For those who do not know, Baton Rouge is the site of the Pennington Biomedical Research Center, which conducts research into the causes of and cures for obesity. It is no coincidence that it's located in Louisiana, which vies with Mississippi for the coveted prize of "most obese population." Our relationship with PBRC, as we fondly call it, began a few years ago when Mike participated in a study to determine whether capsacin (the "hot" in hot peppers) could increase metabolism. He made a cool $400 for popping capsacin capsules 3 times a day over 8 weeks or so -- and a career was born! My husband, the lab rat. The next year, he earned $4500, which paid for the new windows. In January, he completed the E-Mechanic study, which only paid a measly $550 for 6 months, but provided 6 months of PBRC Fitness Center use (more on that in a minute). While he was doing that, I joined the family business and took part in the Sweet 2 study last summer, a study into the efficacy of an experimental medication for reducing appetite. It paid $400, which bought the curio cabinet which now displays my collection of open salts (and a few more open salts to go in it). That study only involved 3 visits, which lasted 14 hours each, but required than an IV line be left in place for the entire time each day, so that blood could be drawn about 15 times throughout the day. The first day, the lab tech was unable to find a vein -- no surprise there; they never are. The nurse finally managed to thread it in my right wrist, but it came out after lunch. Luckily for me, the new nurse who had come on duty really knew her stuff and had it in on the first try. I did finish the study, but was advised not to volunteer for any others that require the IV line. Oh, darn.
I then waited rather impatiently for Mike to finish E-Mechanic. The study will not permit two members of the same household to be in the study at the same time. The purpose of the study is to determine whether exercise raises the metabolism over the long term. Participants are assigned to one of three groups -- "Healthy Living," which involves monthly seminars and weekly e-mail tips on --you got it -- "healthy living," but no exercise; Recommended Dose, which is 3-4 times/week for 30-40 minutes a time; High Dose which is a jaw-dropping 5 times a week for 60-75 minutes each. Screening takes 6 weeks and involves numerous visits to the Clinic for blood tests, urine tests (they are very big on urine tests; one test involves drinking double-labeled water in the morning, then collecting 3 or 4 samples throughout the day ), an EKG, DXA scans (to determine body composition), a general physical exam (which is where the basal cell carcinoma in my outer ear was discovered, but that is a subject for another post), a "maximal treadmill exercise test" (to determine 'exercise prescription') and a food intake test. I had to wear an "accelerometer" -- which, despite its name, is not a form of jet pack -- for one week at the beginning, then again for the last two weeks of screening and record my weight over those weeks, as well. All to determine two things -- was I too physically active for the study? I should think that just looking at me would answer that. And what are my baseline metabolic numbers? The food intake test is not nearly as much fun as it sounds. Breakfast that day is 2 Nature Valley Oat and Honey Granola Bars; lunch is "all you want" in 30 minutes of cold turkey sandwiches with a slice of limp lettuce and anemic tomato on white sandwich rolls, potato chips and "chocolate" chip cookies -- I know chemical "chocolate fllavor" when I taste it! ; dinner is "all you want" in 30 minutes of a selection of primarily junk food with relatively healthy alternatives -- nacho cheese, ranch dressing, Fritos, cubed swiss and cheddar cheese, chicken nuggets, mixed nuts, M&Ms, popcorn, baked potato chips, baked tortilla chips, salsa, cubed grilled chicken, carrots, pretzels, raisins, bar-b-que sauce, honey sauce, water and some unnaturally pink drink. I realized later that I should have pigged out on the bad stuff this time, and then eaten the "good" stuff the next time. Even trying to eat the better options left me feeling somewhat bloated and unsatisfied. And, of course, I could have polished off quite a bit more if they'd given me all afternoon.
So, anyway, I passed all of the tests -- meaning I'm in moderately bad shape -- and was "randomized" last Thursday. Now, the staff in the clinic are not allowed to know which group we're in -- it's a blind study -- so don't anyone tell them, and, Angela, if you're reading this, close your eyes! A member of the fitness center staff met with me behind closed doors and opened the envelope -- and I'm in the Recommended Dose group! But she didn't let me thank the Academy or any of the little people who made it all possible.
As soon as possible after randomization -- ideally the next day, but I had a work conflict -- we spend a full 24 hours in the metabolic chamber. It will give them the absolute best measurement of metabolic rate. So, I was up and out at 6:30 this morning -- no breakfast, no caffeine or alcohol for the previous 24 hours -- and closed in here at 7:45. I will be released tomorrow at 8:45 by the clock, thanks to daylight savings time. I was instructed to "rest" -- but not sleep! Never sleep! Not until lights out tonight at 22:30 -- on the bed for an hour, so that they could get a good "baseline" and then I would be fed. So, I finished "The Scarlett Pimpernel" and waited for breakfast.
I feel as if I'm in the brig on the Millennium Falcon. The room is about 10 x 12 and completely sealed. The door is airtight, but can be opened for inside by leaning on it and pushing, so I must remember not to lean on it and push. It does have 2 windows, one of which provides a scenic view of the Pennington Conference Center and the other of -- well, I'm not sure what it is. It's some kind of external alcove, divided lengthwise by a glass or plexiglass wall. Each section has a wooden stand that looks like a bench standing on end, with some kind of electronic monitor on it. I can only see the back, so I can't tell what they are monitoring. Temperature? Humidity? Radiation? Empire communications?
There is a sink and toilet in one corner, by the door, with a curtain that can be drawn for privacy -- did I mention that the room is monitored by closed-circuit? It is -- and all urine must be collected in the provided urine jug, then stored in the refrigerator; there's a note on the door "Make sure to empty your bladder before exiting the chamber" -- I told you they are big on urine here. Next to the bed is a wall-mounted shelf with the aforementioned mini-fridge below. Across from that, in the corner on the other side of the door, is a wall-mounted desk with telephone and laptop computer (which I have unplugged and am using on my lap, as God and Steve Jobs intended). The hatch through which I receive my meals (such as they are) is directly above the desk. It is not a nice, modern, cheery plexiglass affair, but instead in an anodized aluminum box with heavy metal latches. I wait for the sound of the latches being released from the other side, and bound across the bed, salivating as I listen for the clunk of the tray and then the latches being closed again. Finally I can open the hatch on my side!
And what delicacies awaited me at 9:00 this morning, after fasting since 7:00 last night? Why -- a Lenders bagel with cream cheese, half a cup of orange juice, one cup of milk, and half a cup of mixed canned tropical fruit! I felt like calling the nurses on the phone and saying, "I've eaten the snack you sent me. Now, where's breakfast?"
Lunch will be served at 13:30. They've given me a menu, but I don't want to spoil the anticipation and the surprise by reading it in advance.
