To the human eye, you could say that we're all just individual bloated, stinking bags of gas and fluid and tissue. Fair enough. But every time I think about the fact that, under a microscope, we're all an independent universe within a much larger universe, I'm torn between awe and disappointment. I mean, wouldn't it be more convenient if we were just some pale yellow mystical light on the inside instead of all that goop?

It reminds me of one of my favorite aphorisms: "The belly is the reason man does not easily take himself for a god."

And I wonder what the comparative scales are between the internal universe of the human body and the universe that Einstein pondered. I'd like to see a ratio. The size of a T cell in relation to a whole body versus a whole body in relation to the known universe. 1:1,000,000,000? I'm curious. Help me out.

But anyway, it's hard to not be impressed by that fact that every one of us is a separate but similar universe, made up of about 50 trillion cells, each a unique citizen capable of good or bad. Like us, they act both as a collective and as individual entities. While we watch Sportscenter there are internal battles going on that, if magnified to an appreciable scale, would be far more entertaining to watch. Countless bacteria, viruses, and protozoans routinely check into the Hotel You. Some are good, some bad.

When the bad guys get in, a variety of cells arrive on the scene. They communicate with each other with their inconceivable chemical language. Some cells bark orders, other cells receive and act on them. We have other cells that send signals to raise our body's temperature to encourage energy-saving rest. And if these cells fail to take down the bullies, in comes the proper army. Helper T cells, like spies and sentinels, track down trouble and poke the bad guys with a flag that says, "Yo, Killer T cells: Snuff this." The Killer T cells start their rampage, and are then followed by the suppressor T cells, which declare the battle over so that it doesn't go on longer than necessary. Then the memory cells arrive to take an inventory of the battlefield, recording the genetic signatures of the fallen for future reference. If their kind return, they'll be easy prey. It's all pretty damn amazing.

I'm not sure what made me think of all this, but it might have something to do with this crippling stomach ache.

I'm going to begin the process of redesigning this joint. I was supposed to do that the first month I started this thingymajig, but hey. Once it was up, it was up.

Labels: ponderage