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The Lyndonville Journal: The Astronaut's Story David S. Bell, MD, FAAP Published in Lyndonville News, November 2000 Preface: Astronauts face many tremendous challenges, one of which is not being able to walk when they return to earth's gravity. Their blood volume decreases because the lack of gravity in outer space causes nearly no venous pooling in the extremities, so when they return they are exhausted and can barely walk. We know all this now, but at the beginning of space travel, archaic ideas reigned. This story was related to me by a brilliant scientist who may have made it up. I cannot claim that it is true, but based upon modern parallels it just may be. Andrew Gordon, his friends called him Flash, was one of the great early astronauts. He trained day and night for his space flight and was in peak condition. After a successful two months in space, his ship landed perfectly, but Flash had to be helped out of the cockpit by the ground crew. "Welcome home, Flash," said the ground crew. "I am really tired," said Flash, "and I hurt like hell all over." The ground crew looked at each other with a bewildered look. "Congratulations, sir, you are a true hero," they said. "I feel awful, get me outta here." The ground crew helped him up and had to carry Flash over the rampway. "I don't know if I am going to fall asleep or faint," Flash said, "I feel really, really bad." The ground crew didn't know where to take him, he looked healthy but just lay there in the hall, out of breath, moaning about how exhausted he was. They took him into the psychiatrist's office. "What seems to be the matter?" asked Dr. Wilson. "I don't know, doc, I am totally exhausted." Flash said looking ragged. "You look pretty healthy to me, maybe a little depressed," Dr. Wilson said. "Is everything all right at home?" "How the hell should I know, I've been sitting up in space for the last two months." "You sound a bit depressed," Dr. Wilson said, "do you think your tiredness could be due to repressed fears?" "Are you crazy?" yelled Flash, "I am exhausted and tired, not depressed!" "Hmmm," said Dr. Wilson, "I can understand that you might not want to talk about it, it is a very common event." "Look," Flash said, trying to pull himself together, "I feel sick all over, I can't walk, I'm short of breath and having palpitations." "Maybe you're having a panic attack." Dr Wilson leaned back in his chair holding an unlit pipe. He'd had an awful time of it since they banned smoking in the facility. "It's not a panic attack, you idiot," Flash said leaning forward for the first time in the visit, "I'm sick." "You sound a little angry," Dr Wilson said tamping out the imaginary tobacco in his pipe, "were you ever abused as a child?" "Go to hell," Flash said. "Well, this seems pretty straight forward," Dr. Wilson said, ignoring the last remark. "You have a subthreshold personality conflict with aggressive tendencies, an anxiety disorder precipitated by self imposed social isolation. You did volunteer for this job, didn't you?" "Yes," Flash said feeling thoroughly depressed. "And I suppose it didn't help that I had to pee in my body suit for the last two months." Dr. Wilson neatly folded the papers on the desk. "In summary, you are tired because you are a complete fruitcake spending too much time in outer space. Lets get you on a little Prozac and you'll feel just fine in a few weeks." "Thank you so much, doctor," Flash said. After a ring on the intercom, the ground crew came in with a wheelchair and straight jacket.
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