“182, DAPI – 18, glucagon – 24, insulin.” My heart sank as I entered more values from the second set of data. It was increasingly obvious that there was no discernible difference between the two sets of cells.
My first independent task as a member of the University of Alberta Diabetes Institute was to review hundreds of cell images. The cells came from the human pancreas—the Islets of Langerhans—a medieval sounding name that seemed contradictory to their mundanity under a microscope. My task was to quantify the number of the nuclei and the hormones glucagon and insulin, each highlighted by different stains. My hope was to find differences between the controlled cells and cells that underwent our laboratory treatment.
The stakes were high. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of grant money were on the line and this result was expected to be included in the next publication of the lab. Yet, each data point I was entering was pointing to a null result. A process that had been efficient a moment ago became painstaking. Consumed by doubt, I began to question my methods. Are these values overestimated? Am I splitting the image properly? What if I’m …show more content…
Regardless of whether my methods were correct, I was going to apply them consistently and meticulously. In some ways, my first foray into scientific research was not unlike my first few years in Canada. I recalled the innumerable attempts at evading any potential exposure of my English ability: avoiding eye contact with my teachers, eating lunch alone, and refraining from engaging in conversations other than mannerly greetings. Fearing my broken English would result in prejudices against my competence, I viewed corrections on my grammar and pronunciation as patronizing insults and relied on my proficiency in math and science as a compensation for my weakness. By the end of junior high, my peers conferred the title of “math god” on me, and I enjoyed my newfound sense of
My first independent task as a member of the University of Alberta Diabetes Institute was to review hundreds of cell images. The cells came from the human pancreas—the Islets of Langerhans—a medieval sounding name that seemed contradictory to their mundanity under a microscope. My task was to quantify the number of the nuclei and the hormones glucagon and insulin, each highlighted by different stains. My hope was to find differences between the controlled cells and cells that underwent our laboratory treatment.
The stakes were high. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of grant money were on the line and this result was expected to be included in the next publication of the lab. Yet, each data point I was entering was pointing to a null result. A process that had been efficient a moment ago became painstaking. Consumed by doubt, I began to question my methods. Are these values overestimated? Am I splitting the image properly? What if I’m …show more content…
Regardless of whether my methods were correct, I was going to apply them consistently and meticulously. In some ways, my first foray into scientific research was not unlike my first few years in Canada. I recalled the innumerable attempts at evading any potential exposure of my English ability: avoiding eye contact with my teachers, eating lunch alone, and refraining from engaging in conversations other than mannerly greetings. Fearing my broken English would result in prejudices against my competence, I viewed corrections on my grammar and pronunciation as patronizing insults and relied on my proficiency in math and science as a compensation for my weakness. By the end of junior high, my peers conferred the title of “math god” on me, and I enjoyed my newfound sense of