Why Time Slows Down When We’re Afraid, Speeds Up as We Age, and Gets Warped on Vacation.


Time perception matters because it is the experience of time that roots us in our mental reality.”

Given my soft spot for famous diaries, it should come as no surprise that I keep one myself. Perhaps the greatest gift of the practice has been the daily habit of reading what I had written on that day a year earlier; not only is it a remarkable tool of introspection and self-awareness, but it also illustrates that our memory “is never a precise duplicate of the original [but] a continuing act of creation” and how flawed our perception of time is — almost everything that occurred a year ago appears as having taken place either significantly further in the past (“a different lifetime,” I’d often marvel at this time-illusion) or significantly more recently (“this feels like just last month!”). Rather than a personal deficiency of those of us befallen by this tendency, however, it turns out to be a defining feature of how the human mind works, the science of which is at first unsettling, then strangely comforting, and altogether intensely interesting.

That’s precisely what acclaimed BBC broadcaster and psychology writer Claudia Hammond explores in Time Warped: Unlocking the Mysteries of Time Perception (public library) — a fascinating foray into the idea that our experience of time is actively created by our own minds and how these sensations of what neuroscientists and psychologists call “mind time” are created. As disorienting as the concept might seem — after all, we’ve been nursed on the belief that time is one of those few utterly reliable and objective things in life — it is also strangely empowering to think that the very phenomenon depicted as the unforgiving dictator of life is something we might be able to shape and benefit from. Hammond writes:

We construct the experience of time in our minds, so it follows that we are able to change the elements we find troubling — whether it’s trying to stop the years racing past, or speeding up time when we’re stuck in a queue, trying to live more in the present, or working out how long ago we last saw our old friends. Time can be a friend, but it can also be an enemy. The trick is to harness it, whether at home, at work, or even in social policy, and to work in line with our conception of time. Time perception matters because it is the experience of time that roots us in our mental reality. Time is not only at the heart of the way we organize life, but the way we experience it.

Discus chronologicus, a depiction of time by German engraver Christoph Weigel, published in the early 1720s; from Cartographies of Time. (Click for details)

Among the most intriguing illustrations of “mind time” is the incredible elasticity of how we experience time. (“Where is it, this present?,” William James famously wondered. “It has melted in our grasp, fled ere we could touch it, gone in the instant of becoming.”) For instance, Hammond points out, we slow time down when gripped by mortal fear — the cliche about the slow-motion car crash is, in fact, a cognitive reality. This plays out even in situations that aren’t life-or-death per se but are still associated with strong feelings of fear. Hammond points to a study in which people with arachnophobia were asked to look at spiders — the very object of their intense fear — for 45 seconds and they overestimated the elapsed time. The same pattern was observed in novice skydivers, who estimated the duration of their peers’ falls as short, whereas their own, from the same altitude, were deemed longer.

Inversely, time seems to speed up as we get older — a phenomenon of which competing theories have attempted to make light. One, known as the “proportionality theory,” uses pure mathematics, holding that a year feels faster when you’re 40 than when you’re 8 because it only constitutes one fortieth of your life rather than a whole eighth. Among its famous proponents are Vladimir Nabokov and William James. But Hammond remains unconvinced:

The problem with the proportionality theory is that it fails to account for the way we experience time at any one moment. We don’t judge one day in the context of our whole lives. If we did, then for a 40-year-old every single day should flash by because it is less than one fourteen-thousandth of the life they’ve had so far. It should be fleeting and inconsequential, yet if you have nothing to do or an enforced wait at an airport for example, a day at 40 can still feel long and boring and surely longer than a fun day at the seaside packed with adventure for a child. … It ignores attention and emotion, which … can have a considerable impact on time perception.

Another theory suggests that perhaps it is the tempo of life in general that has accelerated, making things from the past appear as slower, including the passage of time itself.

But one definite change does take place with age: As we grow older, we tend to feel like the previous decade elapsed more rapidly, while the earlier decades of our lives seem to have lasted longer. Similarly, we tend to think of events that took place in the past 10 years as having happened more recently than they actually did. (Quick: What year did the devastating Japanese tsunami hit? When did we love Maurice Sendak?) Conversely, we perceive events that took place more than a decade ago as having happened even longer ago. (When did Princess Diana die? What year was the Chernobyl disaster?) This, Hammond points out, is known as “forward telescoping”:

It is as though time has been compressed and — as if looking through a telescope — things seem closer than they really are. The opposite is called backward or reverse telescoping, also known as time expansion. This is when you guess that events happened longer ago than they really did. This is rare for distant events, but not uncommon for recent weeks.

[…]

The most straightforward explanation for it is called the clarity of memory hypothesis, proposed by the psychologist Norman Bradburn in 1987. This is the simple idea that because we know that memories fade over time, we use the clarity of a memory as a guide to its recency. So if a memory seems unclear we assume it happened longer ago.

And yet the brain does keep track of time, even if inaccurately. Hammond explains the factors that come into play with our inner chronometry:

It is clear that however the brain counts time, it has a system that is very flexible. It takes account of [factors like] emotions, absorption, expectations, the demands of a task and even the temperature .The precise sense we are using also makes a difference; an auditory event appears longer than a visual one. Yet somehow the experience of time created by the mind feels very real, so real that we feel we know what to expect from it, and are perpetually surprised whenever it confuses us by warping.

In fact, memory — which is itself a treacherous act of constant transformation with each recollection — is intricately related to this warping process:

We know that time has an impact on memory, but it is also memory that creates and shapes our experience of time. Our perception of the past moulds our experience of time in the present to a greater degree than we might realize. It is memory that creates the peculiar, elastic properties of time. It not only gives us the ability to conjure up a past experience at will, but to reflect on those thoughts through autonoetic consciousness — the sense that we have of ourselves as existing across time — allowing us to re-experience a situation mentally and to step outside those memories to consider their accuracy.

But, curiously, we are most likely to vividly remember experiences we had between the ages of 15 and 25. What the social sciences might simply call “nostalgia” psychologists have termed the “reminiscence bump” and, Hammond argues, it could be the key to why we feel like time speeds up as we get older:

The reminiscence bump involves not only the recall of incidents; we even remember more scenes from the films we saw and the books we read in our late teens and early twenties. … The bump can be broken down even further — the big news events that we remember best tend to have happened earlier in the bump, while our most memorable personal experiences are in the second half.

[…]

The key to the reminiscence bump is novelty. The reason we remember our youth so well is that it is a period where we have more new experiences than in our thirties or forties. It’s a time for firsts — first sexual relationships, first jobs, first travel without parents, first experience of living away from home, the first time we get much real choice over the way we spend our days. Novelty has such a strong impact on memory that even within the bump we remember more from the start of each new experience.

Most fascinating of all, however, is the reason the “reminiscence bump” happens in the first place: Hammond argues that because memory and identity are so closely intertwined, it is in those formative years, when we’re constructing our identity and finding our place in the world, that our memory latches onto particularly vivid details in order to use them later in reinforcing that identity. Interestingly, Hammond points out, people who undergo a major transformation of identity later in life — say, changing careers or coming out — tend to experience a second identity bump, which helps them reconcile and consolidate their new identity.

So what makes us date events more accurately? Hammond sums up the research:

You are most likely to remember the timing of an event if it was distinctive, vivid, personally involving and is a tale you have recounted many times since.

But one of the most enchanting instances of time-warping is what Hammond calls the Holiday Paradox — “the contradictory feeling that a good holiday whizzes by, yet feels long when you look back.” (An “American translation” might term it the Vacation Paradox.) Her explanation of its underlying mechanisms is reminiscent of legendary psychologist Daniel Kahneman’s theory of the clash between the “experiencing self” and the “remembering self”. Hammond explains:

The Holiday Paradox is caused by the fact that we view time in our minds in two very different ways — prospectively and retrospectively. Usually these two perspectives match up, but it is in all the circumstances where we remark on the strangeness of time that they don’t.

[…]

We constantly use both prospective and retrospective estimation to gauge time’s passing. Usually they are in equilibrium, but notable experiences disturb that equilibrium, sometimes dramatically. This is also the reason we never get used to it, and never will. We will continue to perceive time in two ways and continue to be struck by its strangeness every time we go on holiday.

Like the “reminiscence bump,” the Holiday Paradox has to do with the quality and concentration of new experiences, especially in contrast to familiar daily routines. During ordinary life, time appears to pass at a normal pace, and we use markers like the start of the workday, weekends, and bedtime to assess the rhythm of things. But once we go on vacation, the stimulation of new sights, sounds, and experiences injects a disproportionate amount of novelty that causes these two types of time to misalign. The result is a warped perception of time.

Ultimately, this source of great mystery and frustration also holds the promise of great liberation and empowerment. Hammond concludes:

We will never have total control over this extraordinary dimension. Time will warp and confuse and baffle and entertain however much we learn about its capacities. But the more we learn, the more we can shape it to our will and destiny. We can slow it down or speed it up. We can hold on to the past more securely and predict the future more accurately. Mental time-travel is one of the greatest gifts of the mind. It makes us human, and it makes us special.

Time Warped, a fine addition to these essential reads on time, goes on to explore such philosophically intriguing and practically useful questions as how our internal clocks dictate our lives, what the optimal pace of productivity might be, and why inhabiting life with presence is the only real way to master time. Pair it with this remarkable visual history of humanity’s depictions of time.

New guideline takes on tough HER2 cases.


In HER2 testing for breast cancer, the term “equivocal” verges on being afour-letter word. If the patient has a clearly positive test result, therapies targeting HER2 become a treatment option, and a highly successful one at that. If the result is clearly negative, HER2-targeting drugs are off the table; the patient isn’t expected to benefit from the drugs, which are expensive and can be cardiotoxic.

But if the result isn’t clear? David Hicks, MD, can still remember the first time he reported a HER2 breast cancer result as “equivocal.”

Dr. Antonio Wolff says that over the years, many physicians have asked about the so-called best, most accurate test for HER2. In the new guideline, “We have taken the tack that it’s not an issue of which test is right, among those linked with clinical outcome, but whether the test selected is done right.”

Dr. Antonio Wolff says that over the years, many physicians have asked about the so-called best, most accurate test for HER2. In the new guideline, “We have taken the tack that it’s not an issue of which test is right, among those linked with clinical outcome, but whether the test selected is done right.”

“The medical oncologist called me and said, ‘I liked it much more when it was positive or negative,’” recalls Dr. Hicks, professor of pathology and laboratory medicine and director of surgical pathology, University of Rochester (NY) Medical Center.

Dr. Hicks is also a practicing breast pathologist and thus no stranger to the difficult HER2 cases that bedevil his physician colleagues and patients. Equivocal results aren’t the only challenges. What’s the best way to handle tumor heterogeneity? What about HER2 genotypic abnormalities, like aneusomy of chromosome 17; colocalization of HER2 and CEP17 signals that affect HER2/CEP17 ratio in dual-signal in situ hybridization assays; and genomic heterogeneity?

Such “rogue” cases, as Dr. Hicks calls them, should become easier for both pathologists and medical oncologists to manage with the arrival of a newly updated HER2 testing guideline issued by the American Society of Clinical Oncology and the CAP. The guideline, published online Oct. 7 in Archives of Pathology & Laboratory Medicine (archivesofpathology.org) and Journal of Clinical Oncology (jco.ascopubs.org), updates the previous guideline, which appeared in 2007.

“We provide clear instructions and clear recommendations on how to handle difficult cases and how to reduce areas of uncertainty,’’ says Antonio Wolff, MD, who was the principal oncologist author of both guidelines.

The guideline also simplifies fixation time for HER2 specimens, bringing requirements in line with those for ER/PgR assays. This is a change that Dr. Hicks—another of the guideline’s authors—predicts will be “helpful and welcome news” for pathologists. And it defines bright-field ISH as a valid test platform for assessing HER2 amplification.

Dr. Hicks

Dr. Hicks

All these highly specific recommendations bring a new level of harmoniousness to HER2 testing—one that took considerable effort to achieve. HER2 testing puts in sharp relief two of medicine’s rival geometries. Medical oncologists, naturally, prefer to travel in a straight line, from test result to treatment. Pathologists, just as naturally, find it difficult to stick to that unswerving path. As Elizabeth Hammond, MD, the principal pathologist author of both the new guideline and the earlier one, says, “Unfortunately, cancer biology doesn’t work in a straightforward manner.” But with their latest guideline, the authors hope the odds that both parties will arrive together at agreeable answers have just gone up.

Above all, the guideline emphasizes the need for action. HER2 testing acts as a traffic light for HER2-targeted therapy, and idling at a yellow light indefinitely is not an option.

Yet pathologists are understandably leery of expressing a higher level of certainty than they feel, says Dr. Hammond, professor of pathology, University of Utah School of Medicine, and consultant pathologist, Intermountain Healthcare, Salt Lake City. For them, an “equivocal” result, for example, may well be not only an accurate answer but also the responsible one. But on its own, it doesn’t help the oncologist much. “The result you give needs to be something that helps the clinician make treatment decisions for the patient.”

In that sense, the guideline underscores the notion that test results can be seen as the start of a treatment, not the end of an assay, and that the role of the pathologist in patient care is an active one. Or, as Dr. Hicks puts it, “We’re not just someone who generates a result and throws it over the fence.”

As the guideline’s authors began their discussions in early 2012, they had plenty to talk about.

There has been, for example, no shortage of concern or confusion about how in situ hybridization tests were being counted, says Dr. Hammond. As a result, she says, “We spent a lot of time as a panel dealing with this.”

The guideline’s writers had a tough challenge. According to Dr. Hicks, their first thought was to set HER2 positive at 10 percent of cells with strong staining. But the definition for FISH was an average number over 40 or 60 nuclei. The two methods—cell-by-cell evaluation versus counting multiple nuclei—aren’t necessarily simpatico, however. Because of heterogeneity, a FISH result will depend on which nuclei are being counted. If 10 percent are amplified and 90 percent are not, but nuclei in the nonamplified area are counted, the result will be a 10 percent IHC positive with a HER2-negative FISH result.

The current authors recognized that earlier guidance was not specific enough in cases where tumor heterogeneity was an issue. “The method that we were advocating before was not the right method for finding small populations of tumor cells that might be amplified,” Dr. Hammond says, given that those small populations might have important implications.

 

Dr. Hammond

Dr. Hammond

In the past, pathologists were mostly doing a random counting of the tumor population, she says. Now, per the new guideline, the pathologist needs to scan the entire ISH slide prior to counting at least 20 cells; areas of potential amplification must be included; and those areas of amplification must be separately counted and reported. “This gives a much better chance that a patient will have an opportunity to get a positive result if there are any amplified or heterogeneous elements in their tumor by this FISH or ISH test method,” Dr. Hammond says.
Dr. Hicks, who has been using the new approach, says it should eliminate discordant cases due to intratumoral heterogeneity. “I think we got that right. Time will tell.” Panel members wanted the guideline to be as evidence-based as possible. “But sometimes, even when there are limitations in our knowledge, guidance needs to be provided. You have to start someplace. As Liz finally said, ‘Well, I think this is the best we can do,’” until more data become available.

Tumor heterogeneity appears to occur more frequently than previously thought, and there’s been concern and plenty of questions about how physicians can be certain the tumor block selected for testing is representative of the patient’s tumor. Dr. Hammond says, “We can never know that. So you have to make a rational decision about how much of a tumor you need to examine to get the right answer.”

The new guideline also takes on the equivocal category. Most notably, it aligns the ASCO/CAP equivocal category with that recommended by the FDA.

When the first guideline was written, says Dr. Hammond, “Our principal concern with HER2 testing was false-positives.” That concern led to one of the more vexing issues in HER2 testing. In the clinical trials for Herceptin, patients were considered positive for HER2 if their tumors contained more than 10 percent cells staining 3+ for HER2. The 2007 guideline writers chose a higher cutoff—more than 30 percent of cells because the panelists unanimously felt that almost all truly positive cases would have higher percentages of staining cells. Says Dr. Hammond: “We felt that tightening the threshold and being more specific about what constituted a positive would help limit the numbers of false-positives.”

Even as they did so, they knew the differing cutoffs might be confusing for practitioners, says Dr. Wolff, professor of oncology, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. But they had reasons for doing so.

Dr. Hammond calls setting the threshold at 30 percent “highly conservative. I still believe that’s the case.” In fact, she says, if proper specimen handling procedures are followed, the group of patients who fell into the previous equivocal category (that is, between 10 and 30 percent staining as 3+ positive) would be quite low. One retrospective paper (Perez EA, et al. J Natl Cancer Inst. 2012;104:159–162) considered patient eligibility for one of the trastuzumab adjuvant trials using both cutoffs and found that 3.7 percent of patients who met the FDA cutoff would have been declared ineligible by the ASCO/CAP criterion. “This high percentage would happen, though, only if recommendations from the 2007 guideline were ignored and reflex testing wasn’t done,” she says.

Therefore, Dr. Wolff says, physicians can set those concerns to rest. In a letter published in JNCI last year (Wolff AC, et al. 2012;104:957–958), he says, “We reanalyzed those data, and the actual number of patients affected would be about 0.2 percent of all patients newly diagnosed with breast cancer”—less, he adds, than the observed variability of various commercial assays in clinical use.

Dr. Hammond points out that the study population in the Perez paper consisted of patients who were put on clinical trials in the early 2000s before any specimen handling requirements were implemented. Wide acceptance of those requirements has lowered the false-positive rate since publication of the guideline in 2007. “We don’t believe this [the new guideline] is going to make any significant increase in the number of false-positives,” she says. It may even help curb them further, she adds.

Likewise, laboratories have shown a “meaningful increase” in participating in HER2 proficiency testing, Dr. Wolff says, adding that efforts to improve HER2 testing have gone beyond pathologists and oncologists, with health systems at large increasingly comprehending the need to provide the resources to implement accurate, standardized, and reproducible predictive biomarker testing, including proper handling of tissue specimens before they reach the pathology lab.

Might such improvements alone have led to a drop in equivocal cases, even without changing the threshold?

“That’s a great question, and I wish I knew the answer to it,” Dr. Hammond says. “Data from some large centers suggest so, and in my own laboratory, that is in fact the case.” Implementing careful specimen handling has had a dramatic effect on producing better pathology results at Intermountain, both by IHC and FISH, she says. In the past, perhaps up to 10 percent of cases would need a repeat FISH test. Her lab also has a “very, very small” number of patients who fell into the equivocal categories under the old guideline either by FISH or IHC, she says.
Nevertheless, she agrees using consistent criteria will help create standardized behavior. And, she adds, “We don’t want to create confusion.”

Concerns were raised about the 2007 guideline’s equivocal category for FISH, Dr. Hammond says. In the FDA guideline and in the clinical trials, a threshold of 2.0 was set to qualify patients for treatment. In the ASCO/CAP guideline, however, the authors said that, based on package inserts provided by assay manufacturers, a HER2/CEP17 ratio of 1.8 to 2.2 would be better considered equivocal rather than positive or negative, since they were within two standard deviations of the standard error of that measurement, says Dr. Hammond.

Now, the result is considered equivocal when the dual-probe HER2/CEP17 ratio is < 2.0 with an average HER2 copy number  4.0 and < 6.0 signals/cell.
As an example, Dr. Wolff says confusion occurs in cases in which there is evidence of coamplification in the region recognized by the CEP17 probe. “If that happens,” he says, “you could end up in

a situation where you have, say, an average HER2 signal copy number of six or seven, but also an increase of the average number of CEP17 copies detected to, say, four.” The result will be a ratio of less than two. Relying solely on that ratio, the pathologist runs the risk of calling the tumor nonamplified. “When in reality, we now recognized the occasional coamplification of the CEP17 region identified by the centromere probe. The new guideline mandates that such cases will have another HER2 test performed.

“The biggest message,” Dr. Wolff continues, “is that we ask physicians not only to look at the ratio alone, but actually to look at the individual average number of HER2 copies, which is provided in the numerator, because this can help with difficult cases.”

Again, the 2007 authors had their reasons for choosing the cutoffs they did. The equivocal category was created not to exclude patients from treatment, but to trigger additional testing. Unfortunately, it also led to confusion and controversy.

“Because it was within the error of the measurement,” says Dr. Hammond, “we felt it was useful for oncologists and pathologists to understand that the accuracy of a FISH estimate in that range might be affected by variability. But many of our colleagues later expressed concerns and preferred that we follow that same threshold provided in the clinical trial.”
Their desire is simple to understand, she says. “They want so much to find patients who are going to be HER2 positive.”

Medical oncologists might have been happier if the authors had just bid adieu to the equivocal category with this latest guideline. “We actually tried to get rid of it,” Dr. Hammond says. “But we could not do so. There always is an equivocal category, but we think we narrowed it considerably.”

That might have a bright side. The problem might not be with an equivocal result per se, but with viewing it as a final answer or the end of the discussion. As the authors of the new guideline emphasize, some difficult cases (including those with an equivocal result) will continue to exist and should start conversations.
Indeed, that’s what happened when they began to revise the guidelines and tried to answer the tough questions they face routinely in their own practices. “Most of us are practicing oncologists and practicing pathologists” as well as researchers, Dr. Wolff says.

Dr. Hammond calls the discussions “lively” but says they led to a strong document. It wasn’t unusual, she says, for her and Dr. Wolff to disagree about a subject initially or to reflect the differing opinions between medical oncologists and pathologists. “But when we talked it through, we were very much aligned, because both of us just wanted an accurate test result for the patient.” Yes, these conversations take time, and yes, they can be—temporarily—disconcerting. “But it’s worthwhile,” says Dr. Hammond. “It’s better than talking to yourself.”

Fortunately, not every case requires donnish oversight. “The cases we struggle with are very rare—one, two, three percent of the breast cancer population,” says Dr. Hicks. But little wonder the discussions were animated—there are few data on how to help this small subset of patients with unusual tumors.

Dr. Hicks would like to see those discussions continue in clinical practice. “It would be wonderful if after the guidelines are out, at every tumor board across the country, a pathologist sat up there and presented the changes and led a discussion about how this is going to affect the management of breast cancer in that institution going forward.”

As physicians familiarize themselves with the new guideline, they’ll be able to ask better questions about what test results mean. Dr. Hicks draws attention to the language in the guideline that asks medical oncologists and pathologists to confer on difficult cases, including thinking about HER2 results in the context of the patient’s histology. It’s a new spin on personalized medicine, distilled to answering a basic question: Does this make sense for this particular patient?

That may sound like an obvious question to ask, but in practice it wasn’t happening enough. “We describe the importance of ensuring that the assay results are concordant with the other histopathologic features,” Dr. Wolff says. Take a tubular breast cancer that is low grade and ER/PgR positive, for example. If the HER2 result for the tumor is positive, “those data don’t match in principle,” he says. In situations with such apparent histopathologic discordance, “We ask the pathologist and the oncologist to look back and examine the case as a whole” and consider additional testing if appropriate.

How have discordant results been handled up to now? “It really varied,” Dr. Wolff says. More experienced practitioners would catch the discrepancy, he says, and realize “something wasn’t quite right.” By formalizing this as a recommendation, even those who don’t specialize in breast pathology or breast oncology will know what to do.

Conversation is critical, says Dr. Wolff, but it “doesn’t happen as easily as we would like it to happen. By putting it in the document, we want to make that the norm.”

Similarly, the guideline gives specific recommendations listing the individual steps that pathologists and oncologists need to take as HER2 testing unfolds. “You can’t duck responsibility,” says Dr. Hammond.

It also provides specific guidance for patient and clinician conversations about HER2 testing. “Words matter,” says Dr. Wolff. “We spent a lot of time going over the meaning of everything we wrote.” Nothing, it seems, was left to chance.

That being said, tough cases, like the equivocal category, aren’t disappearing anytime soon. And just as this guideline reflects better knowledge and growing experience, so, too, will future changes create more challenges.

“We tried to do our best, but we’re very honest in saying we may not have covered everything,” Dr. Wolff says, “and we may not have gotten everything right. We did our best with the information available.” It’s inevitable that new classes of HER2 test results not covered in the guideline will become apparent once more data are available. Hence the need to keep the conversation going.

Some of those conversations will be sparked by new technologies, another topic that’s taken up in the new guideline.

While there’s plenty of interest in HER2 serum testing and RT-PCR, the only new platform endorsed in the guideline is FDA-approved bright-field in situ hybridization. The evidence for other methods was insufficient to warrant a recommendation right now. Conversely, the guideline notes, bright-field ISH measures gene amplification, which has clear clinical utility—it was the biological criterion used in prospective clinical trials. It shows high concordance levels with other ISH methods using FISH, and it appears to be reproducible across laboratories.
Bright-field offers another option for labs that currently offer only IHC testing. “That might be a much more interesting way for pathologists to operate,” Dr. Hammond says. While it brings challenges, it will also allow such labs to thoroughly examine the tumor in a way they likely didn’t before, she says.

Labs will also have more flexibility in specimen handling, thanks to other changes in the guideline.

Recognizing the need to further standardize preanalytical variables, the authors have extended the fixation time for HER2 specimens. Now, the fixation time is six to 72 hours, bringing it in line with the times used for ER/PgR testing. In the 2007 guideline, the time was six to 48 hours.

Another change addresses sample procurement. While the 2007 guideline implied that a tumor excisional sample was preferable because it provided more cells for study, says Dr. Hicks, HER2 testing on needle core biopsies has increased in recent years. The new guideline says the needle core biopsies are acceptable, though with clearly defined caveats.
“I think what’s been happening is people are doing the HER2 on the needles—if they’re negative, they’re calling them HER2 negative, and they’re not repeating the test,” says Dr. Hicks. “That may be fine 90, 95 percent of the time. But for that small number of patients who really are HER2 positive, and the needle didn’t get to that part of the tumor, they’re missing an opportunity to have a potentially life-prolonging or life-saving treatment.”

As with other difficult cases, the authors spent plenty of time grappling with this issue. Ultimately, they called for repeat testing in cases where the tumor is high grade; if there’s a limited amount of tissue on the needle core biopsy; if the needle core result falls into the equivocal range; or if the excisional sample contains a different component from that found on the core. The guideline also specifies the type of case when repeat testing is not warranted: if the test is negative and the tumor is grade one and strongly ER/PgR positive.

Even as the new guideline aims for clarity, no one expects it to be the final word on HER2 testing.

If anything, pressure to improve testing will only grow down the road. New studies are exploring the possibility of treating patients with HER2-targeted antibodies without chemotherapy, Dr. Wolff says. “In that situation we have to be incredibly clear and certain that the tumor is HER2 positive or not. Because we could be in a situation where a patient might only receive HER2-targeted treatments in the future.”

When it comes time for another update, the authors will have a good model to follow, says Dr. Hicks: this most recent panel. “More than anything, we are grateful for all the hard work by the guideline panel members and staff from CAP and ASCO.”

No one expects guidelines to be chiseled in stone like commandments. Even if nothing changed— and when was the last time that happened in medicine?—“At some point people start saying, ‘This is an old guideline. It can’t be valid anymore,’” says Dr. Wolff. With the 2007 guideline, “We knew all along that at some point we would need to update the document. And we’ve been more or less waiting for that moment. Now was the time.”

 

Source:  CAP TODAY 

Why Time Slows Down When We’re Afraid, Speeds Up as We Age, and Gets Warped on Vacation.


Time perception matters because it is the experience of time that roots us in our mental reality.”

cartographiesoftime3

Given my soft spot for famous diaries, it should come as no surprise that I keep one myself. Perhaps the greatest gift of the practice has been the daily habit of reading what I had written on that day a year earlier; not only is it a remarkable tool of introspection and self-awareness, but it also illustrates that our memory “is never a precise duplicate of the original [but] a continuing act of creation” and how flawed our perception of time is — almost everything that occurred a year ago appears as having taken place either significantly further in the past (“a different lifetime,” I’d often marvel at this time-illusion) or significantly more recently (“this feels like just last month!”). Rather than a personal deficiency of those of us befallen by this tendency, however, it turns out to be a defining feature of how the human mind works, the science of which is at first unsettling, then strangely comforting, and altogether intensely interesting.

timewarped1

That’s precisely what acclaimed BBC broadcaster and psychology writerClaudia Hammond explores in Time Warped: Unlocking the Mysteries of Time Perception (public library) — a fascinating foray into the idea that our experience of time is actively created by our own minds and how these sensations of what neuroscientists and psychologists call “mind time” are created. As disorienting as the concept might seem — after all, we’ve been nursed on the belief that time is one of those few utterly reliable and objective things in life — it is also strangely empowering to think that the very phenomenon depicted as the unforgiving dictator of life is something we might be able to shape and benefit from. Hammond writes:

We construct the experience of time in our minds, so it follows that we are able to change the elements we find troubling — whether it’s trying to stop the years racing past, or speeding up time when we’re stuck in a queue, trying to live more in the present, or working out how long ago we last saw our old friends. Time can be a friend, but it can also be an enemy. The trick is to harness it, whether at home, at work, or even in social policy, and to work in line with our conception of time. Time perception matters because it is the experience of time that roots us in our mental reality. Time is not only at the heart of the way we organize life, but the way we experience it.

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Among the most intriguing illustrations of “mind time” is the incredible elasticity of how we experience time. (“Where is it, this present?,” William James famously wondered“It has melted in our grasp, fled ere we could touch it, gone in the instant of becoming.”) For instance, Hammond points out, we slow time down when gripped by mortal fear — the cliche about the slow-motion car crash is, in fact, a cognitive reality. This plays out even in situations that aren’t life-or-death per se but are still associated with strong feelings of fear. Hammond points to a study in which people with arachnophobia were asked to look at spiders — the very object of their intense fear — for 45 seconds and they overestimated the elapsed time. The same pattern was observed in novice skydivers, who estimated the duration of their peers’ falls as short, whereas their own, from the same altitude, were deemed longer.

Inversely, time seems to speed up as we get older — a phenomenon of which competing theories have attempted to make light. One, known as the “proportionality theory,” uses pure mathematics, holding that a year feels faster when you’re 40 than when you’re 8 because it only constitutes one fortieth of your life rather than a whole eighth. Among its famous proponents are Vladimir Nabokov and William James. But Hammond remains unconvinced.

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The problem with the proportionality theory is that it fails to account for the way we experience time at any one moment. We don’t judge one day in the context of our whole lives. If we did, then for a 40-year-old every single day should flash by because it is less than one fourteen-thousandth of the life they’ve had so far. It should be fleeting and inconsequential, yet if you have nothing to do or an enforced wait at an airport for example, a day at 40 can still feel long and boring and surely longer than a fun day at the seaside packed with adventure for a child. … It ignores attention and emotion, which … can have a considerable impact on time perception.

Another theory suggests that perhaps it is the tempo of life in general that has accelerated, making things from the past appear as slower, including the passage of time itself.

But one definite change does take place with age: As we grow older, we tend to feel like the previous decade elapsed more rapidly, while the earlier decades of our lives seem to have lasted longer. Similarly, we tend to think of events that took place in the past 10 years as having happened more recently than they actually did. (Quick: What year did the devastating Japanese tsunami hit? When did we love Maurice Sendak?) Conversely, we perceive events that took place more than a decade ago as having happened even longer ago. (When did Princess Diana die? What year was the Chernobyl disaster?) This, Hammond points out, is known as “forward telescoping”:

It is as though time has been compressed and — as if looking through a telescope — things seem closer than they really are. The opposite is called backward or reverse telescoping, also known as time expansion. This is when you guess that events happened longer ago than they really did. This is rare for distant events, but not uncommon for recent weeks.

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The most straightforward explanation for it is called the clarity of memory hypothesis, proposed by the psychologist Norman Bradburn in 1987. This is the simple idea that because we know that memories fade over time, we use the clarity of a memory as a guide to its recency. So if a memory seems unclear we assume it happened longer ago.

And yet the brain does keep track of time, even if inaccurately. Hammond explains the factors that come into play with our inner chronometry:

It is clear that however the brain counts time, it has a system that is very flexible. It takes account of [factors like] emotions, absorption, expectations, the demands of a task and even the temperature .The precise sense we are using also makes a difference; an auditory event appears longer than a visual one. Yet somehow the experience of time created by the mind feels very real, so real that we feel we know what to expect from it, and are perpetually surprised whenever it confuses us by warping.

In fact, memory — which is itself a treacherous act of constant transformation with each recollection — is intricately related to this warping process:

We know that time has an impact on memory, but it is also memory that creates and shapes our experience of time. Our perception of the past moulds our experience of time in the present to a greater degree than we might realize. It is memory that creates the peculiar, elastic properties of time. It not only gives us the ability to conjure up a past experience at will, but to reflect on those thoughts through autonoetic consciousness — the sense that we have of ourselves as existing across time — allowing us to re-experience a situation mentally and to step outside those memories to consider their accuracy.

But, curiously, we are most likely to vividly remember experiences we had between the ages of 15 and 25. What the social sciences might simply call “nostalgia” psychologists have termed the “reminiscence bump” and, Hammond argues, it could be the key to why we feel like time speeds up as we get older:

The reminiscence bump involves not only the recall of incidents; we even remember more scenes from the films we saw and the books we read in our late teens and early twenties. … The bump can be broken down even further — the big news events that we remember best tend to have happened earlier in the bump, while our most memorablepersonal experiences are in the second half.

The key to the reminiscence bump is novelty. The reason we remember our youth so well is that it is a period where we have more new experiences than in our thirties or forties. It’s a time for firsts — first sexual relationships, first jobs, first travel without parents, first experience of living away from home, the first time we get much real choice over the way we spend our days. Novelty has such a strong impact on memory that even within the bump we remember more from the start of each new experience.

Most fascinating of all, however, is the reason the “reminiscence bump” happens in the first place: Hammond argues that because memory and identity are so closely intertwined, it is in those formative years, when we’re constructing our identity and finding our place in the world, that our memory latches onto particularly vivid details in order to use them later in reinforcing that identity. Interestingly, Hammond points out, people who undergo a major transformation of identity later in life — say, changing careers or coming out — tend to experience a second identity bump, which helps them reconcile and consolidate their new identity.

So what makes us date events more accurately? Hammond sums up the research:

You are most likely to remember the timing of an event if it was distinctive, vivid, personally involving and is a tale you have recounted many times since.

But one of the most enchanting instances of time-warping is what Hammond calls the Holiday Paradox — “the contradictory feeling that a good holiday whizzes by, yet feels long when you look back.” (An “American translation” might term it the Vacation Paradox.) Her explanation of its underlying mechanisms is reminiscent of legendary psychologist Daniel Kahneman’s theory of the clash between the “experiencing self” and the “remembering self”. Hammond explains:

The Holiday Paradox is caused by the fact that we view time in our minds in two very different ways — prospectively and retrospectively. Usually these two perspectives match up, but it is in all the circumstances where we remark on the strangeness of time that they don’t.

We constantly use both prospective and retrospective estimation to gauge time’s passing. Usually they are in equilibrium, but notable experiences disturb that equilibrium, sometimes dramatically. This is also the reason we never get used to it, and never will. We will continue to perceive time in two ways and continue to be struck by its strangeness every time we go on holiday.

Like the “reminiscence bump,” the Holiday Paradox has to do with the quality and concentration of new experiences, especially in contrast to familiar daily routines. During ordinary life, time appears to pass at a normal pace, and we use markers like the start of the workday, weekends, and bedtime to assess the rhythm of things. But once we go on vacation, the stimulation of new sights, sounds, and experiences injects a disproportionate amount of novelty that causes these two types of time to misalign. The result is a warped perception of time.

We will never have total control over this extraordinary dimension. Time will warp and confuse and baffle and entertain however much we learn about its capacities. But the more we learn, the more we can shape it to our will and destiny. We can slow it down or speed it up. We can hold on to the past more securely and predict the future more accurately. Mental time-travel is one of the greatest gifts of the mind. It makes us human, and it makes us special..

Source: http://www.brainpickings.org