Going into honours this year has been a big leap into the unknown. Not just because I’m starting a whole new degree that is run so completely different from my undergrad but also because I’ve packed up my whole life and moved to a new university, new city, new province, and there is so much to adjust to. Cape Town feels like a whole other country from Joburg where I grew up and Pretoria where I did my undergrad. Now I have to start all over to make new friends, find new favourite spots and navigate a whole new learning system (sorry UCT but Blackboard was waaayyy better than Vula). Even though this degree intimidates me because of all the unknowns, I’m so excited for what it has in store. I know that an honours year is essentially a training year to bridge the gap between undergrad and postgrad, so I’m expecting a lot of learning and training and to finally be hands on with all the things we do. Through the Medical Cell Biology course I know we are going to learn so many useful lab techniques and really get into the grit of cell biology theory. I’m really excited for the modules we’ll be covering as they all seem so interesting and am especially excited for our research projects. Getting to conduct our very own project that we get to write up ourselves and could be published after? How cool is that?! I know I have a long year ahead of me that’s going to consist of hard work, long days and lots and lots of article reading but I’m also hopeful that I will gain a lot from this year and that I’ll make lots of happy memories and good friends along the way. Here’s to starting honours with bright eyes, an open mind and a hopeful heart! Let’s see where the year takes me!
I have always had a love for knowledge. As a child, my dad would sit me down every night and teach me a new fact or word of the day. I would always insist that he teach me a second one. This zest for knowledge has stayed with me to this very day. I chose to pursue a career in biomedical science, specifically neuroscience, as it is a field that is constantly evolving, presenting new discoveries that challenge us to closely examine our past beliefs and understandings, and allowing us to grow as scientists.
However, this year has tested my love for knowledge. Transitioning from an undergraduate to a postgraduate level has proven to be extremely challenging. I have come to realize how little I actually know, and it often feels as if an infinite mountain of knowledge looms before me, one I may never be able to fully scale. This year has marked many firsts for me—reading research papers, conducting my own lab work, and composing a thesis.
Although I’ve experienced moments of fear, with the unwavering support of my supervisor, friends, and family, I have managed to confront these tasks. Day by day, they begin to appear less formidable. The only true way to conquer your fears is to confront them head-on, and I can proudly say that I have accomplished this throughout this year. To the future honours students, it’s perfectly okay to feel overwhelmed or scared; I still do. What I am certain of is that I will emerge from this experience with augmented knowledge and confidence. Perhaps, just perhaps, I will finally be able to rightfully call myself a “scientist”.
Back in my undergrad days, I used to stress a lot about not feeling “good enough.” If I didn’t get a good mark on a test or exam, I would think I wasn’t smart enough. If I took a break, I’d feel guilty for slacking off and not being disciplined enough. The fact that I didn’t get into a program I applied for, both in undergrad and postgrad, made me feel like I wasn’t talented enough or worthy enough to be in those programs. Ultimately, I felt as if life was not going the way I had planned.
For the longest time I have let my failures and any setback I faced in life define my self-worth. But I realized that fixating on my failures in comparison to the success I should have experienced only served to undermine my confidence and led me to setting unrealistic standards for myself which further contributed to the pressure and anxiety I already had. In addition to this I was also too afraid of failing and as a result of this fear I held back from grabbing opportunities that came up. This battle between pushing myself while still being afraid became so overwhelming until I finally realized that I needed to make a change.
In the ongoing battle between pushing myself and the fear of failure, I have come to appreciate the delicate balance between ambition and self-care. It’s not about eradicating fear but understanding it, learning from it, and using it as a source of motivation. I learned not to define my self-worth by my ability to meet certain goals or achievements. I’m more determined not to chase my goals just to prove something to myself or to others.
Getting a lower grade on an exam doesn’t mean I’m not smart; it means I can learn and improve where I need to. The rejection from those programs? It stung; I am honestly not going to lie. But now, I like to see it as a plot twist rather than the climax of my story. It pushed me to explore other paths, discover new interests that I had not known, and ultimately, it helped me grow. Each rejection and disappointment I had to face was, in fact, an opportunity for learning, growing and refining my resilience.
The fear of failure turned into a catalyst for action. I am learning that success often emerges from the willingness to step into the unknown, to confront challenges head-on, and to use each experience—whether positive or negative—as a stepping stone toward true personal growth. Throughout this year, I also discovered the strength in vulnerability. Sharing and acknowledging my fears with other people around me created a supportive community for me. I began to understand that everyone encounters moments of self-doubt, and this helped me to feel less alone and more connected to others.
I am now learning to be kinder to myself, by acknowledging that failure is a possibility, I am preparing myself mentally and emotionally to handle the challenges along the way. Life’s unpredictability is what makes it beautiful, and my worth is not reliant on a checklist of achievements. I am rewriting my narrative, one that acknowledges the resilience within, embraces the unknown, and values the journey as much as the destination.
Honours!!! This year has been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Taking the academic route is one that takes strength and a lot of resilience.
Doing honours in Applied Anatomy started off very shaky from facing difficulties with registration, to starting our technique block WEEKS before our other peers. The combination of coursework, exams, presentations and research seemed insurmountable.
I don’t think anyone prepared me for the ride this year was going to be. There were times when we were smooth sailing and times where we were at the cliff ready to fall off. This year has taught me how to manage my time better, how to speak up for myself, and most importantly how to read scientifically (never thought that there was a difference, but you learn something new every day).
It has been a year of battle scars and surviving but during the ride, I made lifelong friends. Friends that made me less afraid of the journey. Friends that stood by me when imposter syndrome started to kick in. Friends that supported me throughout my modules and presentations, which for me is equivalent to being at the top of the rollercoaster about to dive into the scariest fall ever.
At the end of the rollercoaster, you’ve lost your hat, your hair is a mess, your voice is gone, but you still made it.
I really think the theme of my honours year has been nothing short of God’s work in growing me as an individual within all aspects of my life. Firstly, I began this year with very high expectations, little did I know what it required from me… I wish I was warned…
We started off with a General Techniques course, which at the time I did not know would be very beneficial for me, in improving my lab skills for my research project. Thereafter we had a HECTIC 12 weeks of exams and modules. I found myself spending A LOT of time in the study room in an attempt to understand Immunology (in the end I did understand it : ) I had the shortest break ever and straight after that I started my lab work. I was welcomed by a wonderful group – the Mucosal Infections Group (MIG) group. In which I encountered some of the best people who made coming to the lab something I looked forward to!
Upon doing my lab work I faced hurdles in between… there were days where I came into the lab to find that my cultures did not grow and even worse days when my broth was contaminated. Nevertheless, I learnt to move on and start afresh. Looking back, I can proudly say that these hurdles, equipped me into becoming a better individual within the lab space. With the help of my supervisors of course.
I have to admit though, obtaining this degree became MORE and MORE difficult towards the end… nothing can amount to how hard it was to go to the lab during the weekend and not having enough sleep.
It was quite difficult BUT despite all this… with the support from friends and family GOD DID (oh yes, He did). In all that I did…GOD DID! I am so grateful for this journey and the lessons I took from it!
In the dimly lit corners of my mind lies a weathered time worn crate. Its battered exterior tells a story of its own, one of adversity yet despite this it is a crate I continue to carry with me. You see, this crate was not designed to merely carry possessions but the weight of my doubt, my memories, and my dreams. Taking the leap of pursuing my Honours at UCT and entering the world of science has not only compelled me to stand before it, but rummage through the treasures buried inside it.
Just like the vibrancy of summer, the year blossomed with the welcoming warmth of my conveners and several neuroscientists eager to share their knowledge and willingness to address the burden of many diseases. MRI, EEG, immunohistochemistry, patch clamp experiments and my very first research project all felt like a guide to my childhood memory of wanting to become a scientist and explore the wonders of the human mind, but like many, my honours journey was not without its shadows.
As the year progressed, realities surrounding a researcher became more apparent. Long buried moments of doubt buried within the crate began to resurface. Days turned into hours spent behind a brightly lit screen poring over research articles and relying on two-hour naps, much like clear skies of summer shifted into looming clouds. I found myself in crossroads thinking of whether to continue to rummage or shove the precarious pile of my aspirations, dreams and doubts back into the crate and leave it behind.
Every encounter this year made me realise despite the thought, I had to bear the weight of these treasures and it was a weight I could not carry on my own. The support of my friends, family and my supervisors gave me the support and motivation I needed to continue. The science I found went beyond lab experiments and data visualisation, but more making research making a tangible impact. Among the handful of cherished memories, doubt, dreams, and aspirations I’ve carried with me, this year, in these final moments, with my brain admittedly fried, stands as one I will carry with me.
At the start of my postgraduate honours journey, I expected a year primarily focused on academics. However, what unfolded surpassed my academic expectations; it turned into a melody of personal and intellectual highs. Now, as I approach the end, I find myself immersed in the harmonies of a truly metamorphic experience.
Transitioning from medicine into a research-intensive environment brought forth a blend of apprehension and excitement. While my undergrad provided foundational knowledge, it did not fully expose me to the intricacies of working in the lab, collaborating with colleagues, and the relentless pursuit of protocol optimisation. Little did I anticipate that this shift would not only broaden my understanding but also become the trigger for a profound evolution in my approach to learning and problem-solving.
Going through this unexplored territory wasn’t just about building my lab skills. It was also about bonding with seasoned scientists and peers who shared the curiosity and like for science that drove them here. We were all in on this quest for answers, and suddenly, asking questions and tossing around ideas became the norm. I learned that teamwork is not just a buzzword; it is where the real magic happens.
The repetitive nature of tweaking protocols over and over was like a never-ending dance, but it turned into this determined quest to master the game. Every hiccup was not a roadblock; it was a chance to get better, sharpening my thinking and fuelling my stubborn resolve to solve problems. What seemed scary at first became this crazy source of motivation, especially when experiments began yielding substantial and transformative outcomes, marking pivotal milestones in my academic trajectory.
The composition of my thesis was not just a scholarly artifact but a testament to my intellectual journey. The late-night sessions spent reading articles, refining arguments, the challenging development of hypotheses, and the victorious moments upon breakthroughs all resonate with the story of a year committed to pushing intellectual boundaries.
Looking back on this ride, that initial nervousness has transformed into a wild appreciation for the unpredictability of research. It is not just about learning more; it’s about diving headfirst into discovery mode. The nerve-racking and heart-pounding moments of this adventure? They’re part of a story that’s changing how I see my scientific world, and I’m all in for the next chapter.
At the beginning of the year, I was filled with mixed emotions. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I was stepping into a new environment. I missed my friends from my previous university and the familiarity of that setting. As time went by, I gradually settled into my new surroundings. One of the significant aspects of the year has been the people I met and the friendships I have made.
Academically, I made choices that aligned with my interests and passions. I enjoyed all the modules I chose. But each of them came with their own challenges. I began this year with no intention of pursuing a master’s degree. This was changed by the intriguing topics I learnt about in my modules and through the experience of working on my honours project. This year has been a difficult, yet great year.
In his book “Solve for Happy”, Mo Gawdat proposes that “happiness is greater than or equal to your perception of the events in your life minus your expectation of how life should be”.
I first heard about the Intercalated Honours degree in my first year of medicine. As a competitive individual, a specialised program for the top students, sounded highly intriguing. I applied for the program and in 2022, I started the Molecular Medicine course on top of Third Year Medicine. I internalised much of the messaging I received about the program – that it would set me apart from my peers and make me a competitive candidate for specialising one day, and that I should aim to be a clinician-scientist to make a real difference in the lives of patients. I had no idea whether research appealed to me or not, because I had not been exposed to it, but I was curious.
The greatest challenge this year has presented is that the reality of Honours did not align with my expectations. I found the first half of the year under-whelming – I did not feel very stimulated nor challenged by the modules. I was excited to make new friends but, while all the students in my stream were lovely, I felt like an outsider as an intercalated student. I felt that the students coming from a BSc background largely did not understand why we, the intercalated students, had joined their class and comments such as “it doesn’t matter what project you get, this is just a year off for you” stung.
In medicine, I adapted to being extremely busy and working incredibly hard, so was strange to go slower this year. Luckily, I was heading up SHAWCO Women’s Health this year so that filled up some of my free time and gave me the sense of fulfilment I felt I was lacking this year. I desperately missed clinical work and while SHAWCO clinics enabled me to practise my clinical skills, I longed for the life I had left behind this year, the one my friends in fourth year were living.
Despite finding this year difficult in many ways, it challenged me to think critically about my life and my purpose and I am grateful for that. The quieter year has allowed me to dedicate lots of time and energy to SHAWCO patients which has been very special, as well as to non-work-related aspects of my life.
I was very lucky to have two incredible supervisors this year. I was inspired by their passion for TB research despite discovering that I do not want to go into research, myself. I am deeply grateful for the many hours of help they gave me. I do feel that I have gained an appreciation for the complexities of research especially through the data analysis work I have done for my project.
If I could go back to last year, I would have advised the past version of myself not to leave the degree I loved, but perhaps then I would never have known that research is not my passion and that I can be an amazing doctor even if I do not become a scientist too. But I have developed compassion for the person I was then, the person who did not know if research was for her, and the person who was curious and courageous and jumped head-first into an opportunity.
While this year was not what I expected, I am certain that I will take much away from it such as a newfound gratitude for the MBChB degree and insights into my purpose. I felt somewhat bothered with my lacklustre passion for research because I know that research can have such a profound impact on the health and well-being of so many people, but I have now come to appreciate that I can make a difference in my own way, at an individual level by treating patients with respect and dignity and giving them the best care possible.
For many years, I have been rushing towards the next milestone. I first learnt of the prospect of being a clinician-scientist from none-other than a Ted Talk when I was in Grade 11. A year later, I learnt I could pursue this dream through the Intercalated MBChB-BMedSci Honours programme at UCT. With a clear-cut vision, I set out running towards this Honours year. The journey included applying to Medicine at UCT, then the Molecular Medicine course, and eventually gaining admission to the Human Genetics Honours course. Each academic goal I met in these past few years was accompanied with a sigh of relief, and an eager anticipation for what goal would need work next.
As I approach the perceived end of this chapter, I find myself slower, kinder and more patient. My time in this degree has taught me the value of slowing down.
My degree in Human Genetics has challenged the more rigid aspects of my personality. In medicine, I kept my Outlook Calendar close at hand, scheduling almost every activity of the day to maximize every free moment. In science, I learned to go with the flow. Science takes time. Science requires waiting. Science entails sitting with scientific papers until you gain understand. There are limited shortcuts to genuine comprehension; A YouTube video will not always provide the answer. Hard work takes time, even when it feels that there should be another way to spend it more efficiently. Be slow.
With my research project involving PCR, sequencing, and ELISA, there are numerous experiments to prepare for and perform, each taking hours to complete. There is no guarantee that the experiment will succeed, and when it fails, the week needs to be rearranged to find time to repeat it. The Honours year grants more agency over how time is spent, but the nature of science introduces factors beyond one’s control. Setbacks in the laboratory may be accompanied by unexpected circumstances such as changing loadshedding schedules, taxi strikes, illness, and more. I had to unlearn the habit of feeling responsible for things beyond my control. It is a challenge to counter the persistent internal monologue that circles back to, “You could’ve planned around it!” The best way serve yourself is to be kinder, pick yourself up, and try again.
Science involves waiting. I still remember the first few weeks in the Laboratory Techniques course where I found the laboratory work to be unbelievably time-intensive. Now, I view time in the laboratory as a protected time to practice patience, let the mind wander, and to enjoy the quiet moments. I have traded in feeling busy for a sense of feeling fully present, when measuring my sense of fulfilment, which has been an unexpected joy.
I feel incredibly grateful to have taken this year out to do the Honours degree. I believe it has given me a chance to reframe how I use my time, approach challenges, and envision my future career. This especially would not have been possible without the support of my supervisors, lecturers, and peers. Slower, kinder and more patient – I will carry these lessons with me into my training as a health care professional, and scientist.
Imagine a seemingly harmless pill, taken by over 100 million women worldwide, carrying hidden risks. We’re talking about oral contraceptives (OC), a popular method of birth control with a variety of applications. These tiny tablets hold the power to reshape lives but also harbour an unsettling secret. Studies have revealed that OC users face a 2-6-fold increased risk of venous thrombosis (VT), a potentially life-threatening condition. Interestingly, VT remains rare among OC users, occurring mostly when combined with other risk factors. This study aimed to uncover why some OC users are more susceptible to VT and what this means for women’s health.
The Research Question:
This study set out to answer a critical question: Why do some women using OC suffer from VT while the majority do not? The research aimed to determine if hypercoagulability, a state of increased blood clotting, could be detected long after OC-related VT using global clotting assays, such as thrombin generation and overall haemostasis potential (OHP) assays. Additionally, the study explored whether hypercoagulability could be attributed to thrombophilia, a condition that increases the risk of abnormal blood clot formation.
Methods:
Results and Implications:
Women who had experienced blood clots linked to birth control pills (OC-related VT) still had a higher tendency for blood clotting even after they had stopped taking the pills for several months. This increased blood clotting was detected through thrombin generation and OHP assays. Interestingly, it was not only attributed to thrombophilia, suggesting that other factors contribute to increased blood clotting.
Additionally, the study discovered that people with a shorter APTT (a thromboplastin blood test) were more likely to develop blood clots while using OCs. This emphasizes that APTT can be a useful indicator for predicting the risk of blood clots in OC users.
Conclusion:
This study sheds light on the long-lasting impact of OC use on women’s coagulation profiles. It highlights the need for further investigation into hypercoagulability and its underlying causes in OC users. While thrombophilia plays a role, it appears that additional factors contribute to the elevated risk of VT. This research emphasizes the importance of personalized healthcare for women using oral contraceptives to mitigate potential risks and ensure their well-being.
Reference:
Doma, S. A., Vučnik, M., Mijovski, M. B., Peternel, P., & Stegnar, M. (2013). Enhanced thrombin generation in women with a history of oral contraception-related venous thrombosis. Thrombosis Research, 132(5), 621-626.
Pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma is the most common and aggressive form of pancreatic cancer. With only a 5-year survival rate of less than 10%, classical treatments like surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation have not shown significant improvements in clinical outcomes.
Surgery is currently the best curative treatment option for localized PDAC but due to late diagnosis about 80% of patients are ineligible for the surgery because at this stage the disease would have already progressed and spread to other parts of the body. As a result, nearly all patients are offered conventional chemotherapy. However, this only modestly increases the survival rate due to therapy resistance and associated toxicity. These are therefore some of the factors that contribute to PDAC having the worst survival rate in comparison to all other cancers.
The major difficulty in effectively treating PDAC is its tumor microenvironment which significantly contributes to therapy resistance, tumor progression and metastasis of the cancer. The tumor microenvironment refers to the environment around a tumor, which is composed of the surrounding blood vessels, different cell types, immune cells, and the extracellular matrix. It is largely composed of cancer cells which interact with these components in complex ways.
This study seeks to understand the effects of chemotherapy on the Pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma tumor microenvironment using a technology called Single cell RNA sequencing (scRNA-seq).
Methods
scRNA-seq is an incredible technique that helps researchers to see the differences between individual cells, within the same tissue or tumor and how they respond to treatments. To do this the researchers collected tumor samples from 27 PDAC patients. Single cells were isolated from the tumor, and their RNA was extracted, reverse transcribed into cDNA, which was then amplified and sequenced. The data was then cleaned up and was ready for further analysis. By analyzing the data generated from this sequencing the researchers could then gain information about the tumor itself and how the cells in the tumor respond to the treatment.
Results
A computational technique called unsupervised clustering combined with a method called uniform manifold approximation and projection (UMAP) was used to group cells that shared similar characteristics together. This analysis revealed ten unique cells clusters.
Three major groups of cells were identified as epithelial, T/ natural killer (NK), and myeloid cells. In addition to these major clusters, several other cell types were identified (Fig 3).
The researchers found that the epithelial compartment which refers to the cancer cells within the tumor microenvironment revealed a heterogeneous malignant subtype composition, with most tumors displaying a mixture of basal-like and classical-like cells. The classical subtype has a better prognosis, in contrast the basal subtype is associated with a more aggressive phenotype and patients respond poorly to treatment.
To understand how certain genes are active in these cancer cells in response to chemotherapy the researchers used a method called Gene Set Enrichment Analysis (GSEA). They found that the cancer cells from the chemotherapy treated group showed higher activity in genes related to processes called angiogenesis and EMT which are two critical factors that influence tumor growth and metastasis. Interestingly they observed that both the classical and basal-like cancer cells responded to the treatment in a similar way at the genetic level. In other words, the treatment didn’t cause classical cancer cells to shift to a more like basal-like expression.
Next the researchers wanted to understand how chemotherapy affected the communication between cells in the TME. PDCA is often characterised as having a highly immunosuppressive TME which means that the body’s immune system doesn’t recognize the cancer cells very well and the environment around the cancer cells suppresses the immune response.
The analysis revealed a potential effective treatment. The researchers found that a molecule called TIGIT found on the CD8 + T cells was overexpressed in the treatment naïve group. TIGIT is like a “brake” for these immune cells, stopping them from attacking normal cells. When someone has cancer, the cancer cell uses this molecule to stop immune cells from attacking them.
If TIGIT is blocked, as in release the brakes on the immune system, this can make the immune system more powerful in attacking the cancer. So, an effective therapy might involve blocking TGIT as the first-line treatment or together with chemotherapy.
Overall, scRNA-seq is a valuable technique that can be used to gain a deeper understanding of complex diseases and can help in the discovery on novel therapies that can benefit a lot of people.
Reference
Werba, G., Weissinger, D., Kawaler, E., Zhao, E., Despoina Kalfakakou, Surajit Dhara, Wang, L., Lim, H.B., Oh, G., Jing, X., Beri, N., Khanna, L., Gonda, T.A., Oberstein, P.E., Hajdu, C., Loomis, C.A., Heguy, A., Sherman, M.H., Lund, A.W. and Welling, T.H. (2023). Single-cell RNA sequencing reveals the effects of chemotherapy on human pancreatic adenocarcinoma and its tumor microenvironment. Nature Communications, [online] 14(1). doi:https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-023-36296-4.
Imagine this: A busy city in Nigeria, where the streets are alive with the symphony of honking horns, revving engines, and the hurried footsteps of pedestrians. Among this lively chaos lies a silent danger that often goes unnoticed – road traffic injuries (RTI).
In Africa and various low- and middle-income countries, these injuries bear a heavy burden, with head injuries being a particularly concerning outcome. Researchers from the University of Ibadan and the University College Hospital embarked on a journey to unravel the incidence, causes, and severity of road traffic-related head injuries in a Nigerian academic neurosurgical practice.
Questioning the Unseen Danger
In this study, researchers from the University of Ibadan and the University College Hospital set out to answer a crucial question: What is the true extent of road traffic-related head injuries in Nigeria?
Peering behind the curtain: The How
To answer their question, the researchers took a retrospective cross-sectional approach, analyzing data from a prospective head injury registry at an academic neurosurgery practice in Nigeria. Their canvas spanned 7 years (August 2009 – June 2016), painting a picture of 1034 head injuries, out of which 80.6% were a result of all-terrain road traffic accidents. Within this mosaic of injuries, they noted a broad spectrum of ages, with an average of 33.06 years and the most common age group affected was 21-30 years, accounting for 27.7% of cases. The male-female ratio stood around 3:1, emphasizing the vulnerability of young males on the road.
Unveiling the Consequences: Results and Insights
Digging deeper into the canvas of injuries, the researchers found motorcycles and motor vehicles to be the exclusive culprits. More than half of the cases were due to motorcycle crashes, often involving vulnerable road users like pedestrians. A stunning revelation emerged – over 90% of these victims belonged to the low socioeconomic class, highlighting the inequality woven into the fabric of road safety.
The severity of the injuries painted a grim picture as more than half of the head injuries were moderate to severe, accompanied by a loss of consciousness in 93% of cases. The injuries extended beyond the head, affecting various organ systems in 50.5% of cases. Surgical interventions were needed, but many victims faced logistical challenges in receiving timely care.
A Glimmer of Hope: Implications and Beyond
As the sun sets on this study, its implications are clear. The researchers emphasized the urgent need for road safety interventions, especially targeting vulnerable road users and the economically disadvantaged. This study serves as a call to action for governments, policymakers, and communities to join hands in creating safer roads and protecting those who navigate them.
In a world where the streets are a canvas of life’s hustle and bustle, this study serves as a reminder that beneath the surface lies a perilous reality that demands attention, compassion, and change.
[Adeleye, A. O., Olowookere, K. G., & Olayemi, O. O. (2009). Clinicoepidemiological profiles and outcomes during first hospital admission of head injury patients in Ikeja, Nigeria: A prospective cohort study. Neuroepidemiology, 32(2), 136–141. https://doi.org/10.1159/000182821%5D
I completed my undergraduate degree in UCT, the year 2022 and I thought I was done with UCT. I was sure that it was about time that I go start afresh somewhere else because I could not take it anymore. However, little did I know that I would be coming back for another year, for a postgraduate degree.
You might be wondering why I wanted to leave so bad. Well, let me take you back to the time I applied to UCT. My first choice was to study medicine and second choice was to do a BSc in my application. Unfortunately, I was not accepted for my first choice and that it is how I ended up doing a BSc. From that point, I hated that I had to prove myself that I was worthy to study medicine, since every year I continued to apply. Fast forward to my final year, I was just so tired and I felt like a change of environment would be great. During the year I had applied for honours because my friends convinced me to, but I was certain that I did not want to do a postgraduate.
The year 2023, I got an acceptance letter from UCT for honours, and I decided to give it a shot. This year has not been busy but I believe it came with challenges I needed to face. It’s my first time participating in research, and I am grateful for the opportunity. I got to learn that in life you won’t always get what you want but if you’re blessed with a chance to learn more then you must seize the opportunity. I am looking forward to what the future holds for me. Though it may not look like what I’ve always hoped for, but I will give it a shot, and see where it leads me too.
The past three years have been a blur. I feel as if I’ve dreamt my way into adulthood whilst being stuck in the mind of a child. At the beginning of the year, I was nervous, as could be expected when beginning a new journey. I would look around at my fellow honour students and wonder how they knew the content. I felt as if there was some course between undergrad and honours that I had missed. “I would ask myself where did they learn this”?
The general techniques course made me question my worthiness in being accepted into this degree. The only thing I truly knew was that I wanted to pursue this degree so I could get a job that would make me money. However, I was uncertain about whether I would truly be happy in the field of forensics or even pass this honours year.
Fortunately, I met classmates who felt the same way and together we studied and improved our knowledge. I realised that I wasn’t the only person who doubted their capabilities. I learned that I was more than I gave myself credit for. As the year progressed so did my resilience.
Although nothing can ever dispel the lingering insecurity regarding what I know and still need to learn. I can confidently state that I have learned a lot this year. Not only have I improved as a student, I have also learned more about my aspirations in life. This year has taught me the value of hard work and companionship. I no longer ask myself “Where did they learn this?” I know that I can learn anything I set my mind to.
Diabetes is a global health concern, impacting more than 537 million adults globally, with adverse micro- and macrovascular complications as a vascular disease. In a recent meta-analysis led by Z. Wang and titled “Diabetic Retinopathy (DR) as a Potential Predictor of Stroke in Diabetes Mellitus Patients,” the primary objective was to elucidate a critical connection between diabetic retinopathy, a prevalent cause of blindness affecting approximately one-third of individuals with diabetes, and stroke, which ranks as the second leading cause of mortality among diabetic patients on a global scale. The frequency of stroke is known to be two to four times higher in people with diabetes than those without the condition, underscoring the importance of predicting and managing risk factors from a diabetic perspective.
This study sought to explore whether the presence of diabetic retinopathy could serve as an early indicator or predictor of the risk of stroke in individuals with diabetes mellitus, a condition with substantial healthcare implications. Understanding this link has the potential to improve both preventive and clinical management strategies for diabetic patients to mitigate the risk of stroke and its associated complications.
Researchers conducted a comprehensive search in electronic databases, seeking studies that explored the relationship between stroke and diabetic retinopathy. The research studies were divided into two groups, one focused on odds ratios and the other on hazard ratios, to thoroughly examine the relationship between DR and strokes. Additionally, a supplementary analysis was carried out on the ACCORD Eye study, which involved 3,472 patients who underwent baseline and year 4 eye examinations. This approach ensured a comprehensive and rigorous assessment of the link between DR and the risk of stroke. The primary outcome was stroke, including ischemic and haemorrhagic events. Covariates were selected through stepwise selection, and sensitivity analyses considered various DR severity levels.
Out of 20 papers reviewed, including 48 967 patients, they discovered a distinct connection between DR and strokes, indicating that the microvascular abnormalities associated with DR have substantial implications for cerebrovascular health. Notably, individuals with DR were found to have a 62% higher risk of experiencing a stroke compared to their diabetic counterparts without DR. To put it differently, having DR was linked to a 1.62 times higher likelihood of experiencing a stroke. This discovery highlights the significance of acknowledging the increased likelihood of stroke in individuals with diabetic retinopathy, especially among patients diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and those exhibiting more advanced stages of diabetic retinopathy. In cases of severe diabetic retinopathy, the risk of stroke is notably amplified. This emphasizes the need for vigilant monitoring and tailored interventions in these high-risk populations to prevent cerebrovascular complications.
References
Wang, Zicheng, Dan Cao, Xuenan Zhuang, Jie Yao, Ruoyu Chen, Yesheng Chen, Kangyan Zheng, and Liang Zhang. 2022. “Diabetic Retinopathy May Be a Predictor of Stroke in Patients With Diabetes Mellitus.” Journal of the Endocrine Society 6 (8).
Wong, Ka-Ho, Katherine Hu, Cecilia Petersoon, Nazanin Sheibani, Georgios Tsivgoulis, Jennifer J Majersik, and Adam H de Havenon. 2020. “Diabetic Retinopathy and Risk of Stroke: A Secondary Analysis of the ACCORD Eye Study.” Stroke 51 (12): 3733-3736.
At the beginning of the year, things looked pretty tough for me. I found myself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty and ambition and to be honest, I didn’t really know what I was doing with my studies. It was like being lost in a big maze. But you know what? I had this strong love for what I was learning, and that kept me going. I had a lot of difficulties that made me wonder if I should keep going with my postgraduate studies, but I was determined to find a way.
One of the biggest challenge I faced was not having funding for my studies. It’s like having a big dream but not enough fuel to get there. I started to question if I made the right choice to be here. However, deep inside, I had this tiny spark of passion I couldn’t let go of it. So, I decided not to focus on the challenges because they were weighing me down instead, I gave myself more on my studies and all the experiences. I started to attend academic events, seminars, and talked to people who knew more than I did. I was like a hungry student, absorbing everything I could find.
But you know what made this journey even better? The people around me. Their kindness and support were like a warm blanket on a cold day. They kept me motivated and made me want to be better. As the year went by, I changed a lot. I wasn’t the same person who started the year lost and confused and I realized that this journey was not just about academics; it was a journey of self-discovery. I became a person who loved what they were studying and had the determination to keep going, no matter what. I communicated more than I did at the start of the year and that helped me to get help in some of the challenges.
Looking back, I have learned some valuable lessons. I learned that when you have passion and don’t give up, things can turn around. I have come to realize that good people could make a tough journey feel like a walk in the park. So, here I am, at the end of the year, filled with gratitude. The challenges of this year have shaped me into a stronger, more passionate student. I am eager to continue my journey, armed with the knowledge and determination. I am more committed than ever as the year is about end, and I am continuing with my Honours project that I love.
In this article, the researchers from the College of Health Sciences, Westville Campus in Kwazulu-Natal, conducted a study with the aim of answering the relationship between the morphology of the right coronary artery (RCA) and left coronary artery (LCA), which included the shape and the branching patterns of the RCA. In addition, the occurrence of a double RCA and the absence of the LCA using coronary angiograms.
The study was conducted to document the anatomical variations of the coronary artery. The RCA gives off the posterior intervertebral artery (PIB) with a dominance of 60%, and the codominance of 2.5% occurs when the circumflex branch (CX) and RCA provide the PIB. The presence of rare congenital anomalies of the coronary artery splitting. The geometric shape of the RCA is C-shaped and sigma-shaped, with the C-shape mostly associated with Atherosclerosis in their proximal middle region. The isolated absence of LCA occurs when the anterior intervertebral artery (AIB) and CX arise directly from the left aortic sinus rather than bifurcating from a common trunk. The occurrence of the AIB and CX outside the LCA is known as a secondary absence of LCA.
METHODS
500 human coronary angiograms acquired from the cardiac catheterization of a private hospital in KwaZulu-Natal were reviewed. The branching pattern of RCA was classified into type A where a single RCA was present, type B where RCA dominance with left dominance, type C where RCA splits with co-dominance and type D where RCA splits with right dominance.
LCA was classified into type A where LCA is bifurcated into AIB and CX, type B, trifurcation into AIB, median, and CX arteries, type C is quadrifurcation into AIB, two median arteries, and CX artery, type D AIB and CX originate from aortic sinus and LCA is absent and type E the LCA is absent, AIB, median and CX arteries arose from left aortic sinus. The shape of RCA was classified as either C-shaped or S-shaped.
RESULTS
RCA type A was the most prominent with 95.8% and a split of 4.2% of cases. RCA type B occurred in 3.6%, type C occurred in 0.4% and type D occurred in 0.2% of the study sample. LCA type A occurred in 65.8% and type B occurred in 20.4% of the study sample, type C had a prevalence of 1.6%. When LCA was absent, LCA type D occurred in 10.8% of cases and type E occurred in 1.4% of cases. RCA C-shaped was found in 68% of the heart and S-shaped was found in 32% of the study sample.
In the study, there was a significant correlation between split RCA and absent LCA with splitting of the RCA more prevalent in the absence than the presence of the LCA (Table 1).
Table 1. Data analysis showing results of Pearson chi-square (c2) tests.
LCA- Left coronary artery and RCA- Right coronary artery.
REFERENCE
Singh S, Ajayi N, Lazarus L, Satyapal KS. 2017. Anatomic study of the morphology of the right and left coronary arteries. Folia Morphologica76(4):668-674.
In the realm of higher education, a journey filled with triumphs and challenges awaits every student. As I reflect upon the past few months, I can proudly say that it has been a remarkable testament to my perseverance and despite numerous obstacles that confronted me along the way, I refused to succumb to the weight of adversity.
Looking back, the beginning of was undoubtedly the most daunting phase. Moving to Cape Town, a city unfamiliar to me, brought with a sense of excitement but also an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I had left behind everything and everyone familiar, stepping into the unknown.
Adding to the difficulty was the fact that I started a month later than my peers due to unforeseen circumstances. This delay meant that I was constantly playing catch-up throughout the first few months, always trying to bridge the gap that had formed. It felt like a perpetual race against time, as I had to ensure I covered all the material before the crucial June exams.
Furthermore, being the ONLY person in my program (Radiobiology) added an additional layer of complexity. The lack of classmates to bounce ideas off or study with made the journey feel isolating at times. However, I refused to let these circumstances dampen my spirits. I knew I needed to seek support and guidance from those who could provide it. This is where my family, supervisor and co-supervisor played a significant role. Their guidance and mentorship became a source of strength and motivation for me.
The rigorous curriculum demanded an extraordinary level of commitment and balancing the academic workload and personal life proved to be an uphill battle. With the complex coursework throughout the year, extensive research projects, and demanding deadlines, I had to enhance my time-management skills. Embracing a disciplined routine became imperative, sacrificing short-term leisure for long-term academic achievements.
Amidst the challenging journey, it was essential to celebrate small victories along the way. Each milestone achieved, every positive grade earned, and every completed project became a testament to my determination and progress. These accomplishments fuelled my motivation, reminding me that perseverance leads to eventual triumph.
Despite the numerous challenges that came my way, I persevered. I adopted a mindset of resilience and determination, refusing to let setbacks define me. There were moments of exhaustion and self-doubt, but I pushed through, knowing that the reward at the end would be worth the struggle. I learned to navigate the complexities of my program, to overcome the loneliness, and to seek support I needed. My honours degree has been a transformative experience, not only academically but personally as well.
So, even though at times it may feel like you have lost your way, like taking the wrong turn after the GPS said turn right, at some point it will recalculate, and you will find your way, and reach your destination.
As I look back at this year thus far, I can definitely say that it has been a journey full of twists and turns, with lots of tears, laughter, and growth. Coming from a different institution to what is known as the best university in Africa, it was a huge adjustment for myself. Getting used to a new environment, new people, new expectations, and new norms was tough. Looking back, I could say that I put quite a bit of pressure on myself because of this.
My honours journey began with an introductory course known as ‘General Techniques.’ I can distinctly recall being extremely overwhelmed during these initial lecture sessions, as I was often lost in understanding the course content since it was all new to me. However, it was a more comforting experience to discover that I was not alone in this sentiment, as many of my honours peers shared similar struggles.
After the ‘General Techniques’ course, we were placed within our individual program groups, which, in my case, was Human Genetics. This is where I felt more comfortable and at ease, especially while doing lab work. Three weeks of lab training eventually flew by, and the four required modules for Human Genetics flew by even faster, with some good and rather disappointing test/assignment marks. However, I can truly say that my fellow Human Genetic Honours peers made every moment during coursework way more worthwhile and memorable.
It’s crazy how quickly time can move by, and it’s even crazier to see how much I have learned and grown in a short space of time. To the Division of Human Genetics as a whole, I would like to thank you for being so helpful and supportive throughout this year thus far. Be it as simple as a “Hello” or a “How is it going?” really did help make the day a bit easier. Finally, to myself – I am extremely proud of you! You are almost there – so push through!
I am one of the Medical students doing intercalated honours this year and I’m doing my degree in Human Genetics. Coming into Medicine in 2020, I was apprehensive. I wasn’t absolutely sure that studying medicine was for me and had considered other career paths. To me, Medicine seemed like an endless cycle of information assimilation and regurgitation. These doubts continued throughout my first year which I spent at home as a result of covid.
In second year, through a myriad of experiences, conversations and reflections I had decided to remain in medicine. One of the many reasons for this was the intercalated track that UCT offered allowing certain medical students to take on a year in medical science. Some of the omnipresent and overarching themes in my life include a rich variety of interest, a dislike for monotony and longing for a sense of wonder. In my mind, a career as a clinician-scientist would provide this variety; ward off monotony and maybe…just maybe provide this sense of wonder I’ve longed for.
In third year, as required by the intercalated program, we took on an extra course: Molecular Medicine. Having lectures run in the evening after a full day of medical lectures and tuts was hard. It was a balancing act that I found challenging at the start of the year but got better at as I got through the year. I will always give credit to the wonderful friends I have and the support they forever provide. At the end of the year, I was admitted to Human Genetics and seemingly took my first step towards this illusive career as a clinician-scientist.
I found the first half of the year interesting. Though many topics were familiar, it was nice to get the refresher course and I was glad to meet new people in my class and beyond. In fact, that was my favourite part. Getting to know people from diverse backgrounds with different life philosophies to mine is something I treasure profoundly. Perhaps it is, once again, the variety that results with coming face to face with the difference in thought and experience of people that makes it enjoyable for me. Modules, assessments and exams came and went, and after a semester full of fun, laughter, conversations and a few last-minute tasks, I was through to the second semester.
The second semester of this year has been a checkpoint for reflection. Coming into the part of the degree that most closely resembles the life in academic research I’ve been faced with thoughts about whether or not this is what I expected or enjoy at all. From the work in the lab to the academic writing (trudging through this literature review), is this really the promise land I promised to land myself in?
Moreover, questions around the place of clinician-scientists in this world of academia have been on mind lately. The rationale for clinician-scientists, as we have been told, is that of an individual acting as a bridge between the clinical and scientific world. However, I’m beginning to wonder if such a hybrid bridge is truly indispensable. Perhaps the chasm they bridge could be more effectively spanned through straightforward collaboration and open communication. The clinician-scientist might be akin to a chimera, stranded in the divide between clinical bedside and scientific bench, belonging fully to neither domain. And maybe… all of this really ain’t that deep.
Coming back to the question of whether or not this is what I expected or enjoy at all, the answer is convoluted. While it hasn’t met all my initial expectations, the surprises haven’t been entirely unwelcome. Though not every facet appeals to me, very few truly displease me. With regards to the other questions, they remain seated somewhere in my head. I’ve thought and conversed about them all widely. I don’t quite have answers to them and I’m fine with that. These questions, as daunting as they may be, haven’t stifled me and I continue to not let them do so. As I’ve always done and will continue to do, I’m letting my interests and curiosities shepherd me through the uncertainty.
Feels like a dream to say the worst is over, even though it didn’t make sense from the beginning. During the registration period I was skeptical about registering especially because I did not get a bursary or have any source of funds for my fees. One morning I woke up and said to my family, I am registering and everything will work out while busy with the course. Unfortunately, I expected a smooth journey because I never had the experience of being a non- funded student. My Arrival in Cape Town felt like a dream come true. For a moment, I was very happy to be a student at the top university all the way from Limpopo. A time came when all those great days vanished, I was then in misery. The semester started well, until I received the first fee statement, and got the shock of my life. Each day became horrible, buried in my thoughts every chance I got. Stressed about how I will pay the fees. I felt a sense of not belonging, not enough, and being in the wrong place. I regretted every second and I wanted to deregister and go back home, I felt swallowed by the city, it became very small daily. I did not have anyone close to talk to or have the courage to ask for help. Everyone was minding their own business and I felt helpless. Being a loner was normal and I isolated myself because I felt judged and thought everyone had it all figured out (it was all in my mind). Every night I would cry myself to sleep and ask myself, the same question, which was a reality (What did I get myself into?). Dragged myself to classes, not knowing what tomorrow holds. Things took a turn the day I went through the 2022 reflective pieces, which brought peace for a short time. As students, we are mostly in the same boat, but that is never written on our foreheads. I tried to engage with people randomly and their testimonies sounded like miracles to me, but hope was built within. I shared my story with some guy, and I was not convinced when he said, “I was once in the same situation, and by the end of the year my fees were paid out”. Another lady shared with me that she is in debt and still struggling to pay the institution. She advised me to be in contact with my convenor and to start a Backabuddy campaign to raise funds ASAP, I took her advice. I did all that, though dragging my feet and postponing multiple times because I lost hope. A few months later the department showed up for me, they helped settle my fees; with donations and university food parcels, I did survive, and I still do. I started to have a different perspective on life and believed that there are people willing to help. I thought that was the worst, I was broken into many pieces, shuttered, and embarrassed during my 1st presentation ever being a student. I lost everything that defined me as a person. I grieved upon it and spoke about it. I was told that the first presentations are never the best. God broke me, rebuilt, restored, and made room to love and appreciate, forgive, and be kind to myself and others.
I learned that there is no such thing as the worst mistake of life, as I cannot trade anything in place of God’s purpose upon my life. I am forever grateful and very proud; it was all worth it.
As I sit here and reflect upon my studies and learning experience in 2023, I am overwhelmed with a sense of pride and accomplishment. One significant change that took place was my decision to switch from my previous institution to UCT, leaving behind familiar surroundings and starting afresh in a different place. As nervous as I was, this has been nothing short of transformative, pushing me to expand my horizons and challenging me to step out of my comfort zone. The knowledge I have gained and the skills I have developed thus far have truly shaped the person I am today.
One of the most significant aspects of my studies this year has been the opportunity to delve deeper into my chosen field of study, the Circadian Clock. I have been able to explore topics and subjects that truly interest me, allowing me to engage in meaningful discussions and research. This has not only deepened my understanding but has also ignited a passion within me for lifelong learning.
Furthermore, I have been fortunate to meet a diverse range of professors and loving friends who have played a pivotal role in my educational journey. Their expertise and guidance have gone beyond the classroom, fostering an environment that encourages critical thinking and collaboration. I am grateful for their commitment to my growth as a student and for their unwavering support. I wouldn’t have survived lab work without their presence.
As tough as coursework was, it has also actively sought out opportunities to expand my knowledge beyond the traditional classroom setting. This made me participate in article discussions and presentations. Each of these experiences has not only broadened my understanding but has also connected me with individuals who share a similar passion for learning and personal growth.
The challenges I have encountered throughout this year have also been a valuable part of my learning experience. Whether it was failed experiments or facing setbacks in my academic pursuits, these obstacles have taught me resilience, adaptability, and the importance of perseverance. I have come to understand that failure is not indicative of my abilities, but rather an opportunity to learn and grow.
As I look towards the future, I am confident that the knowledge and skills I have acquired in 2023 will lay a solid foundation for my endeavors. The critical thinking skills, research abilities, and interpersonal skills gained from this year will be invaluable as I navigate the professional world. I have also grown personally throughout this year. I have learned the importance of self-care, time management, and the significance of maintaining a healthy work-life balance. These lessons will undoubtedly serve me well as I continue my journey beyond academia.
In conclusion, my studies and learning experience in 2023 have been a remarkable journey of growth and self discovery. The knowledge gained, the challenges overcome, and the connections made have all contributed to shaping me into a more well-rounded individual. I now eagerly anticipate the next phase of my educational journey, confident in my abilities and excited to continue learning and growing in the years to come.
Embarking on the journey of pursuing an Honours degree has been a transformative experience. It’s a unique juncture where academic curiosity and specialization converge, pushing me to delve deeper into my chosen field.
This academic pursuit has taught me the value of perseverance and time management. The workload can be demanding, but it’s also immensely rewarding. I’ve learned to balance research, coursework, and personal life, honing skills that will undoubtedly serve me well in the future.
Through my Honours degree, I’ve had the privilege of working closely with professors and researchers who are passionate about their subjects. Their guidance has not only enriched my understanding of the field but has also inspired me to think critically and innovatively.
Collaborating with fellow Honours students has been a source of camaraderie and shared learning. We’ve exchanged ideas, challenged each other’s perspectives, and grown together intellectually.
However, it’s not just about academic growth. This journey has provided a platform for personal development. It’s a time to explore interests, discover strengths and weaknesses, and set the stage for future academic or professional pursuits.
As I reflect on this chapter of my education, I’m filled with gratitude for the opportunities, challenges, and insights it has offered. While there are still uncertainties ahead, I’m confident that the skills, knowledge, and experiences gained during my Honours degree will continue to shape my academic and personal journey in meaningful ways.
This year has been quite a unique, stimulating journey for me. Previously being a medical student, I wasn’t sure how ready I was for this different road ahead, or how I would cope with all the pipetting and journal clubbing. Entering this year as my first official step to becoming a clinician scientist, I was excited and nervous. I feel fortunate and grateful for having this opportunity to experience the realm of basic science and research full-time. This experience has made me realise again the importance of intimate interactions between the clinical space and the research space, and appreciate how the two fields stimulate each other, nourish each other, and together pave the way to the better health of human beings.
One thing out of many that I learned from this year is patience. The patience to sit with my laptop for hours to decode a paper into pretty slides, to wait for incubation time to pass, to wait for an order of reagents to arrive, and to troubleshoot an experiment again and again. The lab work really does build character. I’ve unlocked more perseverance and a stronger heart to better stand stress and uncertainty against a ticking clock. I also learned more about time management and planning my life with an ever-changing lab work schedule.
Another improvement I gained from this year is about public speaking and reading skills, from journal club presentations. I also admire the critical-thinking mindset that my colleagues and supervisors have when facing a paper. An independent clear mind with the courage to question “the answer”. Furthermore, it is really inspiring and lucky to be surrounded by people who radiate great passion for what they are doing, who are always hungry and “foolish” for more knowledge, who are always so kind to offer mentorship, and from whom I have so much to learn. Moving forward, I’d like to stay optimistic alongside them and continue exploring the multiverse of medical science.
Science is black and white. It either works, or it doesn’t. The results are positive, or they are negative. We deal in absolutes, in discrete values, in contrasting ideas – until we don’t.
Because much like ourselves, science is grey. Upon analysis, we realise there is no way to separate all the parts of a whole – everything is connected.
At the beginning of this year, I thought in black and white. I felt lucky to be here after having convinced myself throughout my final year of my undergraduate degree that I would not be accepted. Getting in felt like I had made it. An acceptance into honours was like a second chance – where my undergraduate degree felt like a failure, this second degree would be perfect. I wanted flawless marks, and a project worthy of a Nobel prize. With these ambitions, there was no room for error.
But leaving no room for error is an error in itself, one possibly worse than actually making a mistake. Science is not perfect – neither are humans. I have had countless failures this year, from realising I should have studied harder in undergrad, to contaminated cell cultures and a project that sometimes feels like a tangled web of broken synapses, waiting to transmit and reveal the connections between the thoughts, ideas, and outcomes. Unlike my cell cultures though, I have grown. At least I think I have.
Somewhere between attending lectures and starting my project, I realised that things are not as binary as they may seem. No scientist has simply chosen one field of research and isolated themselves from everything else. No experimental result stands alone. There are countless connections between results, between research papers, and even between entire scientific fields.
My project itself is an attempt to bridge the gap between immunology and neuroscience – asking how cells in the brain connect to each other, and how these cellular conversations might protect us from infections.
So why, then, did I still feel so polarised? There were days where I was certain I had made the correct career choice; certain I would never want to be doing anything other than science. Then there were days where I wished to be somewhere else entirely, doing anything but science. Honours has allowed me to feel so smart, and yet so stupid at the same time – so qualified, and yet also so young and inexperienced. I have never felt so sure of something, yet so unsure at the same time.
But at some point, you have to accept that maybe grey is not such a bad colour. Sometimes, things are quite good enough as they are – although you might never be completely happy (after all, who is?), you have done what you can. You don’t have to be the smartest person in the room or have the most brilliant results in order to have accomplished something great. You owe it to yourself to at least recognize this. There will be time enough for the rest.
I applied for an Honours in Medical Biochemistry as my second option after taking a two-year hiatus from academia. I was pregnant with ambition and cultivated by the possibility of studying at the University of Cape Town. Back in UKZN, I was doing Anatomy and Physiology as my majors and dabbled in the introduction of biomolecules module during my second year which alluded to the thought that biochemistry is fun and doable.
Ta-da! My return to academics has been one long bumpy ride opposite to what I had romanticized during my gap years.
It feels as if I had to play catch-up with the rest of my classmates since they mostly come from MCB, MBChB or Med Biochemistry backgrounds. I was always lost. Quite frankly, I was always confused, stressed, down and feeling inadequate for this course. I would often ask myself; ‘Why am I here?’ or ‘How did I get here?’.
After days, weeks and months of constant back-to-back teaching and learning and being bombarded with information I needed to quickly become acquainted with, understand and apply – I hit rock bottom. Now let me tell you something, the pits of despair wrapped me up so cosily that I was on the verge of packing up and going home.
I did not go.
I stayed. Fought. And tried again. After a long battle of appealing for full funding, coursework, and depression I found healing through SWS, love from family and friends and the support of my department.
I am still here, fighting and hoping, just hoping that I get great grades to pursue a master’s degree next year. Today I tell myself ‘You did not get here by happenstance’ and ‘You deserve every last bit of the victory you seek’. I am doing this for 13-year-old me who had so many dreams to become something worthy and a symbol of hope for those coming after her in her community.
This year has taught me to be resilient, and courageous and knowing that learning is a process- trust the process. As it ends, my heart smiles with fulfilment, ambition and constant disbelief that I get to call myself a UCT student and soon-to-be alumni.
‘Gowisha’ is a slang term in IsiXhosa which means to be going through a lot, and if I had to choose one word to sum up my honours year thus far it would have to be this one. Despite being told by my friends who completed their honours last year that it was no joke, I hand- on-my-heart did not expect it to be as challenging of a year as it has been. This year has been challenging in several aspects. The first, and most obvious, challenge was related to academics. From our techniques module at the beginning of the year which required us to be in the dissection hall every day from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., to our content-heavy module courses, I have never been under as much academic pressure as I have been this year. The second challenge I faced this year was moving to a new city by myself. I can’t count how many times this year I honestly would’ve sold one of my kidneys if it meant spending just one night at home with my family. The third challenge was a mental one. You know those negative voices that creep into your head and tell you that you aren’t good enough? Or that you only got into this honours programme by luck? Yeah, I struggled a lot with imposter syndrome this year. Despite these struggles, and trust me there’s been plenty more, I’ve managed to stay kicking and keep fighting. One thing my dad always tells me and my brother when we’re going through one of life’s many rough patches is that time is always moving and everything passes. If I hadn’t constantly been reminding myself of this, I don’t think I’d be here, right now, lying in bed in the dark writing this reflection piece at 00:15 am. But I’m writing this with a grateful heart, a heart that has been hurt and tempted to harden, but a healed heart, nonetheless. I’m so grateful to God and proud of myself for getting through this whirlwind of a year. I’m proud of myself for being there for myself during my loneliest moments; I’m proud of myself for getting up on days when all I wanted to do was stay in bed and feel sorry for myself; but most of all I’m proud of the independent, resilient, and hard-working woman this year has moulded me into. I truly can say I’ve grown so much despite gowisha’ring.
The Pulmonary veins transport oxygenated blood from the lungs to the left atrium of the heart. They are mainly located in the interlobular septa and drain each bronchopulmonary segment on the anterior surface of the bronchus. In addition, veins run between the segments, mediastinal, and fissural surfaces. Often, the veins of the middle lobe of the inferior lobe arise from those of the right medial. In addition, the right superior and middle pulmonary veins drain the right superior and middle lobes, while the right inferior and left inferior pulmonary veins drain the corresponding inferior lobes.
Aim
The aim of the study is to determine the incidence of different draining patterns of the right pulmonary vein at the hilum.
Methods
The study involved twenty-six formalin-fixed adult cadaveric lungs from Bangalore Medical College & Research Institute. The dissection initially involved identifying the structures at the hilum. Additionally, the pulmonary veins were picked up and their tributaries were traced peripherally by carefully dissecting the lung tissue using blunt forceps. Therefore, different patterns in the drainage of the pulmonary veins were noted.
Results
In 53.8% of dissected lungs, the right superior lobar vein and middle lobar vein unite to form the right superior pulmonary veins, Moreover, the right superior lobar vein drained the apical and anterior segments of the right upper lobe and also the medial and lateral segment of the right middle lobe from the anterior surface, whereas veins from the posterior segment of the upper lobe drained into the posterior aspect of the superior pulmonary vein. These lungs fall under Type A, whereby the right superior lobar vein (RSLV) and right middle lobar vein (RMLV) join to form the right superior pulmonary vein (RSPV) as seen in Figure 1.
In 26.6% of dissected lungs, the right superior lobar vein and the right middle lobar vein did not join, and all three lobar veins drained separately at the hilum. This belongs to Type B, whereby the right superior lobar vein (RSLV), right middle lobar vein (RMLV), and right inferior lobar vein (RILV) drain separately in Figure 3.
In 11.53% of dissected lungs, the right superior lobar vein received tributaries from the right upper lobe, whereas the right middle lobar vein joined with the inferior lobar vein to form the right inferior pulmonary vein (Figure 4). This belongs to Type C, where RSLV forms RSPV, and RMLV and RILV join to form the right inferior pulmonary vein (RIPV).
In 3.8% of dissected lungs, the right superior lobar vein, the right middle lobar vein, and the right inferior lobar vein drained into a common vein forming the right single unilateral central pulmonary vein (Figure 5). This belongs to Type D, where RSLV, RMLV, and RILV join to form the right unilateral single central pulmonary vein (RUSCPV).
Discussion
This study focuses on the drainage patterns of the right lung’s pulmonary veins, focusing on all three lobar veins which are RSLV, RMLV, and RILV. Variations in the vein numbers and course are common, and patients with separate ostium for the right middle lobar vein have higher atrial arrhythmia frequency as seen in Figure 3. Anomalysed veins can lead to the right ventricular diastolic overload, causing ectopic beats. Understanding the normal pulmonary venous anatomy is essential for pre-ablation planning and for the evaluation of post-ablation complications. Pulmonary veins trigger atrial fibrillation in patients with paroxysmal atrial fibrillation, and catheter ablation is a treatment strategy targeting these triggers. In addition, anatomic variation of the middle lobar vein draining into the inferior pulmonary vein is important for the right lobar lobectomy surgery.
Conclusion
The study found significant variations in pulmonary venous anatomy in 46.03% of dissected lungs, aiding in the classification of anatomical patterns based on drainage patterns of the right pulmonary vein at the hilum. The results confirm that there is considerable variation in the anatomy of pulmonary veins. Moreover, with the increasing use of cardiovascular imaging, variations in the pulmonary vein anatomy have become more appreciated, hence detailed knowledge of pulmonary venous anatomy and drainage patterns is important during mapping and ablation procedures.
References
Rajeshwari, M. S., & Ranganath, P. (2012). Variations in draining patterns of right pulmonary veins at the hilum and an anatomical classification. International Scholarly Research Notices, 2012.
My journey through my honours Biomedical Forensic Science degree has been nothing short of eye- opening and fascinating. From the moment I first walked into the laboratory, I knew that I was embarking on a path that would challenge me both intellectually and emotionally.
One of the most intriguing aspects of my degree has been the intersection of biology and the criminal justice system. Learning how to analyse biological evidence and apply it to criminal investigation has given me a whole new perspective on the importance of scientific rigor in the pursuit of justice. I have delved into the world of DNA analysis, bloodstain pattern analysis, and fingerprinting analysis, among other topics, and each has left me in awe of the intricate details that can be uncovered through the careful study of biological evidence.
There have been moments of immense joy and accomplishment during my degree, such as successfully extracting DNA from buccal swabs. These moments have solidified my passion for forensic science and reaffirmed my belief in the power of science to make a difference in people’s lives.
However, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing. Some aspects of my degree have posed significant challenges and forced me to confront the harsh realities that come with studying crime and its aftermath. Learning about the tragic stories behind the cases we analysed, has been emotionally draining at times. It has forced me to grapple with the ethical implications of my chosen field and question how forensic science can be used to empower victims and bring justice to those who have been wronged.
One of the most important lessons that my degree has taught me is the importance of objectivity. As forensic scientist, it is our responsibility to approach each case with an unbiased mindset and rely solely on the evidence presented.
In addition to the academic knowledge I have gained, my degree has also helped me develop numerous transferable skills. From effective communication and teamwork to critical thinking and problem-solving, I have honed these skills through hands-on laboratory work, group projects, and presentations. These skills will undoubtedly be invaluable as I navigate the post-graduation job market and continue to work in the field of forensic science.
Overall, my honours Biomedical Forensic Science degree has been a transformative experience. It has opened my eyes to the countless possibilities that come with a career in this field and has deepened my understanding of the complexities involved in solving crimes. As I look forward to the next chapter of my journey, I am excited to continue learning and growing in the field that I am so passionate about.
Coming from a small town, Stellenbosch, the idea of Cape Town has always been very daunting. But, to my surprise, I have met the most amazing people. I made a very special friend at the beginning of the year, that grew very close to my heart. This person always greeted me with the biggest smile and always asked me how I am doing. He really taught me that a smile and a friendly face can really make a big difference, even for a stranger. We became such good friends that I even started teaching him my home language, Afrikaans, on a daily basis. Every day he would give me a new interesting word, my favourite is “springmielies”. Wherever I go, I will never forget his kind heart.
The thing that I am most baffled with this year, is with how little amount of knowledge I stepped in here and how much more I know now. Thinking about it now, I will probably say the exact same thing next year this time around. I really learnt something new every single day. Another lesson I learnt this year, is that every person you meet in the field of academics, have something new to teach or show you. You will never truly understand and know everything and that is something I had to make peace with.
Between the many challenges our honours group had to fight through, from finding parking in the morning to repeating PCRs for unimaginable amount of times, I think we did a good job coming out the other end. Good things don’t come easy. We know now how hard you have to work to get results that you are proud of. That is all that matters at the end of the day, you should be happy with yourself and the work you have produced, because to be totally blunt no one else will care half as much as you do. At the end of this year, we are more patient, courageous and most definitely humbled.
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