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Famous last words
DISSECTING ROOM
LIFELINE Moira Brown Moira Brown is a virologist. She worked for 25 years at the Medical Research Council Virology Unit in Glasgow, and is now Professor of Neurovirology at the University of Glasgow. An expert on herpes simplex virus, she has been instrumental in the development of the virus as a tool in cancer therapy. Who was your most influential teacher, and why? John SubakSharpe, my former boss and continuing mentor. Sharp(e) in name and mind! Which research event has had most effect on your work, and why? In 1997, we put HSV1716, the virus we developed for cancer therapy, into the brain of a patient with recurrent glioma. This event was a world first and was the fruition of many years of fundamental research and determination to translate from “the bench to the patient”. The fact that he is still alive and well is an added bonus and makes me even more determined to push forward this approach to cancer therapy. What alternative therapies have you tried? Did they work? I regularly have aromatherapy massage, and yes, it works for me. What is your favourite book, and why? If we change favourite to indispensable then it is the Bible. I don’t see films (except on planes) or plays and I read so much that I cannot easily identify a favourite. Do politics, spirituality, or religion play an important part in your life? I am a committed Christian. I like to think of myself as spiritual but not religious. Politics just irritate me. What do you think is the most exciting field of science at the moment? Not the Human Genome project, not Drosophila, and not nematodes! I am excited by the possibilities of the new biotherapies and how they will revolutionise treatment. I just hope that we will not be hampered with mindsets that have not moved into the 21st century. What part of your work gives you the most pleasure? Translating ideas and hypotheses to results. Even at my age, I still jump up and down when we get exciting data.
162
Famous last words was talking to someone about death recently and I’ll tell you what prompted this in a moment. As far as death is concerned, I believe that it is definitely a good idea to try to go out in style and funerals should be a celebration of a person’s life, rather than a mourning for their departure. Nothing particularly unique in that. With this in mind, I have been given some thought to the music I would like played at my own funeral. I remember discussing music with a friend a few years ago and saying to him: “If there really is a heaven this is the sort of stuff they will be playing.” I then rose and put on my tape of the music to The Gadfly by Shostakovitch to let him hear the wonderful “Romance”. He seemed to enjoy it but did not say very much. Well, less than a year later he died of cancer and I attended his cremation. Just as the coffin started to disappear from view the strains of Shostakovitch swelled up from somewhere at the back of the crematorium. Tears welled up in my eyes. At least I had been of some use to him during his life. My problem is that I love music and I have sketched out a plan of the stuff I want played at my own cremation. It’s not all highbrow, of course, although there is a bit of Faure’s Requiem in addition to the Shostakovitch, some Mozart and a little Puccini. For balance, there is also “Way down yonder in New Orleans” played by the Dutch Swing College Band and a bit of Charles Trenet, but the jury is still out on Kurt Weill and Nicola di Bari. The trouble is that I will need a service lasting at least 2 hours to get through it all. Although I am sure my friends and relatives love me dearly (well, I am not all that sure
I
to be honest) I feel this may be stretching their patience a bit too far— even although I intend to leave substantial funds for consolatory whisky. And what prompted me to think about death? Well. actually, it was Danny, the guy who cleans my windows. He is quite a character who is really plugged into what is happening in the city where I live. Just 10 minutes with Danny and I know everything about what is going on and what will be going on for the next 6 months— you name it, cinema, theatre, pop concerts, he knows. He is also a real entrepreneur since I often see him in town washing the windows of major department stores. I am grateful that he takes the time to do a pretty minor job like our house windows. However, to our tale. Poor Danny’s father died recently. He had been admitted to hospital with terminal cancer and he hated every minute of it, especially what he regarded as “fussing” by the nursing staff. One evening Danny got a call to say that they thought his father was about to die and Danny hurried along to the hospital immediately. Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, his father had gone. Seeing the look of disappointment on his face, one of the nurses asked, “Would you like to know your father’s last words?” “Yes, of course”, replied Danny. Well, it appeared that he had been comatose for some time but when they were changing his drip he opened his eyes and looked straight at them. “F*** off” he said then closed his eyes for the last time. OK it may not have been very poetic but it certainly beats George V’s “Bugger Bognor.” David Jack
THE LANCET • Vol 358 • July 14, 2001
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
LIFELINE Moira Brown Moira Brown is a virologist. She worked for 25 years at the Medical Research Council Virology Unit in Glasgow, and is now Professor of Neurovirology at the University of Glasgow. An expert on herpes simplex virus, she has been instrumental in the development of the virus as a tool in cancer therapy. Who was your most influential teacher, and why? John SubakSharpe, my former boss and continuing mentor. Sharp(e) in name and mind! Which research event has had most effect on your work, and why? In 1997, we put HSV1716, the virus we developed for cancer therapy, into the brain of a patient with recurrent glioma. This event was a world first and was the fruition of many years of fundamental research and determination to translate from “the bench to the patient”. The fact that he is still alive and well is an added bonus and makes me even more determined to push forward this approach to cancer therapy. What alternative therapies have you tried? Did they work? I regularly have aromatherapy massage, and yes, it works for me. What is your favourite book, and why? If we change favourite to indispensable then it is the Bible. I don’t see films (except on planes) or plays and I read so much that I cannot easily identify a favourite. Do politics, spirituality, or religion play an important part in your life? I am a committed Christian. I like to think of myself as spiritual but not religious. Politics just irritate me. What do you think is the most exciting field of science at the moment? Not the Human Genome project, not Drosophila, and not nematodes! I am excited by the possibilities of the new biotherapies and how they will revolutionise treatment. I just hope that we will not be hampered with mindsets that have not moved into the 21st century. What part of your work gives you the most pleasure? Translating ideas and hypotheses to results. Even at my age, I still jump up and down when we get exciting data.
162
Famous last words was talking to someone about death recently and I’ll tell you what prompted this in a moment. As far as death is concerned, I believe that it is definitely a good idea to try to go out in style and funerals should be a celebration of a person’s life, rather than a mourning for their departure. Nothing particularly unique in that. With this in mind, I have been given some thought to the music I would like played at my own funeral. I remember discussing music with a friend a few years ago and saying to him: “If there really is a heaven this is the sort of stuff they will be playing.” I then rose and put on my tape of the music to The Gadfly by Shostakovitch to let him hear the wonderful “Romance”. He seemed to enjoy it but did not say very much. Well, less than a year later he died of cancer and I attended his cremation. Just as the coffin started to disappear from view the strains of Shostakovitch swelled up from somewhere at the back of the crematorium. Tears welled up in my eyes. At least I had been of some use to him during his life. My problem is that I love music and I have sketched out a plan of the stuff I want played at my own cremation. It’s not all highbrow, of course, although there is a bit of Faure’s Requiem in addition to the Shostakovitch, some Mozart and a little Puccini. For balance, there is also “Way down yonder in New Orleans” played by the Dutch Swing College Band and a bit of Charles Trenet, but the jury is still out on Kurt Weill and Nicola di Bari. The trouble is that I will need a service lasting at least 2 hours to get through it all. Although I am sure my friends and relatives love me dearly (well, I am not all that sure
I
to be honest) I feel this may be stretching their patience a bit too far— even although I intend to leave substantial funds for consolatory whisky. And what prompted me to think about death? Well. actually, it was Danny, the guy who cleans my windows. He is quite a character who is really plugged into what is happening in the city where I live. Just 10 minutes with Danny and I know everything about what is going on and what will be going on for the next 6 months— you name it, cinema, theatre, pop concerts, he knows. He is also a real entrepreneur since I often see him in town washing the windows of major department stores. I am grateful that he takes the time to do a pretty minor job like our house windows. However, to our tale. Poor Danny’s father died recently. He had been admitted to hospital with terminal cancer and he hated every minute of it, especially what he regarded as “fussing” by the nursing staff. One evening Danny got a call to say that they thought his father was about to die and Danny hurried along to the hospital immediately. Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, his father had gone. Seeing the look of disappointment on his face, one of the nurses asked, “Would you like to know your father’s last words?” “Yes, of course”, replied Danny. Well, it appeared that he had been comatose for some time but when they were changing his drip he opened his eyes and looked straight at them. “F*** off” he said then closed his eyes for the last time. OK it may not have been very poetic but it certainly beats George V’s “Bugger Bognor.” David Jack
THE LANCET • Vol 358 • July 14, 2001
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.