The Atomic Energy Merit Badge

My Atomic Energy Merit Badge.

Chapter 17 of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology discusses nuclear physics and nuclear medicine. I began studying nuclear physics fifty years ago. It all started in the Boy Scouts.

Troop 96, Morrison, Illinois.

When growing up in Morrison, Illinois, I was a member of the Cub Scouts and then the Boy Scouts. I enjoyed the camping, hiking, and canoeing. Each summer I spent a week at scout camp, and loved it. In the winter, we would have a Klondike Derby, which involved pushing a large sled over the snow and then camping in the cold. I was a member of Morrison’s Troop 96 and Mr. Glenn Van Eaton was our Scoutmaster; behind his back we called him “General Glenn.” One of my fondest memories was being inducted into the Order of the Arrow. At a campfire ceremony, several of us were “tapped-out” for initiation, which involved spending a night in the woods alone.

My Scout Handbook.

Between campouts, we earned merit badges. Some of them you'd expect, such as first-aid, rowing, swimming, and pioneering (knot tying). Others examined adult topics, such as atomic energy.

I found my old Scout Handbook—molding in a box in our basement—and looked up the requirements for the atomic energy merit badge. They are impressive. Completing this merit badge provides a good preparation for Chapter 17 of IPMB.

1. Tell the meaning of the following: alpha particle, atom, background radiation, beta particle, curie, fallout, half-life, ionization, isotope, neutron activation, nuclear reactor, particle accelerator, radiation, radioactivity, roentgen, and X-ray. 
2. Make three-dimensional models of the atoms of the three isotopes of hydrogen. Show neutrons, protons, and electrons. Use these models to explain the difference between atomic weight and number. 
3. Make a drawing showing how nuclear fission happens. Label all details. Draw a second picture showing how a chain reaction could be started. Also show how it could be stopped. Show what is meant by “critical mass.”
4. Tell who five of the following people were. Explain what each of the five discovered in the field of atomic energy: Henri Becquerel, Niels Bohr, Marie Curie, Albert Einstein, Enrico Fermi, Otto Hahn, Ernest Lawrence, Lise Meitner, William Rontgen, and Sir Ernest Rutherford. Explain how any one person’s discovery was related to one other person’s work. 
5. Draw and color the radiation hazard symbol. Explain where it should be used and not used. Tell why and how people must use radiation or radioactive materials carefully.
6. Do any THREE of the following:
   1. Build an electroscope. Show how it works. Put a radiation source inside it. Explain any difference seen. 
   2. Make a simple Geiger counter. Tell the parts. Tell which types of radiation the counter can spot. Tell how many counts per minute of what radiation you have found in your home. 
   3. Build a model of a reactor. Show the fuel, the control rods, the shielding, the moderator, and any cooling material. Explain how a reactor could be used to change nuclear into electrical energy or make things radioactive. 
   4. Use a Geiger counter and a radiation source. Show how the counts per minute change as the source gets closer. Put three different kinds of material between the source and the detector. Explain any differences in the counts per minute. Tell which is the best to shield people from radiation and why. 
   5. Use fast-speed film and a radiation source. Show the principles of autoradiography and radiography. Explain what happened to the films. Tell how someone could use this in medicine, research, or industry. 
   6. Using a Geiger counter (that you have built or borrowed), find a radiation source that has been hidden under a covering. Find it in at least three other places under the cover. Explain how someone could use this in medicine, research, agriculture, or industry. 
   7. Visit a place where X-rays are used. Draw a floor plan of the room in which it is used. Show where the unit is. Show where the unit, the person who runs it, and the patient would be when it is used. Describe the radiation dangers from X-rays. 
   8. Make a cloud chamber. Show how it can be used to see the tracks caused by radiation. Explain what is happening. 
   9. Visit a place where radioisotopes are being used. Explain by a drawing how and why they are used. 
   10. Get samples of irradiated seeds. Plant them. Plant a group of nonirradiated seeds of the same kind. Grow both groups. List any differences. Discuss what irradiation does to seeds.

Build a Geiger counter? Mom would have vetoed that!

Working on the atomic energy merit badge may have been my initial exposure to physics; the first step in a long journey. Now it is called the nuclear science merit badge. Some of the requirements are the same, but there is more emphasis on radiation hazards (for example, radon) and nuclear medicine. Probably it is even better at preparing you for Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

My dad made it to Eagle Scout when he was young, but I didn’t uphold the family tradition. I quit scouts with the rank of Life. Most boys enter high school and lose interest in scouting, but a few hang on and make it to Eagle. I was planning on being one of the few, but when we moved out of town after my sophomore year I didn't restart with a new troop. Besides, I attended high school in the post-Vietnam/Watergate era, when scouting went out of fashion. Over the years, I came to disagree with the Boy Scouts’ positions on homosexuality and religion, so I don’t regret dropping out. But when I was a kid in Morrison, those issues never came up. We just had fun.

My Order of the Arrow sash.

My 18 merit badges (left to right, then top to bottom):
Stamp Collecting, First Aid, Music,
Swimming, Cooking, Canoeing,
Rowing, Camping, Reading,
Citizenship in the Nation, Emergency Preparedness, Citizenship in the Community,
Citizenship in the World, Atomic Energy, Scholarship,
Fish and Wildlife Management, Pioneering, and Environmental Science.
Those with a silver rim are required for Eagle.

Harry Pennes, Biological Physicist

First page of Pennes (1948) J Appl Physiol 1:93-122.

I admire scientists who straddle the divide between physics and physiology, and who are comfortable with both mathematics and medicine. In particular, I am interested in how such interdisciplinary scientists are trained. Many, like myself, are educated in physics and subsequently shift focus to biology. But more remarkable are those (such as Helmholtz and Einthoven) who begin in biology and later contribute to physics.

Obituary of Harry H. Pennes.

Which brings me to Harry Pennes. Below I reproduce his obituary published in the April 1964 issue of the American Journal of Psychiatry (Volume 120, Page 1030).

Dr. Harry H. Pennes.—Dr. Harry H. Pennes [born 1918], who had been active in clinical work and research in psychiatry and neurology died in November, 1963, at his home in New York City at the age of 45. Dr. Pennes had worked with Dr. Paul H. Hoch and Dr. James Cattell at the Psychiatric Institute of New York Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center on new techniques of research and medical experimentation.

Dr. Pennes was born in Philadelphia and studied medicine at the University of Pennsylvania where he received a degree in 1942. In 1944 he came to New York to do research at the Neurological Institute. Soon afterward he took a two-year residency at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, and he later joined the staff as Senior Research Psychiatrist. He was also the Research Associate in Psychiatry at Columbia University. At Morris Plains, N. J., Dr. Pennes participated in intensive studies in the Columbia-Greystone Brain Research Project. He did research into chemical warfare from 1953 to 1955 at the Army Chemical Center in Maryland. Later, in Philadelphia, he was Director of Clinical Research for the Eastern Pennsylvania Psychiatric Institute for several years. He subsequently returned to New York a few years ago and resumed private practice.

First page of Wissler (1998).

Before we discuss what’s in his obituary, consider what’s not in it: physics, mathematics, or engineering. Yet, today Pennes is remembered primarily for his landmark contribution to biological physics: the bioheat equation. Russ Hobbie and I analyze this equation in Section 14.11 of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology. In an article titled “Pennes’ 1948 Paper Revisited” (Journal of Applied Physiology, Volume 85, Pages 35-41, 1998), Eugene Wissler wrote:

It can be argued that one of the most influential articles ever published in the Journal of Applied Physiology is the “Analysis of tissue and arterial blood temperatures in the resting human forearm” by Harry H. Pennes, which appeared in Volume 1, No. 2, published in August, 1948. Pennes measured the radial temperature distribution in the forearm by pulling fine thermocouples through the arms of nine recumbent subjects. He also conducted an extensive survey of forearm skin temperature and measured rectal and brachial arterial temperatures. The purpose of Pennes’ study was “to evaluate the applicability of heat flow theory to the forearm in basic terms of the local rate of tissue heat production and volume flow of blood.” An important feature of Pennes’ approach is that his microscopic thermal energy balance for perfused tissue is linear, which means that the equation is amenable to analysis by various methods commonly used to solve the heat-conduction equation. Consequently, it has been adopted by many authors who have developed mathematical models of heat transfer in the human. For example, I used the Pennes equation to analyze digital cooling in 1958 and developed a whole body human thermal model in 1961. The equation proposed by Pennes is now generally known either as the bioheat equation or as the Pennes equation.

So, how did a psychiatrist make a fundamental contribution to physics? I don’t know. Indeed, I have many questions about this fascinating man.

1. Did he work together with a mathematician? No. Pennes was the sole author on the paper. There was no acknowledgment thanking a physicist friend or an engineer buddy. The evidence suggests the work was done by Pennes alone.
2. Did he merely apply an existing model? No. He was the first to include a term in the heat equation to account for convection by flowing blood. He cited a previous study by Gagge et al., but their model was far simpler than his. He didn’t just adopt an existing equation, but rather developed a new and powerful mathematical model. 
3. Was the mathematics elementary? No. He solved the heat equation in cylindrical coordinates. The solution of this partial differential equation included Bessel functions with imaginary arguments (aka modified Bessel functions). He didn’t cite a reference about these functions, but introduced them as if they were obvious.
4. Was his paper entirely theoretical? No. The paper was primarily experimental and the math appeared late in the article when interpreting the results. 
5. Were the experiments easy? No, but they were a little gross. They required threading thermocouples through the arm with no anesthesia. Pennes claimed the “phlegmatic subjects occasionally reported no unusual pain.” I wonder what the nonphlegmatic subjects reported?
6. Was Pennes’s undergraduate degree in physics? I don’t know.
7. Did Pennes’s interest in math arise late in his career? No. His famous 1948 paper was submitted a few weeks before his 30th birthday.
8. Did Pennes work at an institution out of the mainstream that might promote unusual or quirky career paths? No. Pennes worked at Columbia University’s College of Physicians and Surgeons, one of the oldest and most respected medical schools in the country.
9. Did Pennes pick up new skills while in the military? Probably not. He was 23 years old when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, but I can’t find any evidence he served in the military during World War II. He earned his medical degree in 1942 and arrived at Columbia in 1944.  
10. Do other papers published by Pennes suggest an expertise in math? I doubt it. I haven’t read them all, but most study how drugs affect the brain. In fact, his derivation of the bioheat equation seems so out-of-place that I’ve entertained the notion there were two researchers named Harry H. Pennes at Columbia University.
11. Did Pennes’ subsequent career take advantage of his math skills? Again, I am not sure but my guess is no. The Columbia-Greystone Brain Project is famous for demonstrating that lobotomies are not an effective treatment of brain disorders. Research on chemical warfare should require expertise in toxicology. 
12. How did Pennes die? According to Wikipedia he committed suicide. What a tragic loss of a still-young scientist!

I fear my analysis of Harry Pennes provides little insight into how biologists or medical doctors can contribute to physics, mathematics, or engineering. If you know more about Pennes’s life and career, please contact me (roth@oakland.edu).

Even though Harry Pennes’s legacy is the bioheat equation, my guess is that he would’ve been shocked that we now think of him as a biological physicist.

Craps

Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology

.

This week I spent three days in Las Vegas.

I know you’ll be shocked...shocked!...to hear there is gambling going on in Vegas. If you want to improve your odds of winning, you need to understand probability. Russ Hobbie and I discuss probability in Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology. The most engaging way to introduce the subject is through analyzing games of chance. I like to choose a game that is complicated enough to be interesting, but simple enough to explain in one class. A particularly useful game for teaching probability is craps.

The rules: Throw two dice. If you role a seven or eleven you win. If you role a two, three, or twelve you lose. If you role anything else you keep rolling until you either “make your point” (get the same number that you originally rolled) and win, or “crap out” (roll a seven) and lose.

Two laws are critical for any probability calculation.

1. For independent events, the probability of both event A and event B occurring is the product of the individual probabilities: P(A and B) = P(A) P(B).
2. For mutually exclusive events, the probability of either event A or event B occurring is the sum of the individual probabilities: P(A or B) = P(A) + P(B).

Snake Eyes.

For instance, if you roll a single die, the probability of getting a one is 1/6. If you roll two dice (independent events), the probability of getting a one on the first die and a one on the second (snake eyes) is (1/6) (1/6) = 1/36. If you roll just one die, the probability of getting either a one or a two (mutually exclusive events) is 1/6 + 1/6 = 1/3. Sometimes these laws operate together. For instance, what are the odds of rolling a seven with two dice? There are six ways to do it: roll a one on the first die and a six on the second die (1,6), or (2,5), or (3,4), or (4,3), or (5,2), or (6,1). Each way has a probability of 1/36 (the two dice are independent) and the six ways are mutually exclusive, so the probability of a seven is 1/36 + 1/36 + 1/36 + 1/36 + 1/36 + 1/36 = 6/36 = 1/6.

Boxcars.

Now let’s analyze craps. The probability of winning immediately is 6/36 for a seven plus 2/36 for an eleven (a five and a six, or a six and a five), for a total of 8/36 = 2/9 = 22%. The probability of losing immediately is 1/36 for a two, plus 2/36 for a three, plus 1/36 for a twelve (boxcars), for a total of 4/36 = 1/9 = 11%. The probability of continuing to roll is….we could work it out, but the sum of the probabilities must equal 1 so a shortcut is to just calculate 1 – 2/9 – 1/9 = 6/9 = 2/3 = 67%.

The case when you continue rolling gets interesting. For each additional roll, you have three possibilities:

1. Make you point and win with probability a, 
2. Crap out and lose with probability b, or 
3. Roll again with probability c.

What is the probability that, if you keep rolling, you make your point before crapping out? You could make your point on the first additional roll with probability a; you could roll once and then roll again and make your point on the second additional roll with probability ca; you could have three additional rolls and make your point on the third one with probability cca, etc. The total probability of making your point is a + ca + cca + … = a (1 + c + c² + …). The quantity in parentheses is the geometric series, and can be evaluated in closed form: 1 + c + c² + … = 1/(1 - c). The probability of making your point is therefore a/(1 - c). We know that one of the three outcomes must occur, so a + b + c = 1 and the odds of making your point can be expressed equivalently as a/(a + b). If your original roll was a four, then a = 3/36. The chance of getting a seven is b = 6/36. So, a/(a + b) = 3/9 = 1/3 or 33%. If your original roll was a five, then a = 4/36 and the odds of making your point is 4/10 = 40%. If your original roll was a six, the likelihood of making your point is 5/11 = 45%. You can work out the probabilities for 8, 9, and 10, but you’ll find they are the same as for 6, 5, and 4.

Now we have all we need to determine the probability of winning at craps. We have a 2/9 chance of rolling a seven or eleven immediately, plus a 3/36 chance of rolling a four originally followed by the odds of making your point of 1/3, plus…I will just show it as an equation.

P(winning) = 2/9 + 2 [ (3/36) (1/3) + (4/36) (4/10) + (5/36) (5/11) ] = 49.3 % .

The probability of losing would be difficult to work out from first principles, but we can take the easy route and calculate P(losing) = 1 – P(winning) = 50.7 %.

The chance of winning is almost even, but not quite. The odds are stacked slightly against you. If you play long enough, you will almost certainly lose on average. That is how casinos in Las Vegas make their money. The odds are close enough to 50-50 that players have a decent chance of coming out ahead after a few games, which makes them willing to play. But when averaged over thousands of players every day, the casino always wins.

Lady Luck, by Warren Weaver.

I hope this analysis helps you better understand probability. Once you master the basic rules, you can calculate other quantities more relevant to biological physics, such as temperature, entropy, and the Boltzmann factor (for more, see Chapter 3 of IPMB). When I teach statistical thermodynamics or quantum mechanics, I analyze craps on the first day of class. I arrive early and kneel in a corner of the room, throwing dice against the wall. As students come in, I invite them over for a game. It's a little creepy, but by the time class begins the students know the rules and are ready to start calculating. If you want to learn more about probability (including a nice description of craps), I recommend Lady Luck by Warren Weaver.

I stayed away from the craps table in Vegas. The game is fast paced and there are complicated side bets you can make along the way that we did not consider. Instead, I opted for blackjack, where I turned $20 into $60 and then quit. I did not play the slot machines, which are random number generators with flashing lights, bells, and whistles attached. I am told they have worse odds than blackjack or craps.

The trip to Las Vegas was an adventure. My daughter Stephanie turned 30 on the trip (happy birthday!) and acted as our tour guide. We stuffed ourselves at one of the buffets, wandered about Caesar’s Palace, and saw the dancing fountains in front of the Bellagio. The show Tenors of Rock at Harrah's was fantastic. We did some other stuff too, but let’s not go into that (What Happens in Vegas stays in Vegas).

A giant flamingo at the Flamingo.

The High Roller Observation Wheel.

Two Pina Coladas, one for each hand.

Sepulveda, Roth and Wikswo (1989): How to Write a Scientific Paper

In 1989, Nestor Sepulveda, John Wikswo and I published “Current Injection into a Two-Dimensional Anisotropic Bidomain” (Biophysical Journal, 55:987–999). Of my papers, this is one of my favorites.

When I teach my graduate Bioelectric Phenomena class here at Oakland University, we study the Sepulveda et al. (1989) article. The primary goal of the class is to introduce students to bioelectricity, but a secondary goal is to analyze how to write scientific papers. When we get to our paper, I let students learn the scientific content from the publication itself. Instead, I use class time to analyze scientific writing. The paper lends itself to this task: It is written well enough to serve as an example of technical writing, but it is written poorly enough to illustrate how writing can be improved. Critically tearing apart the writing of someone else’s paper in front of students would be rude, but because this writing is partly mine I don’t feel guilty.

Many readers of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology will eventually write papers of their own, so in this post I share my analysis of scientific writing just as I present it in class. Students read “Current Injection into a Two-Dimensional Anisotropic Bidomain” in advance, and then during class we go through the writing page by page, and often line by line, using a powerpoint presentation that I have placed on the IPMB website. I use the “animation” feature of powerpoint so edits, revisions, and corrections can be considered one at a time. To see for yourself, download the powerpoint and click “slide show.” Then, start using the right arrow to analyze the paper.

A screen shot of the first page of the powerpoint. It looks a mess, but the animation feature lets you consider all these suggestions one by one. You can download it and use it to teach your students.

When using this powerpoint, keep these points in mind:

• One reason I use Sepulveda et al. (1989) as my example is that it has the classic format of a scientific paper: Introduction, Methods, Results, and Discussion. It also contains an Abstract, References, and other sections of a scientific publication. 
• Often I highlight a sentence or two of text and ask students to revise and improve it. If you are leading a class using this powerpoint, stop and let the students struggle with the revision. Then compare their revised text with mine. The class should be interactive.
• I have talked before in this blog about the importance of writing. In the powerpoint, I mention two publications that have helped me become a better writer. First is Strunk and White’s book Elements of Style. The powerpoint illustrates much of their advice—such as their famous admonition to “omit needless words”—with concrete examples. You can read Elements of Style online here. Second is N. David Mermin’s essay “What’s Wrong with These Equations” published in Physics Today (download it here). Mermin explains how to integrate math with prose, and introduces the “Good Samaritan Rule” (remind your reader what an equation is about when you refer to it, rather than just saying “Eq. 4”) and other concepts. 
• Some of the points raised in my powerpoint are trivial, such as the difference between “there,” “their,” and “they’re.” Others are more substantial, such as sentence construction and clarity. I find it takes most of a 90 minute class to finish the whole thing. 
• On the sixth page of the powerpoint I have a note reminding me to “Tell Story.” The story is one I wrote about in the original version of my paper “Art Winfree and the Bidomain Model of Cardiac Tissue.” “Nestor Sepulveda, a research assistant professor from Columbia who was working in John [Wikswo]'s lab, had written a finite element computer program that we modified to do bidomain calculations. One of the first simulations he performed was of the transmembrane potential induced in a two-dimensional sheet of cardiac tissue having 'unequal anisotropy ratios' (different degrees of anisotropy in the intracellular and extracellular spaces). Much to our surprise, Nestor found that when he stimulated the tissue through a small cathodal electrode, depolarization (a positive transmembrane potential) appeared under the electrode, but hyperpolarization (a negative transmembrane potential) appeared near the electrode along the fiber direction (Fig. 2). The depolarization was stronger in the direction perpendicular to the fibers, giving those voltage contour lines a shape that John named the ‘dogbone.’ Only Nestor understood the details of his finite element code, and I was a bit worried that his program might contain a bug that caused this weird result. So I quietly returned to my office and developed an entirely different numerical scheme, using Fourier transforms, to do the same calculation. Of course, I got the same result Nestor did (there was no bug). Although I didn’t realize it then, I would spend the next 15 years exploring the implications of Nestor’s result.” During class, I often take off on tangents telling old  “war stories” like this. I can’t help myself.
• John Wikswo, my coauthor and PhD dissertation advisor, is still active, and he and I continue to collaborate. I learned much about scientific writing from him, but our writing styles are different and he might not agree with all the suggestions in the powerpoint. Tragically, Nestor Sepulveda has passed away; a great loss for bioelectricity research. I miss him.
• If you are teaching and want to discuss how to write a scientific paper, feel free to use this powerpoint. I encourage you to download it and modify it to suit your needs. Students could even use it for self study, although they would not see some essential hand waving.

Although the powerpoint suggests many changes to the Sepulveda et al. (1989) paper, I nevertheless consider that article to be a success. According to Google Scholar, it has been cited 379 times. I believe it had an impact on the field of pacing and defibrillation of the heart. Overall, I am proud of the writing.

Let me close by emphasizing that writing is an art. Your style might not be the same as mine. Take my suggestions in the powerpoint as just that: suggestions. Yet, whether or not you agree with my suggestions, I believe your students will benefit by going through the process of revising a scientific paper. It’s the next best thing to assigning them to write their own paper. Enjoy!

Suki Roth (2002-2018)

Suki Roth (2002-2018).

Regular readers of this blog are familiar with my dog Suki, who I’ve mentioned in more than a dozen posts. Suki passed away this week. She was a wonderful dog and I miss her dearly.

Suki and I used to take long walks when I would listen to audio books, such as The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Musicophilia, Destiny of the Republic, Galileo’s Daughter, and First American: The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin. This list just scratches the surface. On my Goodreads account, I have a category called “listened-to-while-dog-walking” that includes 84 books, all of which Suki and I enjoyed together. 

In my post about the Physics of Phoxhounds, I mentioned that a photo of Suki and me (right) was included in Barb Oakley’s book A Mind for Numbers: How to Excel at Math and Science (Even if You Flunked Algebra). Recently I learned that Barb’s book has sold over 250,000 copies, making Suki something of a celebrity.

Suki helped me explain concepts from Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology, such as age-related hearing loss and the biomechanics of fleas. Few people knew that she had this secret career in biomedical education!

Thanks to Dr. Kelly Totin, and before her Dr. Ann Callahan, and all the folks at Rochester Veterinary Hospital for taking such good care of Suki. In particular I appreciate Dr. Totin’s help during Suki’s last, difficult days. As she said near the end, her focus was on the quality of Suki’s time left rather than the quantity; an important life lesson for us all.

I’ll close with a quote from one of my favorite authors, James Herriot. In his story “The Card Over The Bed,” the dying Miss Stubbs asks Herriot, a Yorkshire vet, if she will see her pets in heaven. She was worried because she had heard claims that animals have no soul. Herriot responded “If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans. You’ve nothing to worry about there.”

Suki resting.

Suki with her nephew Auggie.

Suki with all five editions of IPMB.

Suki (right), her niece Smokie (the Greyhound, center),
and her nephew Auggie (the Foxhound, left),
about to get treats from my wife Shirley.

Suki and me, 15 years ago.

Young Suki

Intermediate Physicist for Medicine and Biology

In my more contemplative moments, I sometimes ponder: who am I? Or perhaps better: what am I? In my personal life I am many things: son, husband, father, brother, dog-lover, die-hard Cubs fan, Asimov aficionado, Dickens devotee, and mid-twentieth-century-Broadway-musical-theatre admirer.

What I am professionally is not as clear. By training I’m a physicist. Each month I read Physics Today and my favorite publication is the American Journal of Physics. But in many ways I don’t fit well in physics. I don’t understand much of what’s said at our weekly physics colloquium, and I have little or no interest in topics such as high energy physics. Quantum mechanics frightens me.

The term biophysicist doesn’t apply to me, because I don’t work at the microscopic level. I don’t care about protein structures or DNA replication mechanisms. I’m a macroscopic guy.

My work overlaps that of biomedical engineers, and indeed I publish frequently in biomedical engineering journals. But my work is not applied enough for engineering. In the 1990s, when searching desperately for a job, I considered positions in biomedical engineering departments, but I was never sure what I would teach. I have no idea what’s taught in engineering schools. Ultimately I decided that I fit better in a physics department.

Mathematical biologist is a better definition of me. I build mathematical models of biological systems for a living. But I’m at heart neither a mathematician nor a biologist. I find math papers—full of  theorem-proof-theorem-proof—to be tedious. Biologists celebrate life’s diversity, which is exactly the part of biology I like to sweep under the rug.

I’m not a medical physicist. Nothing I have worked on has healed anyone. Besides, medical physicists work in nuclear medicine and radiation therapy departments at hospitals, and they get paid a lot more that I do. No, I’m definitely not a medical physicist. Perhaps one of the most appropriate labels is biological physicist—whatever that means.

Another question is: at what level do I work? I’m not a popularizer of science or a science writer (except when writing this blog, which is more of a hobby; my “Hobbie hobby”). I write research papers and publish them in professional journals. Yet, in these papers I build toy models that are as simple as possible (but no simpler!). Reviewers of my manuscripts write things like “the topic is interesting and the paper is well-written, but the model is too simple; it fails to capture the underlying complexity of the system.” When my simple models grow too complicated, I change direction and work on something else. So my research is neither at an introductory level nor an advanced level.

I guess the best label for me is: Intermediate Physicist for Medicine and Biology.

Five Generations

A five generation picture.

When my first daughter Stephanie was born, we included her in this photo of five generations. From left to right are my maternal grandmother, my great-grandmother (born 1889), my daughter Stephanie (born 1988), me, and my mom. My great grandmother lived to be over 100 years old. I remember playing poker with her when I was young; she generally won and kept the money!

All five editions of
Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

Recently I took another five-generation photo. There now exist five generations (editions) of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology. My office is one of the few places you can find all five on one bookshelf. I was coauthor on the fourth and fifth editions; the first three editions were authored by Russ Hobbie alone.

Suki with all five editions of
Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

The yellow book is the first edition of IPMB, published by John Wiley and Sons in 1978. The blue version with the yellow sine wave on the cover is the second edition, again published by Wiley in 1988. The green cover is the third edition, published by Springer with AIP Press in 1997. The blue fourth edition was published by Springer alone in 2007. Finally, the blue/purple fifth edition, again published by Springer, appeared in 2015. My dog Suki seems to like them all.

All five editions of
Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

I have a special fondness for the first edition, which I bought for a class taught by my PhD advisor John Wikswo at Vanderbilt University in the early 1980s (price: $31.95). That is where I learned much of my biological and medical physics. When Russ was preparing the second edition, he asked John and I to create some three-dimensional figures of the electrical potential and magnetic field of a nerve axon. There figures have appeared in each subsequent edition of IPMB, and are Figs. 7.13 and 8.14 in the fifth. My third edition is pretty beat up. It is the textbook I taught out of for several years after I arrived at Oakland University. The fourth and fifth editions I know best, as I helped write them (although Russ remains the primary force behind every edition).

All five editions of
Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

IPMB has changed over the years. The first seven chapters are the same in all versions, but Russ added chapters on charged membranes and biomagnetism in the second edition. The first edition’s chapter on signal analysis split into two in the second: one on one-dimensional signal analysis and another on two-dimensional images. The 4th edition picked up a chapter on ultrasound. The first edition’s chapter on x-rays fissioned into a chapter on how x-rays interact with tissue and a chapter on the medical uses of x-rays. Finally, the second edition introduced a chapter on magnetic resonance imaging. Early editions featured a figure on the cover. I particularly like the first edition’s electrocardiogram picture (Fig. 7.16 in the 5th edition). Russ and I planned on using a computed tomography illustration, Fig. 12.12, on the 4th edition cover, but Springer opted to use a generic cover with no figure.

Me holding all five editions of
Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

Working on revisions of IPMB has been a pleasure and an honor. But really, the five generations of IPMB is a tribute to Russ Hobbie and his vision of advancing the teaching of physics in medicine and biology, which he has pursued over nearly four decades. I hope you find the book as useful as I have.

Trivial Pursuit IPMB

Trivial Pursuit.

Trivial Pursuit is a popular and fun board game invented in the 1980s. While playing it, you learn many obscure facts (trivial, really).

When my daughter Kathy was in high school, she would sometimes test out of a subject by studying over the summer and then taking an exam. Occasionally I would help her study by skimming through her textbook and creating Trivial Pursuit-like questions. We would then play Trivial Pursuit using my questions instead of those from the game. I don’t know if it helped her learn, but she always passed those exams.

Readers of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology may want a similar study aid to help them learn about biological and medical physics. Now they have it! At the book website you can download 100 game cards for Trivial Pursuit: IPMB. To play, you will need the game board, game pieces, and instructions of the original Trivial Pursuit, but you replace the game cards by the ones I wrote.

The game pieces for Trivial Pursuit.

In case you have never played, here are the rules in a nutshell. The board has a circle with spots of six colors. You roll a die and move your game piece around the circle, landing on the spots. Your opponent asks you a question about a topic determined by the color. If you answer correctly you roll again; if you are wrong your opponent rolls. There are special larger spots where a correct answer gets you get a little colored wedge. The first person to get all six colored wedges wins.

The original version of Trivial Pursuit had topics such as sports or literature. The Trivial Pursuit: IPMB topics are

• Numbers and Units (blue)
• People (pink)
• Anatomy and Physiology (yellow)
• Biological Physics (brown)
• Medical Physics (green)
• Mathematics (orange).

One challenge of an interdisciplinary subject like medical and biological physics is that you need a broad range of knowledge. I suspect mathematicians will find the math questions to be simple, but the biologists may find them difficult. Physicists may be unfamiliar with anatomy and physiology, and chemists may find all the topics hard. The beauty of the game is that it rewards a broad knowledge across disciplines.

A game card for Trivial Pursuit.

Many may find the People section most challenging. I suggest you only require the player to know the person’s last name, although the first name is also given on my game card. In Units and Numbers I generally only require numbers to be known approximately. The goal is to have an order-of-magnitude knowledge of biological parameters and physical constants. Many questions ask you to estimate the size of an object, like in Section 1.1 of IPMB. For the math and physics questions you may need a pencil and paper handy, because some of the questions contain equations. You can’t simply show your opponent the equation on the game card, because both the questions and answers are together. This is unlike the real Trivial Pursuit game cards, which had the answers on the back. Unfortunately, such two-sided cards are difficult to make.

I know the game is not perfect. Some questions are truly trivial and others ask for some esoteric fact that no one would be expected to remember. Some questions may have multiple answers of which only one is on the card. You can either print out the game cards (requiring 100 pieces of paper) or use a laptop or mobile device to view the pdf. I try to avoid repetitions, but with 100 game cards some may have slipped in inadvertently.

Trivial Pursuit.

I may try using Trivial Pursuit: IPMB next time I teach Biological Physics (PHY 325) or Medical Physics (PHY 326) here at Oakland University. It would be excellent for, say, the last day of class, or perhaps a day when I know many students will be absent (such as the Wednesday before Thanksgiving). It doesn’t teach important high-level skills, such as learning to use mathematical models to describe biology, or understanding how physics constrains the way organisms evolve. You can’t teach a complex and beautiful subject like tomography using Trivial Pursuit. But for learning a bunch of facts, the game is useful.

Enjoy!

Strat-O-Matic Baseball

My Die-Hard Cub Fan Club
membership card.

Monday is opening day!

When I was young I was an avid baseball fan. I still enjoy the game, but now I haven’t time to follow it closely. My childhood team was the Chicago Cubs. I can still remember the lineup: shortstop Don Kessinger led off, second baseman Glenn Beckert hit next, left fielder Billy Williams batted third, and third baseman Ron Santo was cleanup. Ferguson Jenkins was the pitching ace, colorful Joe Pepitone—a former Yankee—arrived by trade to play first, Mr. Cub Ernie Banks was in the twilight of his career, and hot-tempered Leo Durochur was the manager. The Miracle Mets broke my heart in 1969, when the Cubs led their division into September only to collapse in the season's final weeks. The Cubs have not won the World Series since 1908, but I still love ’em. Maybe this year?

I wasn’t a good little league player; I struck out a lot, and I was assigned to play right field, where I could do the least damage with my glove. Yet, I had fun. One summer when I was in junior high, because of the timing of the age cutoffs and my birthday, I was nearly the oldest player in my age group. That was my best summer, when I approached mediocrity. I enjoyed the sport so much that I volunteered to manage the high school team. For those not familiar with baseball, being the manager in high school is very different than managing a professional team. In high school, the manager washes the uniforms, keeps track of the equipment, collects player statistics, and—my favorite job—draws the foul lines on the field before each game.

Strat-O-Matic Baseball.

When growing up in Morrison, Illinois, my friend Ted Paul owned the game Strat-O-Matic Baseball. It was played with dice and player cards, allowing you to recreate baseball games from your armchair. Unfortunately, Strat-O-Matic Baseball was expensive. We were not poor, but the price was out of the range my parents spent on birthday or Christmas presents. Necessity is the mother of invention, so I reverse engineered the game, making my own cards and rules that mimicked Strat-O-Matic’s in some ways but in other ways were my own creation.

Homemade Strat-O-Matic baseball cards
from the Oakland A’s, the dominant team
of that era (circa 1973).

In order to make my version of Strat-O-Matic Baseball, I had to learn the basics of probability. I didn’t need advanced concepts, and you can find all the necessary probability theory in Chapter 3 of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology. Two ideas are key. First, the probability that one or the other of two mutually exclusive events happens is found by adding their individual probabilities. For instance, the probability of rolling either a one, two, or three on a single die is equal to the probability of rolling a one plus the probability of rolling a two plus the probability of rolling a three. Second, the probability that two independent events both happen is found by multiplying their individual probabilities. For example, the probability of throwing a one on the first die and a three on the second is equal to the probability of throwing a one times the probability of throwing a three. This concept underlies the joint probability distribution described in Appendix M of IPMB. These two rules, plus some counting, is all the math required to recreate Strat-O-Matic baseball. I also needed a source of baseball statistics, supplied by Street and Smith’s Baseball Yearbook, published each year around Valentine's Day and well within the family gift budget. In retrospect, making my own version of Strat-O-Matic Baseball was not difficult, but for a twelve-year-old kid I think I did a pretty good job.

Let me explain briefly how Strat-O-Matic Baseball works. The game was based on batters’ cards and pitchers’ cards. First you roll one die, and if you get a 1, 2, or 3 you use the batter’s card; a 4, 5, or 6 means you use the pitcher's card. Then you roll two dice which determine the outcome of the at-bat: out, walk, single, double, triple, or home run. The trick is to match the player’s statistics to the probability of a particular throw of the dice. The pitchers’ cards were hardest to create, because Street and Smith didn’t tabulate batting averages given up by pitchers, so I had to invent an algorithm based on wins, earned run average, and strikeouts. I remember spending many hours playing my homemade Strat-O-Matic baseball. In some ways it was pathetic: a child playing alone in his room with just his dice and cards. But in other ways it was romantic: thrilling late night ballgames with all the drama and excitement of sports, but performed just for me.

Even now, when I teach probability I focus on those key concepts I used when creating my version of Strat-O-Matic Baseball. Sometimes you learn more when you play than when you work.

The Rest of the Story

Alan was born 102 years ago today in Banbury, England. He was descended from a long line of Quakers. Quakers are often pacifists, so Alan’s dad George didn’t fight in World War I. Instead, he took part in a relief effort in the Middle East. But war is dangerous even if you are not in the line of fire, and George died of dysentery in Baghdad when Alan was only four.

Alan’s mom was left to raise him and his two brothers alone. She encouraged Alan’s interest in science, and so did his eccentric Aunt Katie who took him bird watching. When he was 15, Alan was hired by a ornithologist to survey rookeries and heronries. He spent hours searching for rare birds in salt marshes. All this kindled his passion for learning.

Based on his strong academic record, Alan won a scholarship to study botony, zoology, and chemistry at Trinity College, part of the University of Cambridge. One of Cambridge’s distinguished zoologists gave Alan some good advice: study as much physics and mathematics as you can! So he did. He also did what all undergraduates should do: research. He was good at it; so good that he was awarded a Rockefeller Fellowship to go to New York for a year. He kept at his research, and traveled around to other parts of the United States, such as Massachusetts and Saint Louis, to learn more.

When he got back to Cambridge, Alan’s knowledge of physics allowed him to build his own equipment, enabling him to move his research in exciting directions. He and his collaborators began to get dramatic results. Just when he was on the verge of making decisive discoveries, Hitler marched into Poland and the world was at war again.

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Alan suspended his own research and dedicated his talents to defeating the Germans. The Battle of Britain was won, in part, by the development of radar. Alan worked on a special type of radar that was installed in airplanes and used by RAF fighter pilots to locate and intercept Luftwaffe bombers. Alan and a small group of scientists toiled frantically, working seven days a week. They risked their lives on test flights in planes fitted with the new radar. For six years, during what should have been a young scientist’s most productive period, Alan set aside his own interests to help the Allies win the war.

Once World War II ended, Alan returned to Cambridge. After all this time, had science passed him by? No! He took up his research where he had left off, and started making groundbreaking discoveries in electrophysiology. With his coworkers, Alan figured out how nerves send signals down their axons, first passing sodium ions through the cell membrane and then passing potassium ions.

In 1963, Alan Hodgkin received the 1963 Noble Prize for Physiology or Medicine for discovering the ionic mechanism of nerve excitation.

And now you know THE REST OF THE STORY. Good day!

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This blog post was written in the style of Paul Harvey’s wonderful “The Rest of the Story” radio program. The content is based on Hodgkin’s autobiography Chance and Design: Reminiscences of Science in Peace and War. You can read about Hodgkin's work on electrophysiology—including Hodgkin and Huxley’s famous mathematical model of the nerve action potential—in Chapter 6 of Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology.

Happy birthday, Alan Hodgkin!