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During an elective in my fourth year of medical school, a neurology professor told me how the brain never really turns off reading. He explained this with the example of driving: Heading down a road, you pass signs constantly: traffic signs, billboards, names on buildings, etc. Anything that you look at you automatically read and register.
The only way to not do this is to not see it (I don’t recommend driving blindfolded). The ability to decode symbols into meaningful language becomes such an automatic part of our functioning that we end up screening for what is and isn’t immediately relevant to us (probably a speed limit sign, but not a "waiter wanted" sign [but who knows?]) without even thinking about it.
Likewise, neurologists develop what I call "neurovision." After years of training and clinical experience, it becomes second nature to screen people we pass in the store, restaurant, sidewalk – pretty much anywhere.
It’s impossible NOT to notice things: a slight pill-rolling tremor, an equine gait from a foot drop, a paretic arm from a stroke. Some days, it’s all I can do not to hand out business cards. Granted, this skill has little practical use outside the office (unless you like to approach strangers at restaurants and suggest a higher Sinemet dose), but it makes life more interesting in a weird neuro-nerd sort of way.
Even at family gatherings you notice things – and sometimes check further. An uncle has a slight tremor or hypomimia, and so you check his tone while shaking hands. A cousin seems more forgetful than you remembered, and so you ask seemingly innocuous questions to check cognition.
I’m sure every specialty has a similar skill. I suppose it keeps you on your toes as you go through the days, and I think it’s reassuring to remind yourself that you’re always alert for the things you’re supposed to be.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
During an elective in my fourth year of medical school, a neurology professor told me how the brain never really turns off reading. He explained this with the example of driving: Heading down a road, you pass signs constantly: traffic signs, billboards, names on buildings, etc. Anything that you look at you automatically read and register.
The only way to not do this is to not see it (I don’t recommend driving blindfolded). The ability to decode symbols into meaningful language becomes such an automatic part of our functioning that we end up screening for what is and isn’t immediately relevant to us (probably a speed limit sign, but not a "waiter wanted" sign [but who knows?]) without even thinking about it.
Likewise, neurologists develop what I call "neurovision." After years of training and clinical experience, it becomes second nature to screen people we pass in the store, restaurant, sidewalk – pretty much anywhere.
It’s impossible NOT to notice things: a slight pill-rolling tremor, an equine gait from a foot drop, a paretic arm from a stroke. Some days, it’s all I can do not to hand out business cards. Granted, this skill has little practical use outside the office (unless you like to approach strangers at restaurants and suggest a higher Sinemet dose), but it makes life more interesting in a weird neuro-nerd sort of way.
Even at family gatherings you notice things – and sometimes check further. An uncle has a slight tremor or hypomimia, and so you check his tone while shaking hands. A cousin seems more forgetful than you remembered, and so you ask seemingly innocuous questions to check cognition.
I’m sure every specialty has a similar skill. I suppose it keeps you on your toes as you go through the days, and I think it’s reassuring to remind yourself that you’re always alert for the things you’re supposed to be.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
During an elective in my fourth year of medical school, a neurology professor told me how the brain never really turns off reading. He explained this with the example of driving: Heading down a road, you pass signs constantly: traffic signs, billboards, names on buildings, etc. Anything that you look at you automatically read and register.
The only way to not do this is to not see it (I don’t recommend driving blindfolded). The ability to decode symbols into meaningful language becomes such an automatic part of our functioning that we end up screening for what is and isn’t immediately relevant to us (probably a speed limit sign, but not a "waiter wanted" sign [but who knows?]) without even thinking about it.
Likewise, neurologists develop what I call "neurovision." After years of training and clinical experience, it becomes second nature to screen people we pass in the store, restaurant, sidewalk – pretty much anywhere.
It’s impossible NOT to notice things: a slight pill-rolling tremor, an equine gait from a foot drop, a paretic arm from a stroke. Some days, it’s all I can do not to hand out business cards. Granted, this skill has little practical use outside the office (unless you like to approach strangers at restaurants and suggest a higher Sinemet dose), but it makes life more interesting in a weird neuro-nerd sort of way.
Even at family gatherings you notice things – and sometimes check further. An uncle has a slight tremor or hypomimia, and so you check his tone while shaking hands. A cousin seems more forgetful than you remembered, and so you ask seemingly innocuous questions to check cognition.
I’m sure every specialty has a similar skill. I suppose it keeps you on your toes as you go through the days, and I think it’s reassuring to remind yourself that you’re always alert for the things you’re supposed to be.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
