Digressions&Impressions

Seneca's Last Gasps; meditating joyful and brave thoughts (Letter 54)

1. My ill-health had allowed me a long furlough, when suddenly it resumed the attack. "What kind of ill-health?" you say. And you surely have a right to ask; for it is true that no kind is unknown to me. But I have been consigned, so to speak, to one special ailment. I do not know why I should call it by its Greek name; for it is well enough described as "shortness of breath." Its attack is of very brief duration, like that of a squall at sea; it usually ends within an hour. Who indeed could breathe his last for long? 2. I have passed through all the ills and dangers of the flesh; but nothing seems to me more troublesome than this. And naturally so; for anything else may be called illness; but this is a sort of continued "last gasp." Hence physicians call it "practising how to die." For some day the breath will succeed in doing what it has so often essayed. 3. Do you think I am writing this letter in a merry spirit, just because I have escaped? It would be absurd to take delight in such supposed restoration to health, as it would be for a defendant to imagine that he had won his case when he had succeeded in postponing his trial. Yet in the midst of my difficult breathing I never ceased to rest secure in cheerful and brave thoughts.

4. "What?" I say to myself; "does death so often test me? Let it do so; I myself have for a long time tested death." "When?" you ask. Before I was born. Death is non-existence, and I know already what that means. What was before me will happen again after me. If there is any suffering in this state, there must have been such suffering also in the past, before we entered the light of day. As a matter of fact, however, we felt no discomfort then. 5. And I ask you, would you not say that one was the greatest of fools who believed that a lamp was worse off when it was extinguished than before it was lighted? We mortals also are lighted and extinguished; the period of suffering comes in between, but on either side there is a deep peace. For, unless I am very much mistaken, my dear Lucilius, we go astray in thinking that death only follows, when in reality it has both preceded us and will in turn follow us. Whatever condition existed before our birth, is death. For what does it matter whether you do not begin at all, or whether you leave off, inasmuch as the result of both these states is non-existence?

6. I have never ceased to exhort myself with counsels of this kind, silently, of course, since I had not the power to speak; then little by little this shortness of breath, already reduced to a sort of panting, came on at greater intervals, and then slowed down and finally stopped. Even by this time, although the gasping has ceased, the breath does not come and go normally; I still feel a sort of hesitation and delay in breathing. Let it be as it pleases, provided there be no sigh from the soul.7. Accept this assurance from me: I shall never be frightened when the last hour comes; I am already prepared and do not plan a whole day ahead. But do you praise and imitate the man whom it does not irk to die, though he takes pleasure in living. For what virtue is there in going away when you are thrust out? And yet there is virtue even in this: I am indeed thrust out, but it is as if I were going away willingly. For that reason the wise man can never be thrust out, because that would mean removal from a place which he was unwilling to leave; and the wise man does nothing unwillingly. He escapes necessity, because he wills to do what necessity is about to force upon him. Farewell.--Seneca Letter 54 Translated by Richard M. Gummere (with minor changes)

After many long letters, Seneca returns to brevity with a letter that becomes poignant in light of his own end. For a few years after Seneca wrote this, Nero sentenced him to suicide. And it is not clear that by obeying the sentence, Seneca really wills it himself and so escapes necessity. Compare the contrast with a case in which Nero had sentenced him to die, and that in order to escape the mad emperor's henchmen, Seneca had committed suicide. In the latter case, Seneca can be said to escape necessity in virtue of his own actions. Perhaps there is no real distinction here.

Seneca has set the stage for being remembered for his fearless (and dramatic) death.  If you deny that he could anticipate the future, it is worth noting that in this letter the plane of necessity and death are treated in temporal symmetric fashion. Either way, it is not clear to me why Seneca returns to this theme which he had discussed more fully in (recall) letter 24 (among other places).

When I was a teenager, I was diagnosed with exercise asthma. But once diagnosed, it's been mostly under control except once: in the aftermath of my TIA (recall) in the Summer of 2013, my lung capacity collapsed mysteriously. My asthma medicine was changed, and since then it seems to have no impact on my life and not preventing a fairly active life-style. This last fact seems to disappoint the medical types which have attended to me in the aftermath of covid. (For my "covid diaries," see here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here; here, here; here; here; and here.) For, somehow they are all way more confident they can treat lungs than the spooky, cognitive problems I am dealing with.

I had classmates with debilitating asthma, and once (recall) nearly drowned as a kid, so I can imagine without great effort that an asthma attack could be a kind of practice in the what it's like of a last gasp. Seneca is explicit that physicians call the experience "meditating on how to die" [medici hanc 'meditationem mortis' vocant]. It's hard here not to think of those who claimed that philosophy is a meditation on death "Philosophiam esse meditationem Mortis"), which is often (but not always) associated with Socrates (Phaedo 64A). For a brief moment it looks like we have landed in the competition in the authoritative art of living between medicine and philosophy familiar from, say, the Symposium (including its comedy.)

But Seneca refuses the comic note, and he makes clear there is no competition but rather parallelism between art and philosophy. For, during his asthma attacks he practices another kind of meditation with silent exhortations [exhortationibus - tacitis scilicet] which seem to slow down the actual asthma attacks. The exhortations involve a kind of reminder to self that life is surrounded by death. 

The one time I have been in the presence of death -- my father's (recall) -- his last breath sounded like a deep snort of exhaustion not a gasping at all. But then again, he really was ready to die. Because his whole childhood had been surrounded by mysterious disappearances (recall), which turned out to be deaths, I wonder if he saw his whole life as a kind of lucky surplus and so made it easier to let go. I regret not asking him.  

Be that as it may, and as it happens, a lot of people familiar with my cognitive challenges since long haul covid has set on are encouraging me to take on meditation. (These are not just new age types, but also physicians and fellow long haulers.) Last week I went to my first public lecture. After twenty minutes I felt the onset of great fatigue. But I decided to stick it out by closing my eyes and pretending as if I was listening to the lecture from afar. I even asked a (modest) question, but half-way through the Q&A I realized I was not going to make it home without collapsing if I would stay longer. So I left. 

And if the medical specialists can't find anything -- this week I have lined up a number of appointments --, I have, in fact, toyed with trying out some of Seneca's exhortations filled with joyful and brave thoughts [cogitationibus laetis ac fortibus]. And if these work, I'll share my secret here, for free and joyfully.

The story starts with a stolen Maupertuis

Actually, the story starts with me buying a copy of Maupertuis' (1738) La figure de la terre at auction online. I am a modest rare book collector; my principle of collecting is 'works that intersect with my scholarly research in neat ways' (all other things being equal, which is not always -- <think of prices> -- the case). So that means that unlike many collectors, I am not always after the first edition of a work and do not mind copies that show sign of some scholarly use (which also means I can afford them more easily). 

Now, my first scholarly projects starting with George Smith were on the Huygens-Newton debate over universal gravity and the shape of the Earth, and the measurements that settled it. Maupertuis' measurements in Lapland -- the title page of the 1738 work prefers 'polar circle' -- were part of the evidence that helped resolve the debate. While others (Maglo, Terrall, Shank, etc.) would publish with more detail on La Figure, I used this work by Maupertuis to make some modest, albeit distinctive claims about the philosophical particulars of Adam Smith's History of Astronomy. 

The pictures of the lot suggested a very clean copy, but one with a modern binding. Much to my surprise the bidding for it remained relatively calm even in the final minutes. And so for under 500€ (generally the most I am willing spend on a rare book) I was the proud owner of a work that is a joy to read, has an interesting story, and that shows up in non-trivial places in my own scholarship. I was elated! The seller sent it off with tracking, and the book arrived after a few days. I had last held a physical copy in my hand over twenty years ago in Chicago (presumably at the Newberry library, but I just noticed there is also a copy in Regenstein so maybe there).  

After opening the package, I opened the book and I had my first modest disappointment. The neat map I remembered at the front of the book was not there. My spirits started to deflate, but after looking through the book I found it at the back. (See here for a picture of the map at Gallica.) Interestingly enough, the copy of the English translation in the British Library, which seems to be one used by Google to scan it also has the map in front, whereas the French version has it in back (but the reproduction is badly done)! So, I wondered if I had misremembered and had only looked at the English translation. More on this below.

However, when I started to look through the book more slowly I had a true shock. There was an impressive library stamp on the page facing the frontispiece with "The Institution of Civil Engineers" and an address at "25 Great George Street, Westminster" in London. (See the picture below this post.) Now, I have bought books at auction before that had impressive library stamps in them. I always do due diligence before I bid and check out the provenance. Usually I find that the book had belonged to a seminary or school library that had closed or merged. Most sellers show a library stamp in the pictures that the seller usually supplies in auction. How could I have missed this?

I went online to check the lot I had bought and to my shock there was no picture of the stamp! I then went online to look for the Institution of Civil Engineers library, and found an impressive website, which suggested the library was flourishing although it had moved a few doors down. I checked the catalogue and it showed a copy of the book I was holding in my hand. At that moment, I realized I had almost certainly a stolen book in my hands (although part of me hoped they had sold off a duplicate).

I knew I had to move quickly, so I immediately wrote the auction house with my suspicion (so that they would keep my payment in escrow). (It was Friday afternoon after hours for the auction house so I knew I would not hear back before Monday at the earliest.) I then contacted the seller/dealer through the auction house message system in France; he responded quickly but in a dismissive fashion. (I return to that below.)

I decided to call the ICE library. The person who picked up the phone was a librarian, Debra Francis. I quickly explained the situation. It turns out the ICE library is supposed to have two French copies of La Figure (one part of a special collection). While we were talking she established one of these copies was missing. I was not surprised, I was holding it! At this point I knew the book had to be returned, but I was not wholly eager to take the loss. So, I gave her my yahoo email address, but little else info about me.

However, it was time to be more assertive with the seller. In our online interactions he revealed that he had bought the book a few months ago at another (reputable) auction house, and that these would have been cautious about provenance. (I was stunned how little he paid!) I decided to call the specialist listed on their website. I explained the situation to him, and after some back and forth he explained that the book was bought through an intermediary as part of a much larger estate of a deceased book-dealer. So, now I knew that my seller was not himself the thief or an accomplice in selling on stolen goods, and that the book was probably missing at least since 2020 or so. (My seller had merely looked the other way downstream.) The member of staff of this auction house told me they were insured against this kind of thing. So, I decided that my seller could probably get his money back there.

By monday, after some further communication between us, my seller agreed not to accept my money if I returned the book to the library in London. And much to my relief my auction house agreed to this approach provided I would supply them with pictures of the stamp and of the book, as well as a letter of the ICE library and me handing it back. I contacted my new librarian friend at ICE, Debra Francis, and she was eager to facilitate this.  

So, this morning I went to the lCE library right next to Parliament. I was stunned by how beautiful it was. And I was welcomed by Debra, who decided to give me a grand treat. First I was given a tour of the library and told its history. I was shown some of the special collections. And then we did the hand-over. But as we did the hand-over she showed me the copy of the 1738 La Figure from their special collection. It was much less pristine copy of the book than 'mine' that I was returning. But as we opened it, it did have the map on the facing page of the frontispiece just as I had remembered! 

For some reason this cheered me up greatly. In part, because it created a new puzzle why did some copies have the map in front and others in the back? (And more interestingly, which one was the original and which on the possible bootleg?) I have done a modest survey online today some seem to lack the map altogether, but other library copies do have the map and there is no clear pattern whether it's in front or in the back of the book.

Now, while Debra Francis was correcting some infelicities in the letter she had made out to my auction house, I had a chance to inspect the box with the original holdings of the library donated by (if I am not mistaken) Thomas Telford. Most of the books were clearly engineering specific. But my heart started to flutter when behind the glass I saw a copy of the Opticks. Judging by its tattered spine an original fourth edition. When my librarian friend returned we opened the case and it turned to be a fragile copy of the third edition.:)  [See picture below.] She had a quick peek in the catalog and informed me there should be more Newton holdings in the case. I scanned the list, and then looked more closely in the case, and immediately spotted a posthumous edition of Newton's work on fluxions. At this point, I had forgotten my misery over the Maupertuis and switched into scholar, teacher, and collector mode and started to pontificate on the significance of these holdings. Then I stopped mid-sentence, I had spotted the Principia!

When she took it out it was a pristine copy of the third edition donated by a Mr. Young in 1840. I immediately tried to remember Thomas Young's dates. I don't think I have ever held a third edition the Principia (the last one published during his life). Despite my excitement I was a bit sad there were no marginalia. However, as I was ruminating over this Debra Francis called me attention to a four page manuscript wedged in the front pages of the book. I have reproduced the first page below. (It's in English and fairly easy to follow.) I immediately took pictures of the whole manuscript and sent them to the great Niccolo Guicciardini to see if he could identify the author.

At this point my host invited me down to the basement where the members registry is held to see if we could identify which Young had donated the copy of the third edition of the Principia. (It turns out the relevant copy of the registry is in storage.)  As it happens the basement office is next to the vault, and I could not resist an offer of a tour of it (including learning the escape route on the other side of the vault). For, it turns out that the library has a special collection which houses just about every important book published in the 17th century on clocks and finding longitude.  So, for the next half hour I geeked out and excitedly explained the significance of each book I recognized to my patient host. And I was also struck by the presence of some works wholly obscure even to a specialist. By the time I left, I forgot to send the materials to the auction house because I was thinking of new research projects. 

 

 

Monographs > Journal articles (hear me out)

Here are three well founded truisms:

1. Most monographs in professional philosophy would be best left as the journal article from which they originate. Arguably many could even be a long read blog post; but I would say that, wouldn't I?
2. Once you have a foot in the door it's easier to publish a monograph than an article in professional philosophy, all things being equal (which they are often not).
3. In most sub-fields of philosophy it's (drafts of) journal articles that set the agenda or demarcate the research frontier. If you referee a lot or are in thorough research networks the journal article is the vehicle to stay abreast of developments.

In addition, a well crafted Analysis article is highly nourishing brain candy. Even so, and despite the fact that reading a book is a far greater time commitment than reading an article, I find reading monographs far more satisfying than reading journal articles especially as I grow older and want to explore and be informed about areas outside my own expertise/specialization. (And by reading a monograph I don't mean downloading a chapter from Oxford scholarship online.) Here's why. 

First, the writing tends to be (aesthetically) more pleasant. I believe this is primarily due to the fact that in journal articles papers get made referee/objection proof (recall truism 2). But I also suspect that people writings books have modest fantasies of grandeur and hope to appeal to a wider audience than their immediate peers and their students. 

Second, for all the ingenuity and dazzling brilliance that goes into most of the arguments in our journal articles, they tend to stand and fall by the common ground that is assumed in the premises of the argument. In most cases that common ground shifts after a few years -- it's philosophy after all. We notice this less in papers that become field defining because in their case their premises end up anchoring the common ground of the field. But unless one is in the field and fully committed to those paradigmatic commitments those premises look weird to outsiders. 

Meanwhile because of the modest fantasies of grandeur associated with a monograph, the argument tends to be articulated in terms of a broader horizon with a set of commitments that are, all things considered equal, not merely reflecting the research frontier (in fact they may well be trailing by the time the book is published). I don't mean to suggest that the premises we find in a monograph are always more plausible, but there is more space to anchor them in a wider range of evidence and commitments. So, the book tends to provide a richer picture of how a position or arguments hang together with a wider range of commitments.  Especially when I am reading outside my area of expertise, this is very helpful.

Third, and even if the premises remain the same (recall truism 1), they are often better supported in a monograph.  Just because there is more space to bring more evidence to bear on them. In papers we often stipulate a lot of commitments for the sake of argument, or we are permitted to treat things as primitive. (As you can tell, I am not a fan of treating key concepts as primitive in monographs.)

Fourth, books tend to try to motivate the project in ways that appeal to a slightly broader audience. This is completely unnecessary in a journal article which reflects ongoing debate and can take its own urgency for granted. And if it motivates the project it is either through short-hand or through the existing common ground of the sub-specialty. But I actually find it incredibly helpful to know and understand what is motivating a project fundamentally before I evaluate the arguments and the position.

Finally, I am not claiming that because books germinate a bit longer -- authors, even 'have to live with' the manuscript for extended periods -- they must be better than journal articles because I suspect a lot of books are either glorified dissertations or exist primarily because of sunk cost fallacies or opaque tenure requirements. (And just before you google my CV, I am a lot better at finishing articles than books.)

My First GPT assisted toy model

A few days ago a prominent economist hereafter (PE) I follow on twitter and enjoy bantering with mentioned, en passant, that PE had used ChatGPT to submit a referee report. (I couldn't find the tweet, so that's why I am not revealing his identity here.) Perhaps PE did so in the context of me entertaining the idea to use it in writing an exam because I have been experimenting with that. I can't say yet it is really a labor saving device, but it makes the process less lonely and more stimulating. The reason it is not a labor saving device is because GPT is a bullshit artist and you constantly have to be on guard it's not just making crap up (which it will then freely admit).

I don't see how I can make it worth my time to get GPT to write referee reports for me given the specific textual commentary I often have to make. I wondered -- since I didn't have the guts to ask PE to share the GPT enabled referee report with me -- if it would be easier to write such a joint report in the context of pointing out mistakes in the kind of toy models a lot of economics engages in. This got me thinking. 

About a decade ago I was exposed to work by Allan Franklin and Kent Staley (see here) and (here). It may have been a session at a conference before this work was published; I don't recall the exact order. But it was about the role of incredibly high statistical significance standards in some parts of high energy physics, and the evolution of these standards over time. What was neat about their research is that it also was sensitive to background pragmatic and sociological issues. And as I was reflecting on their narratives and evidence, it occurred to me one could create a toy model to represent some of the main factors that should be able to predict if an experimental paper gets accepted, and where failure of the model would indicate shifting standards (or something interesting about that). 

However, back home, I realized I couldn't do it. Every decision created anxiety, and i noticed that even simple functional relations were opportunities for agonising internal debates. I reflected on the fact that while I had been writing about other people's models and methods for a long time  (sometimes involving non-trivial math), I had never actually tried to put together a model because all my knowledge about science was theoretical and self-learned. I had never taken graduate level science courses, and so never had been drilled in the making of even basic toy-models. This needn't been the end of the matter because all I needed to do was be patient and work through it in trial and error or, more efficiently, find a collaborator within (smiles sheepishly) the division of labor. But the one person I mentioned this project to over dinner didn't think it was an interesting modeling exercise because (i) my model would be super basic and (ii) it was not in his current research interests to really explore it. (He is super sweet dude, so he said it without kicking down.)

Anyway, this morning, GPT and I 'worked together' to produce Model 7.0.

Model 7.0 is a toy model that represents the likelihood a scientific paper is accepted or rejected in a field characterized as 'normal science' based on several factors. I wanted to capture intuitons about the kind of work it is, but also sociological and economic considations that operate in the background. I decided the model needed to distinguish among four kinds of 'results':

• Ri: replications
• Rii: results that require adjustment to the edges of the background theory;
• Riii: results that confirm difficult to produce predictions/implications of the background theory;
• Riv: results that refute central tenets of the background theory (so called falsifications).

The model is shaped by the lack of interest in replications. Results that refute central tenets of a well confirmed theory need to pass relatively high evidential treshholds (higher than in Rii and Riii). I decided that experimental cost (which I would treat as a proxy for difficulty) would enter into decisions about relative priority of Rii and Riii.  In addition, there were differences of standards in fields defined by robust background theories (or not so robust). As robustness goes up baseline standards of significance that need to be met, too. 

I thought it clever to capture a Lakatosian intuition that results in a core and result on a fringe are treated differently. And I also wanted to capture the pragmatic fact that journal  space is not unlimited and that its supply is shaped by the number of people chasing tenure.

So, in model 7.0 we can distinguish among the following variables

• Θ represents the centrality of the topic (Theta).
• Σ represents the statistical significance of the results (Sigma).
• Ρ represents the robustness of the background theory (Rho).
• α represents the journal space availability (Alpha).
• N the number of people seeking tenure,
• C the cost of the experiments 

I decided that the relationship between journal space and number of people seeking tenure would be structurally the same in all four kinds of results. As the number of people seeking tenure in a field (N) increases, journal space availability (α) also increases, leading to a decrease in the importance of the other three variables (Θ, Σ, Ρ) in determining the probability of acceptance (P(Accepted) and so this became 'α / (α + k * N)' in all the functions. k represents the rate of decrease in significance threshold with increase in number of replications, which GTP thought clever to include. (Obviously, if you think that in a larger field it gets harder to publish results at a threshhold you would change signs here, etc.)

The formula for accepting papers for four different kind of results in a given field with a shared backgrond theory is given as follows:

• P(Accepted | Ri) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α, Ri) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α / (α + k * N), Ri)
• P(Accepted | Rii) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α, Rii) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α / (α + k * N), Rii) * h(C, Rii)
• P(Accepted | Riii) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α, Riii) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α / (α + k * N), Riii) * h(C, Riii)
• P(Accepted | Riv) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α, Riv) = f(Θ, Σ, Ρ, α / (α + k * N), Riv) * g(Σ, Ρ, Riv)

For Rii and Riii, the formula also includes an additional term h(C, Rii) or h(C, Riii) respectively, which represents the effect of cost on the likelihood of acceptance. The function h is such that as costs go up, there is a greater likelihood that Riii will be accepted than Rii. We are more interested in a new particle than we are in a changing parameter that effects some measurements only. For Riv, the formula includes an additional term g(Σ, Ρ, Riv), which represents the impact of the robustness of the scientific theory being tested and the quality of the experimental design on the likelihood of acceptance. The standard for Riv is much higher than for Rii and Riii, as it requires an order of magnitude higher level of statistical significance.

It is not especially complicated to extend this kind of model to capture the idea that journals with different prestige game relative acceptance rates, or that replications (Ri) with non trivial higher statistical power do get accepted (for a while), but that's for future work.:)

I decided to pause at Model 7.0 because GPT seemed to be rather busy helping others. I was getting lots of "Maybe try me again in a little bit" responses. And I could see that merely adding terms was not going to be satisfying. I needed to do some thinking about the nature of this model and play around with it. Anyway, GPT also made some suggestions on how to collect data for such a model, how to operationalize different variables, and how to refine it, but I have to run to a lunch meeting. And then do a literature survey to see what kind of models are out there. It's probably too late for me to get into the modeling business, but I suspect GPT like models will become lots of people's buddies.

 

 

Two Years (of Long) Covid; (covid diaries)

Last time, I reported I caught covid in the first week of December. (For my official "covid diaries" see here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; and here.) It took about sixteen days before I was negative again. Most of my symptoms were flu-like without any fever.  I had a stuffy nose for another week or so, and it was accompanied by nose bleeding. The good news was that most of the very scary symptoms I had the first time around did not reappear.

However, for about four days I had a terrible skin rash and itch that reminded me of an episode that started after an insect bite in the Berkshires. That took seven years to resolve without any clear explanation. So, the recurrence of something very similar was very frightening. Luckily the itch went away.

Unfortunately, my convalescence took place on a deserted, but bug infested tropical island [don’t cry for me] and so I have had a few disturbed night’s sleep since because I am clearly rather sensitive to bug bites right now. While I was recovering, looking at tropical sunrises and sunsets and reading, my immediate family was cursed with bad luck. My better half caught a virus and was out with horrible flu-like symptoms for almost ten days. At first, I was convinced it was corona, but she kept testing negatively. And just as she recovered our son had a food poisoning. So, we only had a ‘real’ holiday for the last five days or so.

Tonight, I fly back to Europe. And my amazing research leave ends. (I am so grateful to everyone that made this possible.) So, it’s a useful time to take stock. First, by November I was pretty much in a place that my ‘long covid’ was under control with careful planning and relatively modest use of anti-inflammatories. I was able to be in more complex social environments again, walk and talk, and do non-trivial cognitive multi-tasking of the sort that ‘we’ (I should say ‘neuro-non-divergent’) take for granted especially in work environments and public spaces. I was thrilled to celebrate this, as you may recall with some more strenuous hiking and conference attendance.

When I got covid again last month, I was, of course, very anxious about what symptoms would re-appear and which new ones would develop. The good news was that I immediately noticed that I did not re-develop brain fog or dizziness of any kind. I had to stop reading books, but that was not especially disconcerting because I don’t read philosophy books while I have the flu. In other respects, I was very independent, albeit a touch forgetful. (I left some stuff behind during my move from Tucson. Bad news mom!)

It was a very disappointing end to my amazing research leave. And, emotionally tough because my family had basically let me 'opt out' for a few months with the implicit hope that I would return much better than I was. But a month later, I am confident that I can get to where I was in November. Now the only symptom I have is that I get (head) fatigued in social environments a bit quicker than during the late Fall. But I am not noise sensitive. I even listened to music again on holiday.

So, with planning and anti-inflammatories, I expect to have a normal quality of life. I start teaching my huge (500+ enrolled students) intro lecture course in Amsterdam early February. And that should give a very good reality check of where I stand in my recovery/living with long covid journey.

Meanwhile, I ended the year with an acceptance of a co-authored paper in Ethics/Epistemology of AI. (A new AOS!) That was very gratifying because my two co-authors (the wonderful Federica Russo and Jean Wagemans) basically waited for my recovery to complete the project. I also learned that the contracts between Dutch universities and for-profit publishers to arrange open-access publication, ration the number of annual papers the journals can publish. Luckily, the clock starts at zero at the start of the new year. (But the ration was filled some time in November at the journal that accepted our paper!) Also, I submitted two papers that are spin-offs of my quixotic Foucault project. One of them was desk-rejected quickly but with sensible editorial comments.

And so, on that entirely academic, humdrum note, I mark the two-year point of my first covid diagnosis and celebrate the start of the year with optimism. When I return home, there are a pile of referee requests (grants, tenure, papers) waiting to be completed. For some reason the ordinariness of that sentence pleases me.

Covid, again (Covid Diaries)

I tested positive for covid, again, last week. So, it's time for another entry in my Covid Diaries. (For my official "covid diaries" see here; here;  here; here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; and here). I attended a conference on December 2-3, and so when I felt crappy on Sunday, I assumed I had done too much socializing during the workshop (despite skipping a few meals). The headache and fatigue were bad, but not worse than any other post-cognitive-multitasking event. On Tuesday morning, I was concerned enough to do a self-test (which came back negative). So, initially I decided I had picked up a flu-bug. I ended up pulling out of all my social activities last week. (There were a lot of them because I was supposed to leave Tucson on Friday.)

While my headache disappeared after two days, a general malaise  -- fatigue, brain fog, and an annoying cough-- remained. On Wednesday night I slept especially badly; a weird skin itch had kept me up. Thanks to a mosquito in a quiet valley of the Berkshires near the Appelachian trail, I am not wholly familiar with skin rash. At the time -- it's now fifteen years ago or so -- I tried to treat it with OTC  steroid cream  to which I had an awful allergic reaction. Somewhat unfortunately, I turned out to be allergic to everything that was prescribed to me in that period. Eventually my skin allergies were diagnosed, and despite meds, I learned to live with itch (while being an irritable, unpleasant human being to others sometimes). After seven miserable years, the itch disappeared one day to the next after an ENT clinician added some meds to deal with  a chronic sinusitis half a decade ago or so. 

Because I was leaving town on Friday and visiting friends with an elderly mum, I decided to do another covid test. This time I was positive (something confirmed with numerous other tests since). Because I figured I might have to deal with travel insurance and airplanes and some documentation would be helpful, I went to a physician, who told me that the skin rash is a not uncommon side-effect of covid-19. But that otherwise I was in decent shape (no fever, all vitals fine, etc.), and that I could travel later this week again. (We checked the CDC travel guides together.) She said, that I should expect to test positive for quite a period ahead.

Luckily my hosts at the University of Arizona managed to let me stay in my rental for a few extra days. And except for the hyper-sensitive skin and itch -- which keeps me up at night -- most of my current symptoms feel like a mild flu, with brain fog. Last week, I was unable to read books or papers. In fact, I spent most of my time watching short scenes from Friends on my phone. Eventually I binge-watched the second half of Andor (which I loved), and cought up on some Jason Statham movies. (One of them, Mechanic: Resurrection, criminally underuses Michelle Yeoh--I can't believe they did not do a fight scene with her.)

The last few days, I did get exposed, anew, to some of the peculiarities of US health care system. When I scheduled a PCR test at a local Wallgreens, I almost got denied the test because I showed up on foot. (It was a drive through test!) The pharmacy is about 20 minute walk from me. Initially, the attendant declined to give it to me because I was not in a car. When I asked if I could get it inside, that raised even more heckles. Eventually, after a really sad look by me, she relented and let me take the test on foot in the drive through area. After I was done I asked her what happens to peoople without a car. And she said they come with friends or in an uber.

I am fully insured and figured it made sense to register with a GP or a family practice. Last week, I went to the list of approved practices and ended up calling half a dozen. None of them could schedule an intake before the end of the year. One called me back to deny me entry to the practice because their first appointment would be in the middle of January, and by then the insurance records showed I would be without coverage. (True enough I was planning to be back in Europe.) I called the insurance company for advice, and they suggested that if I got really sick I should just go to ER. The next day, while I was checking for covid testing places, I found a medical clinic specialized in covid. Much to my amazement, I could be seen on the week-end and it was all covered by my insurance. Anyway, at the moment the plan is that unless I suddenly deteriorate, I go on family holiday later this week and recuperate on the beach. (Could be worse.) 

I have to admit that while I often took precaution against renewed infection, I did secretly think of myself invulnerable after my first illness and the subsequent four shots of vaccination. Anyway, fingers crossed that I recover before the start of classes in February.

 

 

 

Covid Diaries: Transitions

After a week of family holiday in California with my immediate family, I am about to fly out to Tucson for a six week research stay at the University of Arizona. It seems like a good moment for a new entry in my covid diaries. It's time for another entry in my Covid Diaries. (For my official "covid diaries," see here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here, here; here; here, here; here; here; here; here; here; and here.) I am writing these entries roughly a month apart for some time now. I seem to have turned an important corner since August. While I qualify this below (and will also mention some frustrating features about new symptoms), it’s fair to state that I am clearly much better than I have been at any time since I first got sick.

 

Before I get to that, my mom caught covid back in Amsterdam after managing to avoid it for so long. She is fully vaccinated, but at her age it’s still a bit terrifying. She was suffering greatly during the first few days; and while I was a bit relieved after talking to her yesterday it still sounds very challenging. So spare a few thoughts, prayers, and well wishes for her. Stateside Paxlovid seems to be almost a routine part of covid care (I can’t count the number of people who told me they had been prescribed it even with very modest symptoms), but typically (and somewhat frustratingly to me) not so in Holland.

 

After a few very quiet and deeply intellectually satisfying weeks at Duke with very structured and a low-key schedule (special shout out to Sunday Dim Sum at Geoff Sayre-McCord and Happy), I allowed myself to step outside of my comfort zone on a number of occasions. To summarize the take-away: the good news is that with judicious use of anti-inflammatories I can survive, even thrive, in social environments including pretty challenging ones. It’s not that I don’t encounter my limits (especially in larger, socially demanding environments), but the fall-out tends to be fairly limited with less cognitive and physical fatigue and almost no headaches, and with recovery periods that tend to be much smoother (better sleep). More on this below.

 

When I studied in Boston and Chicago, I would frequently meet my dad in New York city (where he had studied). Once, about twenty five years ago, when he was around sixty, as we were walking near his (and his father-in-law’s) old stomping grounds in the garment district, he complained that New York was so loud. It was the first time I felt he was aging. I often think of that moment because I increasingly believe, as I have noted before during these diaries, that a lot of symptoms we commonly associate with aging are really the aftermath of a viral infection. (I would love to study this hypothesis with a historical epidemiologist.)

 

This past week with our son, I wondered if he saw me as old now. Again, while most of my symptoms have vastly improved (I am really happy), it turns out that physical exercise has become much more difficult. I have a very strange fatigue when I try to exercise or run—it’s as if the brain signals don’t really reach the muscles, and that I have slept very badly. (Oddly I don’t notice the problem in my lungs.) This was not the case previously (after my initial five months of bedridden-ness had ended last year).

 

Early in the week we went to a NBA game (the Clippers vs Suns) at the Staples Center. And I was amazed that the experience felt like living in a boom-box. The beat and sound (organized by the Clippers/stadium) was unrelenting. (It was nothing like how I remembered the old Boston Garden or Chicago’s United Center.) Because he Clippers were completely outplayed and outclassed by the Suns, the crowd was rather lackluster during the game, and so it could have been worse for me. But much to my surprise, I survived the ordeal and even enjoyed it (especially watching his reactions).

Interestingly enough, I found the NBA game less challenging than a visit to Boston a week earlier, where I attended a retirement reception of my teachers Dan Dennett and George Smith. Ahead of it they had both written me expressing the idea that the other would really appreciate it if I attended. The reception was low key, but the back-ground murmur and the multiple demands on my attention clearly exhausted me—I had to cancel my dinner plans and rest. (It didn’t help that the hotel I had been staying in was next to a construction site and the generators were clearly audible in my room—I ended up measuring >65 decibels!) In light of this, and my experiences at the Chapel Hill philosophy colloquium (I had to call it quits after two talks), I have decided to pull out of larger conferences (the Eastern APA) and to skipp my cousin’s wedding.

 

One other new symptom is that at various times, and completely unaccountably (so without rhyme or reason), I will wake up with a splitting headache in the middle of the night a few times in a row during the night and a few nights in a row. Because I take melatonin – which is a godsend -- and have a good meditation routine I usually manage to fall back asleep fairly quickly, but sometimes I have to take anti-inflammatories to ease it along.

As an aside: it’s well-known that naproxen is not very good for one’s stomach. But it’s been surprisingly difficult to find papers or data with exact figures for the risks and thresh-holds given my age and other underlying issues. No physician nor pharmacological experts have been able to point me to any informative evidence. So, it’s made me curious what the underlying evidence is that has made it to the textbooks in all countries, especially because I do need to take the anti-inflammatories a few times a week.

 

Anyway, be that as it may, let me wrap up. Because my social life is so much better I am also much more upbeat. Also,I really enjoyed being with my wife and son. I was much less noise sensitive and generally able to partake in daily banter and activities without it being cognitively painful. As I have noted in these diaries, the way my long covid symptoms manifested made it especially difficult for me to be social with others and for others to be around me. So, saying a temporary goodbye to them knowing that I am now much better at family life again felt very difficult. Okay, so on that wistful note I’ll end this post. I am in a better place and grateful for it.

On Blogging with the Big Folk at Crooked Timber

I have been invited to join the Crooked Timber blog. I have been reading that blog as long as I can remember the existence of blogs. And while I don’t recall John Protevi ever mentioning it, or any of us discussing it, it’s pretty clear that Crooked Timber was the standard we tried to emulate in the golden days at NewAPPS. So, I felt a strange mixture of flattery and disbelief when I was contemplating joining it. I hesitated about my decision primarily because I don’t want to give up these Digressions, and wasn’t sure, given the ongoing after-effects of long covid, whether I wanted the meshuggas (and coordination costs) that inevitably comes with a group blog (with different comments policy than my own) and a much larger audience, again. I also adore your loyalty and quality engagement, and the freedom I have, here. Not to mention that D&I has become a self-anchoring mechanism.

Anyway, I published my first piece at the good old Crooked Timber (see here). I intend to write essays there that are deliberately pitched to a slightly wider audience (primarily on politics and on what Foucault might call the ‘philosophy of the present’). But I won’t give up my fleeting and more nerdy (as well as autobiographical) Impressions, just yet. 😊

Covid Diaries: a much fuller glass despite some tricky issues.

It's time for another entry in my Covid Diaries. (For my official "covid diaries," see here; here; here;  here; here; here; here;  here; here;  here; here;  here; here; here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here, here; here; here, here; here; here; here; here; and here.) If you don't want to read the whole post, here is my executive summary: the glass is much fuller than two months ago, while some tricky issues remain.

About a month ago, I wrote that "I can report some modest, good news. Without any evident explanation, I suddenly improved greatly from the start of August onward." Since then I traveled to Durham for a six week visiting stint at Duke University. (I am exactly at the half-way point now.) Packing, travel, and getting oriented in a new place is pretty stressful. Luckily the trip was uneventful, and Kirun Sankaran (a very talented local postdoc) helpfully picked me up at the airport, and  organized a stop at a supermarket before dropping me off at my new abode. 

Despite the lovely and very organized welcome at the Center for the History of Political Economy, the first week in Durham was pretty challenging due to my jetlag and the really oppressive humidity and heat (as well as some maintenance issues in my rental). I adore warm weather, but dislike having to hide in airconditioned spaces. By the end of the first week I was, in fact, under the weather, and worried that I had overestimated my recovery. I canceled my social schedule, and spend a few days in bed and on the sofa of my rental. By Tuesday I was feeling much better, and able to comment on a fascinating workshop paper by Jennifer Jhun in the Duke philosophy department. Shortly thereafter the humidity disappeared and until Hurricane Ian we've had just lovely, even inspiring. weather. 

As the hurricane arrived on campus -- classes got canceled -- I workshopped a chapter of my Foucault/liberal art of government book in progress in the HOPE Center, and then enjoyed a festive reception and a joyous dinner (in the otherwise deserted campus center). Ian was a serious storm, but not frightening in my location. While I was in bed relatively early, no amount of meditation helped my excited brain relax. I went over the day countless times, and had to pinch myself I had been in a professional academic environment focused on my work. I had a restless sleep, and the next day I just chilled--with the storm raging there were no other options anyway. The dreaded headache did not materialize, but I felt very fatigued.

So, looking back at my first three weeks here: I have had some intense and very good conversations, socialized a few times (a Dim Sum, a BBQ dinner, some lunches and coffee, etc.), and even engaged in non trivial academic work. All of  that is very encouraging. The anti-inflammatory meds I use are excellent  in preventing and treating headaches and other long covid related symptoms. And I have become more willing to experiment with social interactions without taking meds altogether. And while I still struggle in environments with other social stimuli, it's much improved from where I was.

Having said that, I have woken up with random (but sadly familiar) headaches in the middle of the night a few times, and I do bump into my limitations at odd moments. I am currently struggling greatly in my morning work outs, and I need to take more regular breaks while writing/researching.

I have my own cubicle in the library (sadly without windows), and access to the open stacks. It's bewildering that I have more shelve-space for books in the cubicle at a place I am visiting than at my shared office at my home university. I was completely blown away when, during my first day at the HOPE center, the economics department's tech support came by to set me up with local printing (etc.). (I was happy I had brought extra Harrods ginger biscuits from London so I could express my gratitude spontaneously.) 

As an aside, in fact, while I have spent a good chunk of the first few years of my academic life employed at rather wealthy, private US universities (and have visited countless times since), the contrast between life at Duke with my current work conditions at a massive Dutch state university hit me hard. While I may publish in similar outlets as the locals, what one may call the 'phenomenological-geography of our daily academic lives' (e.g., class size, office space, technical support, length of academic year, etc.) is incomprehensibly different. For example, in order to visit here I had to take unpaid leave (and cash in overtime hours) because it will be a while before I am eligible for the very new sabbatical arrangement my department finally instituted. Odds are I will never be eligible for it. (Don't ask, but it's basically a money/funding issue.)

Anyway, I spent mornings writing, and if I socialize at all this starts after lunch. I mostly read secondary literature in the afternoon. I miss my family intensely, but I very much appreciate the lack of responsibilities to others and the general quiet of my life. This week, I have set aside to get on top of some professional obligations to others (letters of recommendation, reviews, revise and resubmits with other authors). All and all, I feel pretty blessed. (And I welcome suggestions for more opportunities to be on paid leave!)

Okay, I should wrap up. Technically speaking I am not on disability anymore since the first of September. But I am obviously relieved I don't have to teach full time this Fall, especially because of the many small cognitive (weird memory issues and odd moments of head fatigue) and physical issues I still encounter. And while I teach a huge lecture course in the spring, It's under seven weeks. So, the real test of my cognitive stamina will occur only a year from now (at the start of next academic year). I am tentatively scheduling academic commitments (talks, workshops) along the way. Because I love undergraduate teaching, I am more optimistic than I have been in close to two years that it's not unreasonable to expect I will be able to return to things I adore about my profession on a regular basis. I am even hopeful I will be able to socialize with friends and family more normally again. So, there, the glass is filling up with the nectar of life; I said it.

Covid Diaries: Good Enough Professing

It's time for another entry in my Covid Diaries. (For my official "covid diaries," see here; here; here;  here;here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here, here; here; here, here; here; here; here; and here). Finally, I can report some modest, good news. Without any evident explanation, I suddenly improved greatly from the start of August onward. I found swimming enjoyable again, my writing picked up, and I had the impression I was becoming less noise sensitive. I went to the opera at Glyndebourne with my better half. (That's annual tradition for us, but she went without me earlier in the year.) It's a long drive in both directions, but we decided to try it because intermission is a leisurely picnic. I adored it, and except for a few minutes while the orchestra was tuning and the audience buzzing with anticipation at the start of the second act, which triggered my noise sensitivity, it was marvelous. (Well, I loved the music and the performances, but the production was awful.) More recently, I attended a department (management) meeting for ninety minutes, and have even ventured out to enjoy lunch and coffee in outdoor terraces. So, I am participating in life more fully again!

Long covid is a roller-coaster -- 'coaster corona' -- with changing symptoms and often false starts and sudden setbacks. But this past month feels qualitatively different. I started using anti-inflammatories (basically extra strength Aleve) a few months ago, and I finally have figured out when to use them and what the so-called minimally effective dosage is in order to prevent the weird head fatigue and headaches. In the Spring I was averaging about six headache days per months and now it's really zero. (I do sometimes get headaches in the middle of the night, but with meditation and melatonin I tend to sleep those off.) And as the first paragraph indicates, I have grown bolder trying to manage meetings or conversations without meds and being alert to the onset of symptoms. 

The other big news is that since yesterday I am formally off Dutch disability (and so '100% healthy' again)! [I wondered if I should put a sly reference to that info into yesterday's digression!] My occupational physician and I were working towards this decision for about a half year now. Incrementally reducing my 'disability percentage.' The decision became much easier once I had a Fall research leave Stateside lined up (thank you family, Duke, Arizona, and department!), and the sudden improvement this past month. It also helps that my spring teaching is relatively light: only one massive lecture course I have taught before. (I basically cased in a year and half of "over-hours.'') So, the real 'work test' will only occur Fall 2023, a year from now, when I have to start teaching a full load again, including discussion heavy seminars (which was so difficult last Fall).

I am by no means recovered to where I was in all kinds of un-expected ways, but I do sincerely expect that I can actually do most of the activities expected from me in my position. After ''good enough parenting" this should be "good enough professing" (GEP)! Hopefully by this time next year I have continued to improve, and so I can be confident about being a solid GEP.

Earlier in the month, Shelley Tremain published an interview with me (big reveal!) at Biopolitical Philosophy here. I mention it because, due to space constraints, we had to cut a paragraph that, after the fact, I thought rather important. During the interview I explain how much my chronic illness prevents me from participating in professional activities and triggers a withdrawal from the world. But I added a qualification. Here's the paragraph we cut:

I don’t mean to suggest my life is primarily an adjustment to limitations by narrowing the range of activity. While that’s undoubtedly true – I have had to give up on lots of activities, especially social ones. But it’s also opened up new ones. I had to give up cycling around Amsterdam (because I am native born that’s really a second nature there). I started to walk to work or to the supermarket. And on foot one moves so more slowly that one really has time to take in the astonishing beauty, even sublimity of the place. Because my agenda was much less cluttered, I would also work with time to enjoy my surroundings. I started to take pictures of my walks on my mobile phone; and I found that these, in turn, connected me with all kinds of people; amateur photographers, folks that share my aesthetic, old friends, etc.  And it's been such a thrill that amidst non-trivial solitude I felt a sense of community. 

That seems like a good place to end this post.

Covid Diaries: Attention Deficits

I interrupt my usual Summer blogging break with a new entry in my Covid Diaries. (For my official "covid diaries," see here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here; here; here;  here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here;  here, here; here; here, here; here; here; and here). And, as is depressingly familiar, the situation is a mixed bag.

First, the interesting news is that earlier this week I saw a clinical neuro-psychologist through a referral from the NHS long covid clinic. Curiously enough, when my Dutch GP and Dutch occupational physician tried to refer me to one a year ago (!), my Dutch neurologist and the wider group of the occupational physician blocked it! It's against protocol in the Netherlands, where long covid is treated by occupational therapists (unless there are serious lung or heart symptoms). So after the covid induced migraine was diagnosed by my UK neurologist, my Dutch neurologist admitted it had never occurred to him as a possible diagnosis. This was a bit bitter for me because during my first visit with him I had an intolerable headache which he somehow kept discounting. (Mind you I am a male academic with lots of cultural capital in the Netherlands.)

As an aside, I am not entirely convinced I have a real migraine because, as I have noted before, my symptoms are very well managed by anti-inflammatories (basically extra strength Aleve--this is not available over the counter in the UK), and in my view the triptans are less effective against them. I return to this below.

The clinical neuro-psychologist is a young lad, who called me 'Professor' when he looked for me in the corridor outside of his office. (I was not used to that in this context so it took me a while to realize he was calling me.) I later learned he is also getting a PhD in cognitive science with a specialization on frontal lobe functioning. (I hope I have not outed him.) He had a two-volume copy of William James The Principles of Psychology on his shelves which immediately endeared him to me.  Anyway, after the 110 minutes (!) of testing, he could reassure me there is nothing wrong with my frontal lobe or any of my cognitive functioning. However, I do have rather striking attention issues; so, once the information comes in I process it okay, but certain kinds of information (white middle aged male faces, long digits of numbers, and domestic images) are often screened out. Whereas words and geometric objects go in just fine--so I should still manage okay with the Principia!

On the whole the results are not surprising (although I found my inability to manipulate medium length strings of digits really disconcerting) because they chime in with the reasons why I was interested in this referral in the first place. As an aside, I did wonder if I would do better with women's faces. But then I remembered a disconcerting conversation with one of my lecture course students this past Spring, where after polite small talk in the hall way where she studied next to my office (in which I asked her name, who her favorite theorist we discuss is, etc.), I suddenly had the good sense to ask, 'we have had this conversation before, right?' And she said, it's the fourth time.

The really good news lurking here is that the patterns he found are very dissimilar to what they find in early stages of Alzheimer, dementia or stroke. (On the way home I did wonder what I would do with my life if there were signs of the first two.) Anyway, he didn't know what kind of label to put onto me (I think he is leaving that to the neurologist), except to say that I have a weird kind of attention deficit now (but nothing like ADHD he emphasized). Not unlike the neurologist, he emphasized that they seem my symptoms a lot in in the NHS long haul clinic. In addition, he was pleased to note that once in my cognitive functioning is okay, "superb" even. He and I both regretted there is no pre-Covid baseline to compare me with. 

Second, earlier in the month we had a long family holiday on Paros. There I learned that I am still incredibly hyper-sensitive to sound and that social interactions (which exhaust me) have to be planned very carefully. It seems nearly every restaurant plays some background music, and even the kite-surf shack (where my family spent a lot of time without me) on the beach, which does not have running water or a kitchen, does have music playing. I was reminded of my graduate school dog park friend, Matthew Crawford's second book, The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction. In it he points out that in modern life we're surrounded by music and images that try to attract us or distract us, and that the airport lounges of the very wealthy are very quiet. (But I bet these, too, have a soft background music that barely register unless you are me.) Our public or communal spaces are not allowed to be still.

That's to say, the first week of holiday was a bit of a struggle to find the right balance for the three of us. Somewhat annoyingly, whereas during most of my long covid swimming has been a source of enduring pleasure, on holiday I noticed that I found it exhausting (which had also been true ahead of our trip). The really annoying thing of long covid is that my symptoms keep switching slowly after every three or four months or so (more below). Anyway, I do swim most mornings just to stay active. Even played some pick-up basketball with my son in the (rather warm) Greek evenings, which felt like a precious moment I would not have expected a year ago, but still wasn't wholly pleasant (because my head felt so strange).

Luckily, extra strength Aleve (500mg naproxen) is available and cheap over the counter in Greece, so I stacked up on it.:) And the really good news is that most of my symptoms (weird head fatigue, headaches) are very well managed with anti-inflammatories. I haven't had a real headache day in months. Sometimes I am very aware my body and even my head registers I was socially too active, but because of the Aleve I don't have any pain. So, on the whole I am much better than, say, six months ago because I really suffer less.

The bad news is that I have clearly stagnated; I continue to be hypersensitive to sound if there is more than one source in the area and all my social activities, including with my family, have to be carefully planned. This puts considerable hardship on my family, even on days where I think things are going okay. I have also noticed since I returned from holiday that when I spent hours on end in the library, my head starts to feel fatigued; this has never happened to me before not even during long covid (much to the bewilderment of my occupational therapists who all assume that anything work related must be stressful and exhausting). So, I take more breaks now. (The British Library is actually well designed for that.)

As a total aside, this year I submitted two co-authored papers that originated in my pre-covid days but where completion had to be postponed due to my illness. The first got rejected with decent reports (ref 1 fair; ref 2 a bit silly) and the second a major revise & resubmit, and while neither is tremendous news, it did make me feel almost like a normal academic again. This week I also completed a long draft of my review of Neil Levy's Bad Beliefs (which you should read his book that is, well also my review!:)). 

I should close, but one pet-peeve. There is increasing evidence that weight loss helps manage long covid symptoms. And so lots of folk send me press releases on this and nudge me to 'consider losing weight.' Now, ever since I probably had a mini stroke/TIA a decade ago, I pay attention to my weight. And it is very clear  that because of long covid I have gained weight; not just because I probably exercise less and eat more from stress/emotional need, but also because when I do 'diet' (basically a low carb diet), I don't lose weight as quickly as I used to. It's pretty annoying to be told 'consider doing X' while you are 'doing X.' (Beccy Lucas has a hilarious sketch on that if you are into that kind of thing.) 

Anyway, while I dislike the social norm that we must exude optimism, I do feel very blessed that I have a forthcoming Fall (unpaid) research leave. I feel grateful my family found a way to make it work for them, and lucky that the folks at Duke and Arizona are willing to host me (with some funding). Recently I bought my ticket and found housing, and it's suddenly starting to feel very real. Anyway, with that I return to my customary Summer blogging break.