was not good for her health, so her father sent her to the seaside to recuperate. She spent three years in the Hotel Regina in Torquay, on the coast of Devon, where she suffered the most devastating heartbreak of her life when her brother, Edward, was drowned in a sailing accident.
Hotel Regina, Torquay, Devon

She was desperate to leave Torquay after the accident, but too unwell. Her doctors cautioned the trip would surely kill her. She eventually decided that she would bear the consequences and traveled back to London, where she spent more years in her room at 50 Wimpole St, not leaving the house, and often not even well enough to leave her couch. 

But she continued to write and publish poetry, which came to the notice of the poet Robert Browning. He wrote to her, and eventually prevailed upon her to allow him to visit her. They quickly fell in love, as detailed in the beautiful and deeply emotional letters they sent to each other throughout 1845 and 6. But Elizabeth's father wouldn't allow any of his children to marry, and Elizabeth herself told Robert she didn't want to burden him with an invalid. But when EBB's father announced that he was moving the family to the country for a month, they realized they couldn't bear to be parted, so they married in secret and ran away to Italy where they lived until Elizabeth died, in 1861.

Elizabeth was much healthier and happier in Italy than she had been since she fell ill. She had spent years in her room, writing poetry, many many letters, and expecting to die. But she was never truly healthy, and she often wrote of her illness in her letters. It's in these letters, and the diary that she kept at age 25, that I found the clues to her disorder.

For example, Elizabeth wrote from Torquay to a friend:
…the last ten days have been dreary, uncomfortable ones to me, haunted throughout by weakness, an oppressive sense of weakness, and a lowness of spirits from which I am generally free. Such lowness of spirits, that I could have cried all day if there were no exertion in crying… This was the result of taking digitalis for three weeks instead of one… [She was aware that digitalis caused weakness, though it did calm her heart.] 
And weeks later she wrote to the same friend:
I wanted to write to you very very soon in reply to your last welcome note. I wanted to say to you very soon some words which it suggested. But I have been exceedingly unwell—confined to my bed nearly a week by a sudden return of bad symptoms and so weak since as scarcely to bear without fainting even the passive fatigue of being carried from this bed to the sofa down stairs, by all the gentleness of my brother’s love for me. The prevalency of the east wind and sudden coldness of weather connected with it, are considered the causes of the attack.
And so on. But, many others have read these same documents and none has reached the same diagnosis as mine. The explanation for this is easy -- HKPP is rare, and the diagnosis is frequently missed even today, but we've got the disorder in our family, so I read EBB's words through a lens not shared by most readers, that of knowing the nature of the disease, and the profound and disabling weakness it can cause. I should add that two neurologists and two cell biologists agree with my diagnosis. It's pretty obvious when you know what you're looking for.

This has been a fascinating exercise, and not in small part because it is a stark reminder that we can only see what we are prepared to see. EBB scholars, who know much much more about the poet than I, haven't deciphered what has jumped out of the page at me because they don't know HKPP.

This is a sleuthing quest for me, but it's relevant to MT, because it is a combination of attempts to infer biological causation by combining circumstantial, informal evidence from the past with modern science. In the case of HKPP, several ion-channel genes are known, a couple of which appear to be causal for HKPP. But as with so many traits, most cases do not manifest changes in these genes, phenotypes are highly variable, so that even the name (HKPP) masks complexity.

In this case, retro-sleuthing is not about evolutionary fitness or long-term evolution, but even with direct first-person evidence, causal inference is a serious challenge. Any conclusions about specific past incidences, as in EBB's case, are conjectural -- and will remain so even if modern genetic methods identify the basis of most cases. But even then, inferring fitness effects, and hence the effects of evolution on the relevant genes, is problematic-squared: even the persistently ill EBB bore a child.

As with many attempts to delve into the biological past, however, the delving is what makes it interesting.

Yetişemiyorum !!!




 Öncelikle çalışıpta  her işe ,eve  , çocuğa, yemeğe  , kocaya ,arkadaşlara ve bloğa yetişen biri varsa  önünde aynen aşağıdaki gibi duruyorum:)) bunların çoğu da yok sadece  iş , ev,  yemek uyku... 





Ben tembelim sanırım yetişemiyorum  :(

Sevgili, Blogger arkadaşımız Sevdican tık tık Çok güzel sorular sormuş hemen yanıtladım:)

 1- Yakın çevrenizdeki insanlara  blogunuzdan söz ediyormusunuz?

 Saklamıyorum  ,bir blogum var da demiyorum  . Geçen yıl başıma trajik komik bir olay geldi  samimi arkadaşlarımdan biri  yazılarımdan birini   fece hesabında kendi yazısı gibi paylaştı çok beğeni aldı  , ertesi gün   vaoov dedim senmi yazdın bunu , evet dedi    gülümsedim ,tamam kanka     siyah kuğuyamı  verdin yazını dedim gülmeye başladı sende mi okudun o kızı dedi :)  bizzat yazarıyla  müşerref sin  öp kızım elimi dedim  :))  hala o  espiri devam eder aramızda , öp kızım elimi:))

2- Neden blog yazıyorsun?

 Seviyorum yazarak anlatabiliyorum kendimi  ,  amacım sadece yazmak  çok fazla gözlemciyim  gördüklerimi anladığım şekliyle  kendi algılama şeklime göre yazarak başka ben gibi düşünen insanlara ulaşıyorum.
bazı insanlar kekemedir  ama mükemmel şarkı söyler ya işte bende konuşurken çekinirim ne diyeceğimi şaşırım  karşımdakini kıracağım ,üzeceğim diye  duraksarım   helede biri o an bana laf söyler  ona bir laf bulamamda yarım saat sonra  aklıma gelir ya deli olurum yüzüne söyleyemedikten sonra ne faydası var :(
  burası benim gizli mabedim, saklı cennetim. 

 3-İlk yazdığınız yazı ile son yazdığınız yazı arasında ne farklar var?

  Noktalama ve virgüllere daha dikkat ediyorum ,bazen uyarılar geliyor   burada da ve de konusunda ayrı yaz şunu kuğu diye  bir onu dinledim :)  kendime özgü yazmayı seviyorum  bir resim görmüştüm yıllar önce üzerinde  bilkisevdiseni yazıyordu  ve biri yorum yapmış bayana   bitişik yazmamalıydın diye bayanın cevabı    yazar öyle yazmış saygı duydum ben onu öylede anladım  benim  için bir çok şey anlatıyordu bu  demekki biri sevecekse o yazıyı     öylede sever  sevmeyeceksede siz mükemmelde olsanız kusur bulur....


4-Blog yazmak normal yaşantınıza neler kattı?

Aslında o kadar çok kişiyi kattı ki şu an isimlerini saymaya kalksam ki baştan yazmıştım silmek zorunda kaldım  liste çok uzayacak ve unuttuğum biri kalırsa gücenecek  diye:)
 Bir iş yaparken bile önce bloglarda arıyorum yapanların  tecrübelerini  okuyorum. 
 Bir çok bilgiyi yaşanmışlığıyla öğreniyorum, aynı olay benim  yada yakınımın başına geldiğinde  ah ben bunu bir bloggerde okumuştum deyip girip araştırıyorum  ,çok faydası oluyor. onun dışında gerçekten çok iyi dostluklarım var...

5- Yakın arkadaşlarınıza blog yazmayı önerir misiniz?

 Öneririm , ama o zaman facede  ,instagramda kim gezecek :)))

 6- Hangi kaynaklardan İlham alıyorsunuz?

Yaradan'dan en büyük ilham kaynağım insan olmak ,her şeyden her yerden ,bir tükürükten bile ilham alabilirim, mesela ''senn gözlerimim ışığı kalbimiin en büyük aşığı  bitmez gecelerim, tükenmeyen hecelerim  ...'' bu yolda ağlayan ve onu tersleyen anneden aldığım ilahmla yazılmıştı anne onu azarlarken çekelerken bile   gözlerinden okunuyordu annenin sevgisi..

7- Blog sahipleri ile iyi iletişim kuruyor musun?

 Ben kurduğumu düşünüyorum  tabii birde onlara sormak gerekir:))

 8- rahatsız olduğun konular var mı?

  Yazarken biraz  boynum ağrıyor :))   boyun fıtığımdan dolayı yazmak yasak güyaa:))
   Bloglarda rahatsız olduğum bir konu yok  ben hep beni rahat ettiren mutlu eden blogları okuyorum. cansınız can  kuğucanlarım:)))) 


 Tuğba Doğan tık tık    mimlemiş  kısacık bir mim :)

O zaman başlayalım ! Sen Kotorin hakkında ne düşünüyorsun ?:) 

  seviyorum :)







 Vee  etkinliğim devam ediyor  sevimli hayvan dostlarımız için bir kap su bir kap yemek  ,  onlar için düzenlediğim çekiliş 1 Mart'ta bitecek  etkinliğim bitmeyecek.

    Onlar  doğanın dengesini sağlıyor olamasalar otlar büyür  her yer yılan çiyan dolar sinek haşere fare  gibi zararlı hayvanlardan korunmamızı sağlıyorlar .
 Onlar değilmi hepimizin çocukluğunda sarılıp uyuduğu , çocuklarımızın yanına koyduğumuz  oyuncakları tasarlayanlara ilham veren  ,hangimizin yoktu bir ayıcığı yada tavşanı... 
 Evinizde baktığınız hayvanlarınızın resmini  yayınlamamızı istiyorsanız , onlarla alakalı öykülerinizi de  mail atabilirsiniz .

 One.black.svvan@gmail.com 
 sizi sevimli dostlarımızla baş başa bırakıyorum sevgiler...






   
















































































































İç Ses - 22

Bir saat altmış dakika.
Bir gün yirmi dört saat.
Bir hafta yedi gün.
Basit bir hesapla bir haftanın kaç gün, kaç saat, kaç dakika hepsini hesaplayabiliriz.  Ama işte bütün marazlar hesaplayamadıklarımızdan doğuyor. Aklın ikna olmadığı, ruhun tamamlayamadığı her eksiği renge, notaya, görüntüye, kelimeye dökmeye çalışmamız bundan. Hayatın hızına yetişmek için içindeki binlerce rakamla bize yardımcı olan aletlerimizin acının hızına yetişememesinden hala yazmaya, çizmeye, söylemeye ihtiyacımız olması.   Mutsuzluğun  bile hafif kaldığı  bir çağ düştü bizim kısmetimize.
Mutsuzluk acıya döneli çok oldu.
Kapkara, keskin bir acı …
Üstelik acı karşısında uyuştuk, bir başkasının bütün ömrüne yetecek derinlikte acılardan geçiyoruz her gün.
 Umut ederek uyanılan bir sabah mesela, bazen daha ilk anından bazen tam ortasında kapkara bir haberin ağırlığıyla eziliyor. Umut etmeye ne hal kalıyor,ne umuda güzellemeler yapılacak takat.
 Bir hafta daha bitti.Yedi ayrı gün, yedi ayrı  ruh, tek bir beden.
 Bir haftanın içine yedi gün, yüz altmış sekiz saat sığdı.
 Bir hafta daha bitti işte.
 Hesaplanabilir tarafının bir çırpıda yazıldığı, ama işte asıl meselenin rakamlarla açıklayamadığımız yanında kaldığı yedi gün.




Bizim Hikayemiz # 3 #


 Karmakarışık

 Hüsniye ile her gün iş çıkışı görüşmeye başladık oda   bize yakın bir yerde hukuk bürosunda sekreter olarak çalışıyor, babası ve annesi çok tatlı insanlar  buda ona yansımış neşeli sevimli bir ara yalnız yaşamayı denemiş beceremeyip geri dönmüş  ailesinin yanına, aslında  Orhan'la rahat vakit geçirmek içinmiş bütün amaç , tabi Orhan onu   terkedince hayalleri  hayalden öteye geçememiş .

 Orhan onu  hiç biri sebebi yokken   terketmiş , tıpkı ben gibi oda evlilik hayalleri kuruyormuş tüm parasını çeyize yatırıyormuş iki yıldır  erkek arkadaşı ne dediyse   vahiy inmiş gibi dinlemiş sevmiş çok sevmiş ama adam onu sevmemiş anlaşılan...

 Kader arkadaşı olmuştuk birden ,  sık sık görüşüyor dertleşiyor    bizi terk eden sevgililerimize  barışmaları için attığımız mesajları aramalarımız gösterip  dertleşiyorduk. Günler günleri kovaladı ve üç ay geçti ne benim aşkım ne onun aşkı geri dönmek bilmiyordu üstüne üstelik ben savcılığa verildim hemde  biricik aşkım tarafından sebebi de neymiş rahatsız ediyormuşum, can güvenliğinden  endişe ediyormuş!
 Ben ona tapıyorum nasıl zarar verebilirim ki...
 Neymiş gündeyüz mesajmı atılırmış ,içinde tehditler varmış abartıı...
  Bir akşam iş dönüşü  her zaman rutin oynadığım sayısalıma bakınca  gözlerime inanamadım, şansım geri dönmüştü   sayısal kuponum tutmuştu. Soluğu Hüsniyenin  kapısında aldım, arabamdan inmeden   mesaj attım  saniyeler içinde aşağı indi ve biz dün  iki yabancıyken şimdi sarılıyorduk. Kısa bir şaşkınlıktan sonra ,hadi yemeğe gidiyoruz diyerek  arabamı çalıştırdım.  Hüsniye gülmeye başladı  ,'' böyle mi gidiyoruz ? üzerime bak polar pijama örgülü saç ponponlu pembe hırka, evettt böyle biz zenginiz   vintage  , vintage yürü hadii ...

 Vintage zenginlerin uydurması sanıyordum deyip gülümseyerek  annesini aradı  , annesi anında cama çıkıp bana   sert ama  gülümseyerek  geç kalmayın  , dedi   tabi  pijamalarla  gitmemesi için ikna etmeye çalıştığı süre gidip değişseydi daha az zaman kaybımız olurdu . 
Şehrin en lüks lokantasında Hüsniye ve ben yemek yiyorduk üstelik   Hüsniye çok tatlı ve doğaldı çevredekilerin tuhaf bakışlarını umursamıyorduk bir süre sonra kimse umursamadı zaten .

 Pijamalı kedi diye dalga geçmeye başladığımda yanakları pespembe kesilmişti .Yemekte uzun ,uzun sohbet ettik bu para ikimizin dedim şaşırdı  ''neden ki '' dedi ,  nedenini bilmiyorum senden başka kimsem yok belki ondandır , gülümsedi .

Ben kendi payım için planlarımı anlattım  ,gülümsemeyi , kahkahaya bıraktı .  İcra ve dost'a kefil olup mağdur olan tüm mahkumları en azından paramın yettiğini çıkarıp  onlarla  bir şirket kuracağımı  söyledim çok şaşırdı . tamam o zamana bende kendi payımla Orhan ve Deryayı kaçırıp bizi sevmelerini sağlayacağım ! bir an panik oldum bu bir suç Hüsniye ve sen  melek gibi bir kızsın bunu yapamayız, evet yaparız dedi ..

Doğu ve Karadeniz 2



   Eveeettt en son Erzurum'u hak etmiş, Kars yollarına düşmüştük. 

  Efendim Kars bildiğiniz doğu şehirlerine pek benzemiyor. Vakti zamanında Ruslar şehre dadandığından evler, binalar o kültürün mimarisini taşıyor. 
  Arkadaşlar pek sevmese de ben sevdim. Evet biraz sert ve soğuk görünebilir ama en azından bir tarzı var. Kararmış, oymalı yapılar... 
 Hava da yağmurlu olunca Piyanist filminin setine dönmüştü bizim Kars. 

  Her yer peynirci herrr yer! Benim gibi peynire aşık olanlar mutlaka gitmeli. Sülalelik koca bir teker kaşar aldık. Gravyer peynirini de ilk kez orda tattım (Pek sevmedim gerçi). 

  Tabi meşhur piti yemeği var. Nohutlu, zerdeçallı, koyun etli, içine lavaş doğranıp yenen bir yemek. Çok beğendim. (Diğerleri bunu da beğenmedi, arkadaşların nüfusu Paris'e kayıtlı da). 

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 Bir gece konaklama, sonra ver elini Ardahan. Küçük bir şehir. Hiç arabadan inmeden dolaşıp bitirdik Ardahan'ı. 

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   Artvin'e doğru yola koyulduk. Dağları aştık desem yeridir. Yüksek yerlerde mayıs ayında -3 dereceyi, karı, fırtınayı gördük. Korkutucu ama güzeldi.





   En ücra köşelerde bile bir hayat kurmuş insanlar, tefekkürlük... Artvin'e girerken madenler karşılıyor sizi. 
 Yüksekçe bir yerden gittikçe alçalan yollarla şehre vardık ve Karadeniz fıkrası karşıladı bizi. Kaleler şehrin tepesinde olur ya hani. Artvin'de şehir tepede kale aşağıda. Ay çok güldüm! 
Çarşıya resmen yokuşlardan çıkıyorsunuz. 
Artvin dönüşü alabalık tesisi ve gürül gürül deresi olan Borçka'da mola.


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    Rize'ye doğru yola koyuluyoruz şimdi de. İkinci gidişimdi.
   Yamaçlarda sıralı çay tarlaları, kalesinde Turkish coffee keyfi, shopping time of kavurma, pide molası ve çookkk lezzetli fındıklı, kadayıflı Turbo tatlısı. (Ya o güzelim şeye niye bu adı verdiniz be gülüm)
  Evet kabul ediyorum biraz şehir turu, biraz boğaz turu oldu bizimki. 







   Meşhur Ayder Yaylası'na gitmek bu sefer nasipmiş.
 Büyük değil ama çamların, yeşillerin bağrındasınız. Ferahlık, freshlik, serinlik, temizlik... Ne ararsanız! 

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   Trabzon ise birkaçıncı gidişim olan dolu dolu bir şehir. 
  Önceki gidişlerimden hatıra olan Sultan Murat yayla gezisi var. 
 Siz hiç bulutların üstüne çıktınız mı? Uçakla değil, canlı canlı, rüzgarı yüzünüzde hissederek? İnanılmaz bir tecrübe! Bakın... 



  Uzun Göl elbette ki özel bir yer ancak etrafını betonla çevirdikleri ve otelle doldurdukları için, tablolardaki o eski doğal halini bulamadım. 

  Sümela Manastırı da mutlaka görülmesi gereken yerlerden. Nasıl mistik bir havası var öyle! 
   Ben toprak, çamur, rutubet kokularını çok severim. (Kulağa absürd geldiğini biliyorum ama öyle, arada ıslak toprak yemişliğim de var. Kokusu tadından daha güzel. Neyse. Kınama bak başına gelir).
   Bu rutubetlik, vıcıklık içinde mutlu mesut manastıra tırmandım. Harika görüntüler eşliğinde.
   Aşk ile buyrun.




  




  Önceki gidişimden bildiğim için bu defa manastırın içine girmedim. Ama yolculuğu da pek güzel idi. 

   Hani demiştim ya biraz boğaz turu diye. Bu sefer Hamsiköy'ün meşhur sütlacını tatmak için yola düştük. 
   Değdi mi? Değmez mi anacım değmez mi! Güveçte, üstü bol kavrulmuş fındıklı, tam kıvamında sütlaç... (Ay ben bir su içeyim fena oldum).

   Dönüş yolunda Akçaabat köftesi molası. Evet bu da çok güzel ama benim favorim hâlâ Bursa civarındaki meşhur Köfteci Cozef! 

Kaldı 4 şehir...
Devamı gelecek inşallah.

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  Bu arada ecnebi takipçiler için sağ üste Google translate koydum ama çeviri yapınca cümlenin başı sonu ayrı telden çalıyor. Yani pek güvenmeyin derim. (Lakin Azerice çeviriye çok güldüm) 
   Blogu anlamak için en garanti yol Türkçe öğrenin. Olmadı bir Türk arkadaş bulun o anlatsın.
 Yeter ki mahrum kalmayın, üzülürüm sonra. 

Burada hepimize yer var azizim ♥

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Running and neurogenesis; the plastic brain

A new paper online in the Journal of Physiology ("Physical exercise increases adult hippocampal neurogenesis in male rats provided it is aerobic and sustained," Nokia et al.), and described here by the NYT, reports that running is good for the brain.  At least the rat brain.

From the paper (emphasis mine):
Adult hippocampal neurogenesis (AHN) is a continuous process through which cells proliferate in the subgranular zone of the dentate gyrus, mature into granule cells, and ultimately become incorporated into hippocampal neuronal networks. In rodents, adult-born hippocampal neurons seem crucial for a variety of adaptive behaviors such as learning, pattern separation, and responses to stress. Aerobic exercise, e.g. running, increases AHN and improves cognitive performance in both male and female adult rodents. The increase in AHN in response to running is reported to be in part due to an increase in the number of surviving neuronal precursor cells (type 2) rather than to the shortening of the cell cycle. There are also studies indicating that running increases the survival and incorporation of newly divided hippocampal cells, born days before commencing training, to increase net neurogenesis. [See the paper for citations for reported findings, which I've removed here for length.]
It has already been well-established that aerobic exercise is associated with an increase in adult hipocampal neurogenesis, the number of neurons in the hippocampus, the region of the brain associated with producing long-term memory among other functions.  But, Nokia et al. wondered if it was only aerobic exercise, or whether other kinds of exercise have the same effect.

So they compared the number of neuronal cells of mice subjected to high-intensity interval training, resistance training and distance running.  They found no increase in the rats who did resistance training compared to sedentary rats, and a smaller than expected increase in rats that did the interval training.  It was only in the brains of the rats who did aerobic exercise that neurogenesis was significantly increased.  The authors hypothesize that this is because running stimulates the production of  brain-derived neurotrophic factor and insulin-like growth factor, which are associated with neurogenesis. The more aerobic exercise the animal does, the more of these the animal produces, and thus the more neurons.

Currently the best advice for preventing dementia in old age is to maintain a social life, quit smoking, and exercise.  And, if this rat study can be applied to humans, this should at least qualify that as aerobic exercise; running or biking, say.  As with all such lifestyle advice, this surely won't work for everyone, but the evidence is increasingly in its favor, at least on a population basis.

But there are deeper implications of this work, I think.  If exercise changes the architecture of the brain in ways that can affect learning, even in adults, and, as has been repeatedly demonstrated, stimulating children by reading to them, using lots of words, playing music to them, and so on, or the reverse, growing up in poverty,  or with disease, or amid famine all can affect brain architecture and thus cognitive ability for better or for worse, why do so many continue to privilege genes and genes alone -- or even more, a single gene -- for the creation of intelligence?



Source: "Effects on brain development leading to cognitive impairment:  A worldwide epidemic," Olness,
Journal of Developmental & Behavioral Pediatrics:
April 2003 - Volume 24 - Issue 2 - pp 120-130

It seems that the brain responds to experience at all ages, but it's possible that there's a 'sensitive period' for cognition.  As just one example, the cognitive abilities of children reared in institutions in Bucharest were compared to that of children never placed in an institution to those whose lives began there but who moved to foster care before age two.  Those who were reared entirely in institutions had much lower cognitive ability than the other two groups; the cognitive abilities of those who were moved to foster care before age two significantly improved.  The authors of this study suggest that there may be a sensitive period for developing cognitive ability, just as there is one for learning language, and many other aspects of brain function.

Of course, as with any trait, genes play a crucial role in the development of the brain.  But they don't do it alone.  E.g., a 2010 paper in Child Development describes the genetic underpinnings of the developing brain, but its plasticity as well.
The foundations of brain architecture are established early in life through a continuous series of dynamic interactions between genetic influences and environmental conditions and experiences (Friederici, 2006; Grossman, 2003; Hensch, 2005; Horn, 2004; Katz & Shatz, 1996; Majdan & Shatz, 2006; Singer, 1995). There is increasing evidence that environmental factors play a crucial role in coordinating the timing and pattern of gene expression, which in turn determines initial brain architecture. Because specific experiences potentiate or inhibit neural connectivity at key developmental stages, these time points are referred to as sensitive periods (Hess, 1973; Knudsen, 2004). Each one of our perceptual, cognitive, and emotional capabilities is built upon the scaffolding provided by early life experiences. Examples can be found in both the visual and auditory systems, where the foundation for later cognitive architecture is laid down during sensitive periods for basic neural circuitry.  
Genetic determinists might acknowledge the plasticity of the brain but then say that how the brain responds to experience is what's genetically determined, and thus that there are children who just aren't genetically equipped to be the next Einstein, or even to learn calculus.  We know this is true at least at one extreme of the distribution of intelligence, because there are many alleles known to be associated with low cognitive ability.  These usually cause syndromic conditions, however, so aren't related only to how quickly synapses are crossed, or memories made, or whatever it is that underlies -- or defines -- intelligence.  As with many other trait distributions, what happens at the extremes doesn't necessarily represent what's going on in the middle, so I think the jury is still out as to the overriding importance of single or even a small number of alleles in the development of normal or above normal intelligence (again, whatever that is -- for the moment, let's call it the ability to score well on IQ tests).  And indeed no genes with large effects on intelligence have yet been identified, despite decades of looking.  That has so far included comparison of the tails of the distribution among individuals without a clear-cut pathology.

So, of course there are genes involved in how quickly people think, or make connections between ideas, or memorize, or invent things, or remember -- how people learn.  But it's not either mainly genes or environment.  It's both, interacting, and molding the reactive brain.  There is enough evidence now to show that the brain is a hungry organ, soaking up and responding to experience at all times, throughout life.  Whether or not we believe that society should be investing in optimizing the environment of every child to maximize their potential is a social and political decision, not a scientific one.

Rare Disease Day and the promises of personalized medicine

O ur daughter Ellen wrote the post that I republish below 3 years ago, and we've reposted it in commemoration of Rare Disease Day, Febru...