David Jack

One hundred years of aspirin

taken to be malaria) with 20 grains (about 1 g) of powdered willow bark in a dram of water every 4 hours. Stone had become interested in willow bark because, at least partly, of the ancient Doctrine of Signatures whereby the cause of disease offers a clue to its treatment. According to Stone: “As this tree delights in a moist or wet soil, where agues chiefly abound, the general maxim that many natural maladies carry their cures along with them or that their remedies lie not far from their causes was so very apposite to this particular case that I could not help applying it; and that this might be the intention of Providence here, I must own, had some little weight with me”. However, the first proper clinical trial is usually credited to the Dundee physician, Thomas MacLagan, who took 2 g of salicin and, experiencing no ill-effects, gave it to patients with acute rheumatism. He obtained complete remission of the fever and joint inflammation. MacLagan was also influenced by the Doctrine of Signatures for he wrote in his report to The Lancet in 1876:

DNALTOCS ROF REVE—KO?

What or who is the greatest love of your life? My wife tells me it is work, or our Jack Russell terrier (now deceased). It is strange how, now and again, your (well my) mind seems to go slightly out of control, a bit like a car swerving suddenly on a long straight road. I remember being very impressed the first time I came across the words of the 17th century poet, John Dryden: “Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide”. Now, while I would not put myself forward as a great wit (and most of my friends would rush forward in support of this), I have felt that there have been times when I have been about to “lose it”, if I can use the technical psychiatric term. Now I know that lots of people give psychiatrists a wide berth at parties or other social occasions, fearing they will be analysed as they chat pleasantly over a glass of sweet sherry. I have always believed this to be absolute nonsense. After all, would you expect a dermatologist to be giving the state of your skin the once over at a party or a neurologist straining to pick up the first signs of dementia? No way! In fact I have always sought out the company of psychiatrists at social gatherings. They are never difficult to spot since in any medical group they are the bearded guys wearing black leather jackets. OK, some of them may have smartened themselves up and shaved for their frequent television appearances, but mentally they are still in leather. My affliction, which still surfaces from time to time, is a compulsion to read things backwards. Psychiatrists must have a name for this—probably something like “RCD, retrolegeric compulsive disorder”, but every time I ask them at parties they just give me a funny look and quickly move off. I often indulge in RCD to pass the time when stuck in traffic jams or riding on buses, but every now and again it threatens to take over my life and I have to fight to contain it. However, there is a positive side to this condition, and I feel that it has given me insight into certain people and things. After all, as far as the 1970s singer and entertainer Val Doonican is concerned, I now see his oeuvre in a completely new light when I think of him as Lav Nacinood. In addition, I can abuse people loudly without giving offence. Only my closest friends know what I mean when I announced publicly that Dr X is “a complete dratsab”. I even remember being in an Edinburgh pub with a bunch of Americans, and, on being asked to lift my glass and say something very Scottish, I stood up and proclaimed “Dnaltocs rof reve”. They seemed quite happy when I told them this was an ancient Celtic toast. Is there a cure for my condition? Well, to be honest, at the moment I don’t want a cure because I think I can handle it (where have we heard that one before?). However, I do have a fall-back option if it really does get out of hand. I have not actually tried it but I have great hopes of success. Years ago someone realised that we read books in a very inefficient fashion, getting to the end of one line then sweeping back across the page and down to the next one. The solution was simple, read from left to right along a line and then at the end of it drop directly down to the next line and then read back across the page from right to left, the line having been reversed to make this possible. This printing technique is called “boustrophedon” (the way of the ox) since it resembles the path taken by a farmer ploughing a field. I feel that a spell reading a book printed in this way might contain my disorder if not cure it.Tell me I am right!

Lumsden shall not die

David Weatherall After qualifying in Liverpool, National Service in Southeast Asia and 4 years at Johns Hopkins Hospital, David Weatherall returned to Liverpool as Professor of haematology. Later he moved to Oxford, first as Nuffield Professor of clinical medicine and then as Regius Professor of medicine. In his spare time he directs the MRC Molecular Haematology Unit and the Institute of Molecular Medicine. LIFELINE