The Rosie Effect
Page 48
‘Did you forget about the sonogram?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So why weren’t you there?’
‘I was expected to attend?’ It would have been interesting, but I could see no role for myself. I had never attended a medical appointment with Rosie before, nor she with me. In fact she had had her first medical appointment with the OBGYN the previous week, where she presumably received an initial briefing on the conduct of the pregnancy. If I was to attend any appointment, this was surely the most relevant in ensuring that we had the same information. Yet I had not been invited. The sonogram was a procedure involving technicians and technology, and I was conscious from experience that professionals liked to work without the presence of onlookers who asked distracting questions.
Rosie nodded slowly. ‘I tried to call but your phone was off. I thought you might have had an accident or something, but then I remembered that I’d only told you the time and the place twice and hadn’t actually said, “Use that information to get yourself there.”’
It was generous of Rosie to take the blame for the misunderstanding.
‘Were there any faults?’ I asked. At almost thirteen weeks, the sonogram would be able to pick up neural-tube deficits. I had assumed that, in keeping with normal protocols, Rosie would have informed me if there had been a problem, just as she would have informed me if she had lost her phone on the subway. The Book had implied that abnormalities were statistically unlikely. In any case, there was zero I could do until an issue was identified.
‘No, there are no faults. What if there were?’
‘It would depend on the nature of the fault, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Good news, then,’ said Gene. ‘Some of us imagine every possible scenario, and some of us cross the bridge when we come to it. Like Don.’
‘I’ve got another item,’ said Rosie. ‘I forgot to tell you. I’ve got a study group tomorrow night. Here.’
‘The semester hasn’t started,’ I said. ‘You need to focus on your thesis.’
‘The thesis is screwed. I’m not going to get it done in ten days.’
‘It’ll be all right,’ said Gene. ‘I’ll organise an extension.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘This is Columbia. They have rules.’
‘For ordinary mortals. Relax.’
Rosie did not look relaxed. ‘I talked to someone in admin. She wasn’t exactly helpful.’
Gene smiled. ‘I’ve already spoken to Borenstein. As long as it’s in by the start of your clinical year, you’ll be fine.’
The study-group meeting would be a major disruption to my schedule, but Rosie was overloaded. I needed to be supportive during this challenging time of change for both of us, as recommended by The Book. ‘I’ll scale up the dinner. How many people?’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll get pizza. One night won’t hurt.’
‘I’m not worried. I can easily cook a vastly superior meal.’
‘Maybe you guys could have your night out tomorrow.’
‘That’s a more serious disruption to the schedule than multiplying the dinner.’
‘It’s just…you’re faculty, and it’s the first time they’ve been here. They’ve never met you.’
‘Obviously there has to be a first meeting. I can meet them all together.’
‘They’re strangers. You don’t like meeting strangers.’
‘Medical students. Almost scientists. Pseudo-scientists. I can have fascinating arguments with them.’
‘Which is why I’d rather you went out. Please.’
‘You think I’ll be annoying?’
‘I guess I just want my own space.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Gene. ‘I’ll look after Don.’
Rosie smiled. ‘Sorry to spring it on you. Thanks for understanding.’ She was looking at Gene.
George called as Gene and I were leaving for the bar the following evening. ‘Don, do you want to come up here instead? We can send out for pizza. I’ve got a few things I want to throw at the Gene Genie.’
I called Dave. If George was paying and we could watch the baseball, location was of minor importance.
During the seventh-inning stretch George turned to Gene. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said about genetics. Quite a bit, actually. It still doesn’t explain why one of my sons is a drug addict and two aren’t.’
‘Two words. Different genes. I can’t know for sure, but I’d guess he got an overdose of genes that tell his body to keep doing what feels good. Fine in an environment without pharmaceuticals.’
George sat back and Gene continued. ‘All of us are programmed—genetically programmed—to keep doing what’s worked for us, and to avoid things that didn’t work.’
‘Ayahuasca,’ said George. ‘Tried once, never again.’
‘Most of the time, what we do works well enough. So here’s a principle that most psychologists would agree with but that comes straight out of genetics: people repeat themselves.’
I asked the obvious question. ‘How do they know what to do the first time?’
‘They copy their parents. In the ancestral environment, they were, by definition, successful people. They’d succeeded in breeding. If you want to understand individual human behaviour, the magic words are repeating patterns.’
‘Of course not.’
‘So why weren’t you there?’
‘I was expected to attend?’ It would have been interesting, but I could see no role for myself. I had never attended a medical appointment with Rosie before, nor she with me. In fact she had had her first medical appointment with the OBGYN the previous week, where she presumably received an initial briefing on the conduct of the pregnancy. If I was to attend any appointment, this was surely the most relevant in ensuring that we had the same information. Yet I had not been invited. The sonogram was a procedure involving technicians and technology, and I was conscious from experience that professionals liked to work without the presence of onlookers who asked distracting questions.
Rosie nodded slowly. ‘I tried to call but your phone was off. I thought you might have had an accident or something, but then I remembered that I’d only told you the time and the place twice and hadn’t actually said, “Use that information to get yourself there.”’
It was generous of Rosie to take the blame for the misunderstanding.
‘Were there any faults?’ I asked. At almost thirteen weeks, the sonogram would be able to pick up neural-tube deficits. I had assumed that, in keeping with normal protocols, Rosie would have informed me if there had been a problem, just as she would have informed me if she had lost her phone on the subway. The Book had implied that abnormalities were statistically unlikely. In any case, there was zero I could do until an issue was identified.
‘No, there are no faults. What if there were?’
‘It would depend on the nature of the fault, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Good news, then,’ said Gene. ‘Some of us imagine every possible scenario, and some of us cross the bridge when we come to it. Like Don.’
‘I’ve got another item,’ said Rosie. ‘I forgot to tell you. I’ve got a study group tomorrow night. Here.’
‘The semester hasn’t started,’ I said. ‘You need to focus on your thesis.’
‘The thesis is screwed. I’m not going to get it done in ten days.’
‘It’ll be all right,’ said Gene. ‘I’ll organise an extension.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘This is Columbia. They have rules.’
‘For ordinary mortals. Relax.’
Rosie did not look relaxed. ‘I talked to someone in admin. She wasn’t exactly helpful.’
Gene smiled. ‘I’ve already spoken to Borenstein. As long as it’s in by the start of your clinical year, you’ll be fine.’
The study-group meeting would be a major disruption to my schedule, but Rosie was overloaded. I needed to be supportive during this challenging time of change for both of us, as recommended by The Book. ‘I’ll scale up the dinner. How many people?’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll get pizza. One night won’t hurt.’
‘I’m not worried. I can easily cook a vastly superior meal.’
‘Maybe you guys could have your night out tomorrow.’
‘That’s a more serious disruption to the schedule than multiplying the dinner.’
‘It’s just…you’re faculty, and it’s the first time they’ve been here. They’ve never met you.’
‘Obviously there has to be a first meeting. I can meet them all together.’
‘They’re strangers. You don’t like meeting strangers.’
‘Medical students. Almost scientists. Pseudo-scientists. I can have fascinating arguments with them.’
‘Which is why I’d rather you went out. Please.’
‘You think I’ll be annoying?’
‘I guess I just want my own space.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Gene. ‘I’ll look after Don.’
Rosie smiled. ‘Sorry to spring it on you. Thanks for understanding.’ She was looking at Gene.
George called as Gene and I were leaving for the bar the following evening. ‘Don, do you want to come up here instead? We can send out for pizza. I’ve got a few things I want to throw at the Gene Genie.’
I called Dave. If George was paying and we could watch the baseball, location was of minor importance.
During the seventh-inning stretch George turned to Gene. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said about genetics. Quite a bit, actually. It still doesn’t explain why one of my sons is a drug addict and two aren’t.’
‘Two words. Different genes. I can’t know for sure, but I’d guess he got an overdose of genes that tell his body to keep doing what feels good. Fine in an environment without pharmaceuticals.’
George sat back and Gene continued. ‘All of us are programmed—genetically programmed—to keep doing what’s worked for us, and to avoid things that didn’t work.’
‘Ayahuasca,’ said George. ‘Tried once, never again.’
‘Most of the time, what we do works well enough. So here’s a principle that most psychologists would agree with but that comes straight out of genetics: people repeat themselves.’
I asked the obvious question. ‘How do they know what to do the first time?’
‘They copy their parents. In the ancestral environment, they were, by definition, successful people. They’d succeeded in breeding. If you want to understand individual human behaviour, the magic words are repeating patterns.’
