Patient with Pain

Patience is an over-rated virtue that is hard to exercise…especially when you are waiting… or when you don’t have the time for it. Other factors that don’t help the cause are when you know you will be poked, knocked down and sliced through. Last Friday didn’t begin too well. I woke up to the abdominal pain from the previous evening. It had come out of the blue and since I did not have any food poisoning symptoms by morning, I brushed it off as an exaggerated form of gastritis. I reasoned that if I ignored it long enough, it would go away. But it lingered on and became worse by the time I was ready to leave for lab.

On one of the rare occasions that I chose to heed to common sense, I decided not to bike and walked slowly to the bus stop. As Murphy’s law (anything that can go wrong, will go wrong) had been invoked for the day, the bus was nowhere in sight. Given the subjectivity of public transport schedules, I waited for a full 15 mins before dragging my unyielding feet half a mile to the next stop. Another bus was due here in half hour, give or take 15 minutes, usually the latter. Sometimes I think that the psychology department of University of California, Irvine (UCI) has outsourced a project to Orange County Transport Authority (OCTA) to observe “bus rage” in commuters subjected to chronic wait-times. An hour and fifteen minutes since I left home, I was in lab. After all that trouble to get there I decided I would rather be somewhere else. I don’t believe in gut feelings, but today it wanted to be 5 miles away from the lab. So, the ailing gut and I walked down the winding paths of the green Aldrich Park, to the bus stop on campus. During another wait for an hour, I was determined not to be upset by small details.

When I entered Kaiser Permanente Medical Building, it was lunch time and the doctors were away. The earliest appointment that I could get was 90 mins away, but a nurse attended me within 10 mins. After she checked my vitals, I told her about the tenderness in my abdomen and the pain, which had become excruciating by now. She consulted with a doctor and between them, they decided that since I had a cough for two weeks, they would check my lungs first. From my high school anatomy days, I remembered that the lungs were in the thoracic cavity. I had pain in my lower right abdomen. But then again, I am not a real doctor! The nurse, after ruling out my lungs as the villain, recorded blood pressure when I was lying down, sitting up straight and while standing. Dr. Stephanie pronounced that I should go to the Emergency Care without delay to check on my abdominal pain. My boss, Susana, drove me to the Kaiser Permanente ER, a few blocks away.

After a brief 20 min wait at ER, I was registered with an identity wrist band and taken into the sanctum of ER. I had only noticed them on American television before, but this one looked pretty lame and deserted to me. I guess Irvine lives up to its name as one of the safest cities in US. Nurse Robert asked me to change into a gown and checked my vitals again. Everything was normal. Dr. Shapiro, the attending doctor in ER, was a very nice elderly chap. He was very apologetic when he prodded and pained my abdomen. He ordered some blood and urine tests right away. When he asked me when my last meal was, I realized that it was 8 long hrs ago, at 7.30 am. I had not felt hungry till then, and all of a sudden I had this irresistible urge to bite into something. He told me that it will have to wait and put me on saline drips. I was parched and requested Robert for some water. He was generous with two small pieces of crushed ice. No water or food. And then to drive home the point that he was serious, he extracted some blood. Since I had to wait, I decided I will read for a while to keep my thoughts away from pain. Robert handed me the book from my bag and we both smiled. The book was apt – “Why Sh*t Happens, The Science of a really Bad Day” by Peter Bentley. It is an interesting read and I strongly recommend it, but I couldn’t go beyond a few lines. It wasn’t the book that hurt.

My wife, Ramya, had told me earlier in the morning that it might be appendicitis…I had laughed… and it had stung. Then Dr. Stephanie thought so too. Susana opined the same during our brief ride to ER. It is hard enough to get two women to agree on the same thing at any given time. If three do, with all due respects, that is as sure a hex as they conjure them at Eastwick :) Although it was always at the back of my mind due to the nature of the pain, somehow I had not considered it a serious candidate. Appendicitis normally starts as a generic pain through out the abdomen before honing on to the right side of the area. Mine started off there without any history. I called Ramya to notify the situation…she had been up the whole night, calling me every now and then to check up on me. I also called my labmate, Adhanet, to update her.

Dr. Shapiro walked in with the lab results, which were all normal, except for some increased bilirubin. He wanted me to get an X-ray done as well as an ultrasound. Ernest, the nurse from radiology wheeled in the bed to the X-ray room. Part of me wanted to shout excitedly “faster, faster”! But the agonizingly aching part said that I should just close my eyes, rest and enjoy the ride. The hallways were all decked up with Christmas decorations. I commented about them and Ernest asked me if I was having a good time in the hospital. I strained my neck to see if he was joking. He looked like he was living up to the way his name sounded. The ultrasound was another painful experience that lasted for about 15 mins. At around 6.00 pm, I was wheeled back into Consulation Room 6.

The X-ray had not shown any calcification in the appendix and the ultrasound had not revealed any inflammation of the suspected organ. Dr. Shapiro drew me a cartoon of the abdominal cavity and explained to me why it was sometimes difficult to visualize appendix in an ultrasound. It sits snuggly behind the large intestine. I told him and the surgeon, Dr. Lilian Estrada-Linder, that I was not willing to go through an exploratory surgery, without any factual evidence to back up. She said that she had 20 years of experience in surgery and I had all the classic symptoms of appendicitis. I could wait for a CT scan but that would delay the inevitable surgery by a day and expose me to unnecessary radiation. After pondering over, I agreed for an appendectomy. I asked her to explain the entire procedure and signed away my rights to the vestigial organ that would be removed shortly.

I was taken to the second floor for surgery and greeted by Dr. Tiwari, the anesthesiologist and Dr. Stacy, an assistant surgeon. I think they both had a bet about how my first name was pronounced. I didn’t know what was at stake and I certainly didn’t want a sore loser against me. I told them to call me Sri. This was no time for formality. He would put me down shortly and she would cut me open later. One of the other surgeons came and prepared me for the surgery by pasting in biometric readers to various parts of the body. They reconfirmed one last time that I was indeed who I was before Dr. Stacy injected Fentanyl and some muscle relaxant to put me off to sleep. I was wheeled off and taken to OR. The last thing I remember was that I was put on the operating table/bed.

I never saw Dr. Estrada-Linder that night. But from what she had explained me earlier, I was operated laparoscopically. At some point of time after I lost consciousness, Dr. Tiwari would maintain the anesthesia with a mixture of oxygen, nitrous oxide and sevoflurane. Dr. Estrada-Linder would make three incisions – a 1.5 cm incision above the navel and two smaller 1 cm cuts below and left of the bigger one. Carbon dioxide would be passed into the abdominal cavity to bloat it up and make room to visualize and work with the small video camera and the surgical instruments. The camera feeds, illuminated by a halogen light, would be displayed on a larger screen and organs would be carefully prodded and moved around to gain access. When found, the appendix would be cut and removed out through the larger incision. The incisions would be sutured up, some strong narcotics pumped in and the gas mask would be removed. I would be taken into the recovery room to come back to my senses. The whole process in OR must have lasted a little more than an hour.

When I did come, I was “high”. My vision was blurry and I vaguely remember blabbering a lot. I kept insisting that I was in the same bed as I was when they prepared me for the surgery. The nurse kept pushing me down, so I guess I must have tried to get up. I woke up at 12.00 am and was told that I was in the in-patient room, 405. I felt itchy all over, I could not sleep and I asked the nurse to give me something to put me off to sleep. She gave me some more morphine, but that didn’t help. I was moving in and out of drowsiness every 10-15 minutes. It is horrible to not go to sleep when one is so drowsy.

Dr. Estrada-Linder came at 7.00 am and told me that I could leave by noon if I felt better after breakfast. I had severe pain in my right shoulder at around 8.30 am. It was apparently from the carbon dioxide inside the abdominal cavity. It was now pushing against the diaphragm and exerting pressure against the phrenic nerve. It became worse when I took my first steps. I had to get back and rest for a long time before I attempted again. I left my breakfast untouched except for a small piece of bagel and the carton of milk. After spending a few more painful hours, I was brought back home by my labmates, Adhanet and Nicole, who made sure that I was comfortable and provided for. My neighbors, Rangarajan and Padmini, took care of my culinary delights the first few days, as did Sonia with her support. Thanks to all the family and friends who have called and made sure that I didn’t feel lonely.

It has been a week since I came home and has been a lesson in patience and endurance. The abstract and the adjective form of the word patience is certainly an eye-opener. The pain has reduced considerably, but it still hurts every time I move. Although the scars from the surgery are healing now, they hurt more than just a painful memory. When Dr. Stacy was injecting the sedative into my left arm, the irony of life did not escape me. In a few minutes, I would be lying down naked in front of strangers. For a guy who was contemplating on moving out of academia into hopefully bigger bucks, doors to two of the most lucrative jobs would be shut down. Now, I can potentially never be a belly dancer or a stripper…ever ;)

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Flying High

Imagine yourself traveling at a speed of 200 km/h (124 mph). It is not too difficult for those who have tried the autobahns in Germany. But the catch is that you are not wearing a seat belt, neither are you sitting comfortably in a car. Did I mention that there is no road… only air bellowing all around you… and you are 9000 feet above earth, a distance shortening by 55 meters every passing second?

For time immemorial, people have been fantasizing about flying like a bird. Although airplanes have crafted one of the success stories in the pages of human innovation, not least to mention elitist space travel or gliders and hot air balloons, what goes for the goatee is the light headedness and exhilaration of a free fall from the sky. For some, it’s the freedom to stretch and soar, albeit briefly; for others it’s to enjoy the “bird’s view”; for most, it’s the sheer adrenaline rush. So we asked, why don’t we try it out for ourselves?

Seven years to the day, an unusually clear blue Fall sky saw Albena, Bob, Harro, Martijn and me falling towards Mother green Earth in yellow flight overalls. We had driven earlier from Amsterdam to Nationaal Paracentrum in a small village called Teuge, near Apeldoorn. We were very upbeat and rearing to go! The first wrinkles in our courageous façade broke as soon as we entered. We had to sign a document to the effect that we were wilfully giving up our lives, if such a mishap were to occur, in the name of adventure. We dazedly walked out of the office into the field on Parachuutistentsraat and looked up expectantly to see people doing their acrobatic manoeuvres in their colourful parachutes. Seems like we watched too many videos about skydiving from the wrong end of the deal. We saw people dropping down like stones, ready to be devoured by the green grass monsters far far below. Needless to say, we went in for a drink.

When it was our time, we put on our yellow outfits  and were pretty pleased that they actually looked like spacesuits :)  It was a bit uncomfortable to walk, but it was not as if we were going out for a jog. Anyways, we had bigger worries to contend with. We realized that the “training” was a 10 min briefing about how we had to jump and what we needed to do in air and how to prepare ourselves to land, if we finally managed to get that far. We were to jump with a tandem master, a guy who is strapped to your back and who has the parachute strapped on to his back. On our brief walk to the flight, I asked my tandem master if there were occasions when the parachute failed to open. Peter Smit coolly answered that they did not have any such accidents….that day! I am not averse to black humor, but not when it is coming from the guy who has the controls to the thing that would bring us back to safe ground.

The flight took off carrying the 5 of us with our respective tandem masters and an old bloke who was as young as my grandfather. We had also subscribed for video shoots of our jump, mainly to show that we were not fibbing about our little adventure :) We were all discussing excitedly about what was to happen shortly. Everyone was trying to make sure that the harnesses were secure and when I checked with Smit, all I got was that we should move closer to the exit. Albena, Bob and Harro jumped with their respective tandem instructors. It was fun to see the video-jumper cling onto the side of the aircraft and fall sideways, just how we were told not to jump. Henny, my videographer was already in place, ready to drop. After bidding adieu to Martijn, Smit and I edged towards the door and sat there with legs dangling down. It was an amazing sight. The sky was blue and the green pastures far below, inviting as well as very intimidating. While I was enjoying the scenic view, Smit said that I could take as long as I wanted but he would jump within the minute. That got me going  Putting my goggles on, forgetting to take a deep breath, with arms outstretched and legs bent, I fell into the gushing mass of air.

Of all the things that I had thought and hoped for, I was never prepared for what followed. I could hardly breathe and my insides seemed to have this irresistible urge to spread themselves over the expanse of the sky. I wanted to shout, but I could produce no sound. As they had come, those terrible 4 seconds passed and surprisingly, all was fine again. It was the free fall! I was going down…and fast. But it was more a feeling of floating than falling. The air resistance induced an upward thrust, reducing the gravitational force. In effect, I was falling at zero acceleration in what is termed terminal velocity, helped partly by increasing my surface area by spreading out the arms. The air was hitting so hard that it hurt and the exposed parts of my face and palms were going through a complete makeover. It later reminded me of Jackie Chan’s antics in Armor of God. I felt Smit’s tap on my shoulder, a signal to wave at Henny’s camera. I did a couple of swimming motions 3 kms above any available water body! It is amazing that the human body could come to terms with such extreme conditions so fast. The next 25 odd seconds were so wonderful that I thought I would not feel so euphoric for quite some time. I was wrong. It happened a couple of seconds later.

But before that, I felt another tap and then a sudden jerk, as if someone was pulling me up back into the skies from where I had fallen. It was Smit. He had opened the chute and the upward motion was brief and apparent. What followed after a mind-numbing 30 second free fall was a soul-searching canopy. All the swooshing of the air was now replaced by silence. The view was perhaps not unlike what you see in areal snaps or from a flight. But it felt different. I was a bird in flight, free from all the chaos below me. It was truly breathtaking and I don't think I can qualify it in any other words. Smit told me that since I was not too heavy, we could last in air for quite some time. he let me handle the ropes and I did a few turns. At the end of 6 mins of canopy, smit took over the reins and moved towards a small cobbled circle where we were to land. He told me that he would loosen the harness so that I could come to a sitting position, ideal for touchdown. After about 15 mins from our take off, Smit and I landed safely. I thanked him for one of the most fulfilling experiences and looked for the others to share our thoughts. We were so excited and high that we wanted to go for a second serving. But unfortunately, the prices were quite high for us to think twice about it. Moreover, we were completely sapped.



It was one hell of an adventure and I am glad that we did it together. It is a once in a life time experience and I would like to keep it that way :) I would definitely recommend for all of you who have the will and the opportunity to go for it. But be careful and check your harness! Happy flight and safe landing.

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Clash of the ITans

Capitals of two erstwhile magnificent dynasties paved for distinct cultural beliefs in pre-Independence South India. The turn of the twentieth century witnessed these transformed metros breathing down each others’ necks to vie for the fluid IT/BT capital, e-governance and best airport accolades. Not to be outdone in other modalities, Bangalore and Hyderabad upped their ante last night to cap a new and colorful feather in the form of IPL T20 2009 cup. From being the two most drubbed teams in the last year’s version, they have beaten more fancied teams this season, although in very contrasting fashion. Deccan Chargers Hyderabad (DC) went bonkers right from the beginning decimating any team that was pitted against them. Delhi Daredevils, Chennai Superkings, Rajasthan Royals and Kings Eleven Punjab, nonetheless, slowly cut into the action pie. The most controversial and to some extent fancied lot, Kolkota Knight Riders were the sweet beat-me-now-and-everytime team and made Coach Buchanan’s multiple captain theory a cricketing farce. Although DC lost the plot in the middle, they had a winning combination to take them to the last four and beat the Daredevils in what was thought to be a hands-down game for the Delhites.

However Royal Challengers Bangalore, dubbed a test team, apparently suffered from the late bloomer syndrome. They started off on a wrong footing with Kevin Pietersen’s charisma not-withstanding his short stint at captaincy. Anil Kumble may not have been the obvious choice for the take-over, but Dravid was fathering another team back home. Under Anil, they turned multiple leaves over and won the last 10 of 12 games and 5 in a row to beat Chennai Superkings to reach the final. They had to scale the Gilchrist wall to lift up the IPL 2009 trophy. Although Anil laid the initial foundation for that, DC held their nerves in a match that saw so many twists and turns that Hitchcock would have turned in his grave. Mistimed shots, uncalled aggressiveness (initiated by the effervescent Symonds), a bit of sloppiness on field and a possible umpiring decision (a wide was not called when Kohli was stumped off Symonds) cost Bangalore the game that could have been theirs. But such is the nature of the game and doesn't make the efforts of DC any less significant. Deccan Chargers were the true Nizams of IPL 2009!

When T20 games were introduced in India, a strong statement was sent across that it was for the youth and the “seniors” didn’t stand much of a chance. IPL has rewritten that story time and again. IPL 08 was won by a team that was captained by Shane Warne who had quit active international cricket. This time around, both finalists were headed by flamboyant and hard-headed senior cricketers who were ably supported by daredevil young turks. It is all about balance between experience and exploits and I hope the selectors won’t get carried away by the young guns theory for the national team.

The Super Sunday extravaganza with no doubt held more excitement and expectations than the NBA or the UEFA Champions League for the sheer on- and off-field star persona, the exorbitantly ridiculous money involved in staging the event and the rags to riches turnabout of these two contesting teams. The closing ceremony was Moulin Rouge’s Spectacular Spectacular with fireworks and laser display competing with stars above and below! More importantly, it was a good engrossing, equally contested final and truly lived up to the one thing that cricket is all about - a gentleman’s game that entertains the spectator to the very last ball. The better team on the day took home the diamond-studded golden cup. It was not the first time that foreigners carried away exotic stuff from South Africa, except that this time around the Indians were decent enough to bring it down in the first place!

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Piled Higher and Deeper or Praise Him Dearly?

When AR Rehman received his Oscar for original score this year, he said “I was excited and terrified at the same time”. I had thought it was an utterly ridiculous statement. Karma, I guess, I kind of felt the same when I woke up on the 22^nd of April, 2009. Excitement was for the fact that I would defend a thesis I had worked so hard to build. The nervousness kicked in to the possibility that the defense wall might crumble down later that afternoon. When Martijn and I walked into Vrije University Amsterdam main building, the display on the monitors announcing the event only enhanced both the feelings. The writing on the wall was there to see…it was for real now.

There was something else that was real – it was a glorious sunny day… ideal for a book or bhaji on the beach. The black smoking suits might not have been the appropriate apparel for the day, but it was an essential part of a ceremonious occasion. The fact that we resembled a Zubin Mehta or a Lorin Maazel, ready to wave our wands to create philharmonic orchestras with our jackets on and like waiters when we took them off, made the whole thing very amusing. A paranymph is similar to the best man of a wedding and takes care of all the arrangements leading to, and support morally during, the thesis defense. Both Martijn and Alexander were gracious to be my paranymphs, put me at ease and did a wonderful job of making sure that things were on schedule. Everyone was so supportive and said nice things to assuage any remnants of discomfort before the event.

The beadle (an usherer and preserver of order during the thesis defense ceremony) came to the Promovendus room (green room for graduating PhD students) to brief Alexander, Martijn and me about the course of proceedings and we were led to a chamber where the Rector Magnificus (Dean) and the thesis committee were apparently discussing how to make my life a one hour miserable vanishing act. The Dean read some lines out of the bible to the effect that one should not do evil things and be responsible for not only our acts but also of our ancestors and the generations to come. I guess it was an indication that then would be the best time to bribe them for a degree, but I was too shocked to realize the significance and the moment was lost :)

As we left the chambers towards the main hall where the defense would take place, we made a nice procession - the beadle leading the group in her flowing robe, a cap and a clanging sceptre; the professors in the committee with robes and caps; the assistant and associate professors with somber black suits and the three of us at the rear in our penguin costumes. The aula is a very impressive structure that can seat about 800 people. As we walked down the long aisle, it was good to see that a few friends and colleagues had taken their valuable time off from work to be with me on that day. The committee went to their specially designated seats on the far left of the stage. The beadle led us to the right side of the stage where the paranymphs sat on either side of the podium while I stood behind it to face the committee opposite us.

Science is thankfully no longer the isolated elitist lighthouse of the bygone centuries. Popular science books, television shows and the internet have had their share in spreading the knowledge. But it is important that there is a dialogue between the society and the scientists. Although it is considered a challenge to get the ideas across to the laypublic in a coherent fashion, I think it’s a good exercise and a reality-check for the scientist to see how the research could be valuable to the society. So, I really liked the concept of this brief layman talk where the scientific work is viewed in a larger perspective. I hope that the 10 minute talk helped people understand what the thesis was all about.

The formal defense began just after this with the Dean and the committee moving over to the center of the stage. All the committee members started off congratulating on the thesis and then went on with their questions. The first one was a real toughie conceptually. Subsequently he asked me to design an experiment that would decipher some of his findings which apparently could be explained by using his own techniques. The second opponent’s questions were a bit trickier and I wish I could have shown the model I had prepared. It is a very complex idea to put into words and I needed to either draw on a blackboard or show him the powerpoint slide of the model. But the screen was already down and I just rambled on. The next three opponents had some hard questions but I was able to hold the fort.

At the end of a grueling hour, the beadle came in to the aula and took her sweet time to rap her sceptre and call out “hora est” (time’s up). That signified the end of the defense. Then we all walked back towards the chambers for a closed session of deliberation. While the committee was deciding my future, Alexander, Martijn and I sat outside like three kids who were waiting for the headmaster to come and give us (just me in this case) a good hiding. After we sat again at the head of the table, the Dean announced that the committee had decided to grant me the PhD. I felt like taking that jacket off, wave it around, do a jig and clap with joy. Instead, I put on a cool face, smiled at everyone as if it was my daily routine to drink high tea in closed chambers with people wearing 19^th century robes. Aren’t we all slaves of the society?

We moved back to the aula in the same order with us three lagging slightly in the rear to chat openly. On the stage again, the Dean officially proclaimed that I had received my Doctorate degree. He requested my promoter, Matthijs Verhage and my boss, Christiaan Levelt to sign the degree that bore the insignia of the University. It was transferred into a crimson tube of a receptacle by the beadle. Matthijs handed me the degree after reminding me the rights, privileges and the responsibilities that come along with the degree. Christiaan performed the laudatie (eulogy) and recalled nice things during the time I was in his lab and what he thought were the reasons for this marathon of a thesis. The Dean officially closed the event and the beadle walked us all out of the aula, this time, the paranymphs and me leading the group. The Dean, professors, colleagues and friends congratulated and we made some pictures near the podium.

We then headed for the reception at Basket, on University campus. I was able to chat with friends and former labmates at leisure here amidst blocks of cheese and mustard sauce, hapjes, peanuts, drinks and an occasional ball that dropped in from the ‘beach’ volleyball group playing in front of the café. After changing into less formal clothing, we took the metro to Wibautstraat for dinner at India Roti Room. Although the waiter thought he was too funny, the food was pretty good. After winding up a traditional meal of samosas, mango lassi, panneer khas, kurmas, tandoori choice, basmati pulao while listening to Jagjit Singh in the background and Benny Lava on Christiaan’s mobile, we walked down to De Doffer for the party. The labmates had made a quiz about me and had Susan Boyle either grinning, wearing a 3D goggle, a mustache or both with the goggle and mustache. The questions were fun, but most of the time they were downright embarrassing, but fun to others :)

At the Basket... and at India Roti Room

The day brought down curtains on a very memorable phase of my life during which I had the opportunity to learn a lot scientifically as well as socially. It was tough to be away from family and most of my friends. But I met and made friends with many interesting people, some of whom were around to wish me well. It would have been complete if I had all my family and close friends on that day with me. But you were in my thoughts and I thank you all.

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What's in a PhD?

There is an insightful saying in the ever-exciting world of PhD students, which might disgust those who are not in it. But it is very deep and philosophical. Roughly translated, after shedding some fundamentals of communication etiquette, it reads “thesis is like feces - try to get rid of it now than later”. You might think that someone who was ambitious and competitive enough to get into a PhD program should know what a new-born smart ass baby does without thinking or much effort. But hey, don’t be judgmental. We are artists and need the time and freedom to express our thoughts. We will let you know when the painting is done.

A PhD is not just a search for scientific facts that can be corroborated with experimental design and results extrapolated into coherent and valuable information. It is also a soul-searching journey of personal faith and conviction towards life-changing perspectives. It teaches you to respect this grandeur creation and turns a staunch egghead to be modest at the limited awareness of the universe. At the same time it allows you to derive happiness in the expanse of knowledge that greater people before you have deciphered. It makes you think global with the implications of your microscopic dabble at the unknown. It expects you to appreciate the opportunities that are both made and lost. Most of all it teaches you to be persistent with your belief and principles but not to the extent of being fool-hardy. It is in effect a crash course in life!

We learn a lot of things as we grow up and grow old. The information has to be stored somehow to prevent each of us from re-inventing the wheel of experience every single time. What are the factors involved in memorizing and storing the wealth of information in the brain? After carefully analyzing thousands of DNA-profiled subjects who were humanely decapitated and their brains respectfully studied, this thesis concludes that a signaling molecule, brain derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), can be attributed to store this information in small compartments of a neuron called “dendritic spines”. A thesis to this effect was written over a period of one year in three different continents and finally submitted a few weeks ago. It might be a very small piece in the enigmatic functioning of the brain puzzle, but it’s a start. The fact that we are far from decoding this puzzle should not keep us from trying. That’s what these 6 years have taught me.

It all began on a cold winter day in Amsterdam a few years ago and the culmination of this long journey will take place on the 22^nd of April in Amsterdam, when I will defend my thesis. Thanks to all of you for being part of this journey either directly as fellow-passengers or as by-standing well-wishers.

The strips are from PhD Comics that almost every grad-student can relate to and find solace in at the ups and downs of this fraternity.

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