bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
The People of Sunghir
Authors: Trinkaus Erik , Buzhilova Alexandra P. , Mednikova Maria B. , Dobrovolskaya Maria V.
Published: November 2020

In this latest volume in the Human Evolution Series, Erik Trinkaus and his co-authors synthesize the research and findings concerning the human remains found at the Sunghir archaeological site. It has long been apparent to those in the field of paleoanthropology that the human fossil remains from the site of Sunghir are an important part of the human paleoanthropological record, and that these fossil remains have the potential to provide substantial data and inferences concerning human biology and behavior, both during the earlier Upper Paleolithic and concerning the early phases of human occupation of high latitude continental Eurasia. But despite many separate investigations and published studies on the site and its findings, a single and definitive volume does not yet exist on the subject. This book combines the expertise of four paleoanthropologists to provide a comprehensive description and paleobiological analysis of the Sunghir human remains. Since 1990, Trinkaus et al. have had access to the Sunghir site and its findings, and the authors have published frequently on the topic. The book places these human fossil remains in context with other Late Pleistocene humans, utilizing numerous comparative charts, graphs, and figures. As such, the book is highly illustrated, in color. Trinkaus and his co-authors outline the many advances in paleoanthropology that these remains have helped to bring about, examining the Sunghir site from all angles.
The Sunghir Human Skeletal Remains
Authors: Trinkaus Erik , Buzhilova Alexandra P. , Mednikova Maria B. , Dobrovolskaya Maria V.
Published: November 2020

The Sunghir human remains originally consisted of the three associated skeletons from the two burials, Sunghir 1, 2, and 3, plus the remains of six other individuals. Sunghir 1 to 3 consist of largely complete skeletons that sustained the inevitable partial crushing, fragmentation, and bone disintegration that accompanies human remains buried in open air sites for 28,000 years. Sunghir 4 is the adult femur shaft that was ritually placed in the Sunghir 2 and 3 burial, next to the left shoulder of Sunghir 2 (chapter 3). Sunghir 5 is a partial adult cranium, found in the sediments above Grave 1. Sunghir 6 is a mature hemimandible, identified as human after excavation from among the faunal remains above Grave 2. There were also the unnumbered remains of the skeleton in Grave 2bis, which were not retained (see discussion in chapter 3). In addition to these human fossils, the remains of three additional individuals were originally found, numbered Sunghir 7 to 9. Sunghir 7 was found in the deposits between the two graves and consisted of a portion of a human femur, variously described as adolescent or from a young adult female. Sunghir 8 consisted of portions of a femur and a skull (a frontal bone, a probable parietal bone, and a temporal bone), found in 1969 in an additional clay pit. Sunghir 9 was a partial skeleton found in 1972 in an additional clay pit. None of the Sunghir 7 to 9 human remains can be currently located. The Sunghir 7 and 8 remains were briefly described by anthropologists and forensic scientists in Moscow, and the limited information on Sunghir 9 is based on reports by the Vladimir Ceramic Works workers. The available human remains from Sunghir therefore consist of the Sunghir 1 to 3 partial skeletons, the Sunghir 4 partial femur, and the Sunghir 5 and 6 cranium and mandible. These specimens are currently curated in the Laboratory of Anthropological Reconstruction of the Institute of Anthropology and Ethnology of the Russian Academy of Sciences.
The Forerunners of Celtium and Hafnium: Ostranium, Norium, Jargonium, Nigrium, Euxenium, Asium, and Oceanium
Authors: Fontani Marco , Costa Mariagrazia , Orna Mary Virginia
Published: November 2020

Of the naturally occurring nonradioactive elements, hafnium was the next to last to be discovered, preceding the discovery of rhenium by 3 years. It can boast of holding a very strange record: the number of claims for its discovery over the years is unequaled by any other element. This record was the cause of frustration for many scientists who, over the years, took turns in attempts to isolate it. The reason that hafnium remained undiscovered until 1922 lay not so much in that its presence in nature (long known to be quite scarce) wasn’t looked for, but in its peculiar chemical properties that bound it up intimately with zirconium. Toward the end of the 18th century, Martin Heinrich Klaproth melted some forms of yellow-green and red zirconium with sodium hydroxide and then digested the residue several times with hydrochloric and sulfuric acids to eliminate the extraneous silicon. The solution, thought to contain a number of elements, produced, upon addition of potassium carbonate, a generous precipitate. The oxide that Klaproth collected did not seem to belong to any known substance, and he called it terra zirconia. With the passing of the years, he and many other chemists, among them the renowned Jons Jacob Berzelius, determined the elemental composition of zircon and of its correlative minerals. Far from being simply ZrSiO4, zircon contained traces of iron, aluminum, nickel, cobalt, lead, bismuth, manganese, lithium, sodium, zinc, calcium, magnesium, and uranium and small amounts of the rare earths. Some impurities persistently resisted separation from zirconium oxide or zirconia and were taken erroneously for oxides of new elements (new earths). In 1825, Johann Friedrich August Breithaupt (1791–1873) reported the presence of a new element, ostranium, isolated from ostranite, a mineral similar to zircon. Twenty years later, the Swedish chemist, mineralogist, and metallurgist Lars Fredrik Svanberg (1805–78) announced the discovery of a new element. In his publication of 1845, he asserted that the zirconium oxide obtained from a variety of Siberian, Norwegian, and Indian zircon samples was in reality composed of two earths: one, zirconia, already noted, and another unknown earth.
Photochemistry and Excited-State Reactions of Oxides
Authors: Bunker Bruce C. , Casey William H.
Published: November 2020

The applied voltages that drive electrochemical processes (see Chapter 11) are only one of many energy sources that can be used to activate reactions in oxide molecules and materials. Another common energy source that drives many environmental and technological oxide reactions is light from the sun. Water plays a key role in many of these reactions. Imagine that you are on vacation floating in a warm ocean bathed by the sun. Many of the phenomena you experience, from your painful sunburn to the photosynthetic growth of the seaweed you see beneath you, are photoactivated processes. In this chapter, we highlight the roles that oxides play in photon-activated solar energy technologies. Also included are reactions stimulated by other nonthermal energy sources, including electrons in high-energy plasmas. Titanium oxide, found in common white paint, is the basis for much of the discussion, because this oxide is used in many photoelectrochemical energy storage technologies. The photochemistry of colloidal manganese- and iron-oxide particles suspended either in atmospheric droplets or in the upper photic zone of the ocean where the sunlight penetrates are discussed in Chapter 18. Such oxide reactions are important globally in the elimination of pollutants. Both industrial and environmental examples illustrate how oxides participate in a wide range of photoactivated chemical reactions, including the catalytic decomposition of water, photoelectrochemistry, and photoactivated dissolution and precipitation reactions. Before exploring excited-state reactions, we need to introduce the energy sources that provide such excitation. In most of this chapter, the excitation source of interest is light. Most of us are familiar with the electromagnetic spectrum, in which the energy of a photon is given by . . . E=hv=hc/λ=hcω (13.1). . . Here, h is Planck’s constant (h = 6.6 ·10 −34 J/second), c is the speed of light (3 ·1010cm/second), ν is the frequency of light (measured in Hertz or per second), λ is the wavelength of light (in centimeters), and ω is the wavelength expressed as wave number (measured per centimeter in infrared spectroscopy).
Aqueous Polymerization of Silicates and Aluminosilicates
Authors: Bunker Bruce C. , Casey William H.
Published: November 2020

Part Five of this book is devoted to silicates for several important reasons. First, silicates represent critical components of our planet and our lives. Silicon is the second most abundant element in Earth’s crust after oxygen, representing about 28% of the atoms present. As such, transformations of silicate minerals dominate much of the aqueous geochemistry of Earth. Every day, each of us encounters materials and objects the primary constituents of which are silicon oxides and related phases such as aluminosilicates. Granite facings on buildings, bricks, glass, pottery, ceramics, engineered materials used in water purification, catalysis, electronics, and even the optical fibers used in our most advanced communication systems are all silica based. Aluminosilicate minerals are even used as food additives. A key attribute of silicates that distinguishes them from most of the oxides highlighted in Parts One through Four of this book is that the Si(IV) cation is almost always present in a tetrahedral rather than in an octahedral coordination geometry. Exceptions include a few high-pressure phases such as stishovite (see Chapter 2) and a limited number of chelated Si(IV) complexes (see Section 14.3). The authors know of no stable compounds where Si(IV) is coordinated to only three oxygen atoms. The pathways for both forming and destroying silicate bonds are substantially different than for octahedral metal ions. Ligand-exchange pathways for silicate ions are via nucleophilic attack, where the coordination number increases in a transition state from four to five or even six (see Section 14.3 and Chapters 4 and 5). These contrast with pathways for octahedral metal ions, such as Al(III), where it is easier to decrease the coordination number from six to five or four in dissociative ligand exchange reactions. Of course, Si(IV) is not the only common element capable of forming tetrahedral oxide species. As outlined in Chapters 2 and 4, any cation with an ionic radius between roughly 0.03 nm and 0.055 nm can fit within the tetrahedral void between four close-packed oxygen anions, as expressed by Linus Pauling’s First Rule of coordination chemistry (see Chapter 2).
After Modernity
Authors: Harrison Rodney , Schofield John
Published: November 2020

After Modernity summarizes archaeological approaches to the contemporary past, and suggests a new agenda for the archaeology of late modern societies. The principal focus is the archaeology of developed, de-industrialized societies during the second half of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first. This period encompasses the end of the Cold War and the beginning of the 'internet age', a period which sits firmly within what we would recognize to be a period of 'lived and living memory'. Rodney Harrison and John Schofield explore how archaeology can inform the study of this time period and the study of our own society through detailed case studies and an in-depth summary of the existing literature. After Modernity draws together cross-disciplinary perspectives on contemporary material culture studies, and develops a new agenda for the study of the materiality of late modern societies.
Working Across Disciplines
Authors: Harrison Rodney , Schofield John
Published: November 2020

In the previous chapter, we considered those methodologies that might be seen to characterize the archaeology of the contemporary past. One of the issues raised there was the extent to which an archaeology of the contemporary past is defined by, and is even reliant upon, working with and across a series of different academic disciplines and areas of subject specialisms. In this chapter, we will look in more detail at the relationship between the archaeology of the contemporary past and the various academic disciplines on which it draws and with which it overlaps. Rather than a field defined by a series of other academic disciplines, we argue that the archaeology of the contemporary past emerges from this review as a discipline characterized by a particular vision and approach to the material culture of the contemporary world. These issues are explored in relation to various examples which illustrate both the similarities and differences between an archaeology of the contemporary past, and those various specialisms with which it has close relations. This chapter will also explore the relationship between the archaeology of the contemporary past and contemporary art, both in terms of artistic engagements with the archaeology of the contemporary past and the idea of archaeology as a form of contemporary artistic practice. A number of authors have written in detail about the historical relationship between archaeology and anthropology (e.g. Gosden 1999), and we do not have space to cover the topic in the detail it deserves here. The relationship between archaeology and anthropology is, however, particularly relevant when we are considering the archaeology of the contemporary past, as in almost all instances we are considering the material remains of societies contemporary with us. Archaeology and anthropology, although closely related, have developed along divergent lines in the different countries of the world in which they are practised, so for this reason we will focus our discussion on the historical relationship between archaeology and anthropology in North America and Britain, and the role of an ‘anthropological archaeology’ in approaches to the archaeology of the contemporary past.
Sites
Authors: Harrison Rodney , Schofield John
Published: November 2020

Sites are the staple of archaeological investigation, forming the basis of many an excavation or survey project, often within a wider landscape study where it is the relationships between sites that can matter more. Think of any archaeological project or great excavation of the nineteenth or twentieth century, and you have your archaeological site, defined by convention as incorporating either settlement or industrial, religious, or military remains. These sites are often the subject of either a lengthy process of investigation and then post-excavation analysis leading to publication of results, or sometimes a short Weld evaluation prior to their destruction through development or preservation in situ. Their initial discovery may be newsworthy, and perhaps the result of some significant new development, a new landmark in the making. As we have seen, by convention archaeologists and curators generally treat those places and objects from the past as precious, valued resources for their very historicity and their cultural value, and often (correctly) seek their protection from destructive forces of the present and future. But our view is slightly different. We do not recognize the distinction between that which is old/ancient and matters, and that which is new and does not. Rather we recognize all material culture, the artefacts and sites and the wider landscape, as being suitable for archaeological inquiry and potentially holding value for this reason: not just the objects of the deeper past threatened with destruction, but also the contemporary office building that now occupies the site. Archaeology of the contemporary past even gives recognition to the ‘site to be’, the places planned for the future, a site that exists only on a planning board or an architect’s computer, or as a model, or even in the mind. With the archaeology of the contemporary past, the past, present, and future are woven together in a way that gives the subject complexity, introduces new and unforeseen challenges and difficulties, and equally gives it a heightened sense of social relevance and meaning. That said, for archaeology of the contemporary past, many of the same rules apply as for earlier periods, although, as we have seen, the sheer numbers of modern sites, and the spatial continuity of human activity and our perception and experience of it, do complicate things somewhat.
Non-Places and Virtual Worlds
Authors: Harrison Rodney , Schofield John
Published: November 2020

In previous chapters we have considered how we might take an archaeological approach to the contemporary or very recent past in what would be recognized to be a fairly conventional series of archaeological ‘realms’—artefacts, places, and landscape. In this chapter, we will explore some of the ways in which an archaeological approach might be taken to some of the most distinctive features of late modernity. In Chapter 5, we explored a number of these features, highlighting non-places, the work of the imagination, and the virtual as key areas for archaeological inquiry. This chapter takes up some of the challenges of these new materialities (and, indeed, the new ‘virtualities’) of late modernity, considering the ways in which an archaeological approach to the contemporary world might help illuminate aspects of late modernity that have not previously been well understood. As in previous chapters in Part II, this chapter is broken into a number of sections reflecting broad themes relating to the distinctive features of late-modern everyday life—non-places; virtual worlds; experience economies and the work of the imagination; and hyperconsumerism and globalization. In Chapter 5 we looked in detail at Augé’s (1995) concept of the ‘non-place’. Augé uses this term to describe a whole series of spaces in contemporary society—airport lounges, shopping malls, motorways—that he suggests are to be distinguished from ‘places’, in the sense in which these spaces are not relational, historical, or concerned with the establishment of a sense of identity (all those things that characterize the traditional social anthropologist’s interest in ‘place’). These ‘non-places’ are primarily associated with the experience of travel or transit, and reflect the simultaneous time– space expansion and compression that he associates with late modernity. We suggested that such places rely not only on aspects of their generic design, but also on a series of ‘technologies of isolation’ that work together to produce a characteristic feeling of solitude and the emptying of consciousness discussed in Augé’s work.
Communication Skills and Ethics
Authors: Mehta Gautam , Iqbal Bilal , Bowman Deborah
Published: November 2020

Capacity is at the heart of ethical decision making. Capacity to make choices about healthcare will rarely, if ever, be assessed without the benefit of input from a clinician. Often it is assumed that a psychiatrist should be involved where there are doubts about capacity, but the criteria for assessing capacity are relatively straightforward and it is a core skill in which all doctors should be competent, calling psychiatrists only in situations of doubt or complexity. Capacity is a legal rather than a medical concept, i.e. its definition is drawn from the law. As such, no doctor should engage in an assessment of a patient’s capacity without understanding the relevant legal processes. As capacity is a legal concept, the standard of proof that is used in assessing capacity is that which is applicable to civil law in general, i.e. on the balance of probabilities rather than beyond reasonable doubt. • The legal test used in assessing capacity to make decisions and choices about healthcare was first established in the case of Re: C (Adult: Refusal of Treatment). Since October 2007, the Mental Capacity Act 2005 and its accompanying Code of Practice is the source for guidance on capacity. The principles in Box 3 underpin the legislation and are particularly important to note: • The task in this scenario is to assess capacity, but clearly to do so effectively a candidate will need to employ appropriate communication skills to explore whether the patient is able to meet the criteria of capacity (see section “Key concepts”), namely: ♦ the patient’s comprehension of information ♦ the patient’s ability to retain that information ♦ whether the patient can weigh information in the balance to reach a considered decision; and ♦ communicate the decision. • Candidates should begin with an appropriate introduction telling the patient their full name and role and checking the patient’s identity and preferred form of address. • The patient should be invited to tell the doctor why he is attending and what he expects to happen at the consultation.
The respiratory system
Authors: Orr Jan
Published: November 2020

The aim of this chapter is to provide an outline of the underpinning theory and relevant information needed to deliver safe and effective, family centred, evidence based care to the child or young person who presents with breathing difficulties. In is anticipated that at the end of this chapter you will be able to: ● Understand the anatomy and physiology of the respiratory system. ● Discuss the concept of visual assessment of breathing, including monitoring and recording of respiratory rate, oxygen saturation levels, and peak expiratory flow rates. ● Explain oxygen therapy and the use of airway adjuncts. ● Reflect upon methods and equipment used for suctioning. ● Discuss tracheostomy management, care of intrapleural drainage, and endotracheal tubes. ● Apply the concepts and principles outlined relevant to the hospital and community setting. This is the system through which oxygen is breathed in from the external environment, either by the nose or mouth, and a waste product (carbon dioxide) is excreted. The respiratory system consists of respiratory passages, which carry air via the nose to the lungs, and a network of blood capillaries in the lungs. The respiratory passages include the nose, pharynx, larynx (voice box), trachea, two bronchi (one bronchus to each lung), and copious bronchial tubes, which divide and lead to millions of alveoli (tiny air sacs). There are two lungs either side of the heart in the thoracic cavity. They are made up of bronchial tubes, alveoli, blood vessels, and nerves (McCance & Heuther, 2006). Air containing oxygen (O2) and carbon dioxide (CO2) is breathed into the lungs. This fills the alveoli. It is separated from the blood in capillaries by two semi-permeable membranes. These make up the walls of the alveoli and capillaries. Oxygen is at a higher concentration in the alveoli. It therefore passes from the alveoli into the blood. Carbon dioxide is higher in concentration in the blood, so it passes from the blood into the alveoli. Oxygen is carried in the blood in haemoglobin (red blood corpuscles). Breathing is the regular inflation and deflation of the lungs, maintaining a steady concentration of atmospheric gases in the alveoli (MacGregor, 2000).
Respiratory
Authors: Chotirmall Sanjay H. , Liddicoat Helen
Published: November 2020

The MRCP PACES respiratory station offers an opportunity to demonstrate a slick examination technique that is performed on practically all patients. Respiratory diseases, after cardiovascular and musculoskeletal complaints, are the third most common cause for presentation to either the Emergency Department or the general practitioner (GP) and remains proof of the concept that ‘common things are common’. Respiratory disease can be generally divided into 3 major categories: airways, parenchymal and pleural disease. We have aimed to structure the following chapter to reflect this. Certain ‘high-yield’ or ‘favourites’ that recur in the PACES examination are covered in this section. During PACES, examiners assess your ability to both elicit and then correctly interpret physical signs. A general sense exists that a decision to pass or fail a candidate rests on an aura of competence (or incompetence!) during the clinical performance. In essence, the examiners are looking for you to demonstrate correct techniques whilst eliciting the signs and logical thinking when interpreting them. Therefore, eliciting the physical signs is only the first step; the interpretation and presentation are equally, if not more, important. With this in mind, the following useful general points should be considered: • The respiratory examination does not need to be a lengthy one. Start at the peripheries with the hands and then move to the back (unless specifically advised otherwise by your examiners). Traditionally the physical examination starts with the anterior chest but it is perfectly acceptable to do the back first then return to the front (most signs and clues to the diagnosis e.g. scars, will be detected by examining the posterior chest). • A 6-minute period is allowed for the examination portion of the station and it is our advice to spend the first 2 minutes examining the patient from a general perspective (including full inspection, hands and face) then the second 2 minutes on the posterior chest and the final 2 minutes on the anterior chest. As time is limited, palpate for features of pulmonary hypertension or right-sided heart failure at the anterior chest, before moving to the respiratory signs.
MCQs for the Primary FRCA
Authors: Kamath B S K , Turle Sarah
Published: November 2020

Designed specifically for the revised Primary FRCA examination, this book contains true/false multiple choice questions. It is divided into the three specific areas outlined in the FRCA curriculum: physics and measurement, physiology, and pharmacology. Each section includes a brief introduction, 170 mcqs and answers with explanations. Uniquely the book includes answers with explanations and cross-references to key textbooks, allowing you to read more on difficult areas. The author team balances extensive exam experience with recent exam success. Each question has also been expertly reviewed to ensure the highest quality and relevance to the Primary FRCA. This is a must buy when preparing for this key exam.
Structures
Authors: Cyna Allan M , Andrew Marion I
Published: November 2020

Anaesthetic culture tends to view patients as physiological specimens to which pharmacological and technical procedures are applied and utilized to optimize various measurable parameters. However, this aspect is only one small part of a patient’s anaesthetic care. The medical model to which many anaesthetists still cling is very much a paternalistic one. Although terms such as ‘patient autonomy’ and ‘choice’ are frequently used, achieving these laudable aims in clinical practice remains elusive. Promoting patient autonomy and fostering a therapeutic relationship are areas of practice that have traditionally not been of direct concern to anaesthetists. The communication skills required to achieve this are centred on listening to what patients are really saying, and accepting the patients’ alternative, but sometimes radically different, view of the world. In addition, anaesthetists can use their understanding of this alternative view to communicate in a way that is likely to engender cooperation and trust. Language affects our patients, our colleagues and our own perceptions. This has profound implications in the practice of anaesthesia. Dissecting the anatomy of communication begins with a message between two or more people. This message can take many forms—for example, as a request for assistance or information, a command, advice, clarification, addressing a concern or the provision of reassurance. The message, superficially, is contained only in words. However, the meaning of the communication carried in the message is invariably far more complex. Spoken words are inevitably accompanied by pitch, volume and intonation, a facial expression and body posture. For example, take the six words ‘He anaesthetized that patient last Tuesday’. Box 2.1 shows six different meanings of this sentence. Each one is dependent on just one change in emphasis on how the words are said. The example demonstrates that with just one small change of emphasis in one word the entire meaning of the phrase can change. One can begin to imagine how many hundreds of pieces of information—probably thousands—are being passed on implicitly during any particular interpersonal interaction or communication. It is, of course, impossible to dissect every last nuance, but we can begin to understand some aspects of language and non-verbal cues in a way that will facilitate the accuracy of our communications.
Narrative and metaphor
Authors: Shafer Audrey
Published: November 2020

Narrative and metaphor can be viewed as literary terms without much use in the world of medicine other than to prettify language and decorate ivory tower treatises on medical esoterica. However, since narrative and metaphor are integral to how we think, how we analyse and process information, how, in fact, we perceive and thus act, it would be naive and arbitrary to exclude such concepts from an understanding of the practice of medicine. Furthermore, with its compression and crystallization of communication with the patient, the complex interplay between human and machine, the draconian consequences of poor communication and the emotional toll of a high stress environment, the practice of anaesthesia lends itself well to a closer look at how narrative and metaphor imbue and inform what anaesthetists do. The relationship between narrative and story is largely determined by context. Interchangeable in some respects, the terms both mean an account of events, and each can be contained in the other. For instance, a narrative can be woven from various stories and a story can contain narratives of various characters. The term narrative is mostly used here primarily because it encompasses text, however fragmentary, dialogue, and the study of narrative in medical education and practice, termed ‘narrative medicine’. Nonetheless, ‘story’ is also understood here, and is a useful term, particularly in relation to a point of view or a retelling of an experience, in Rashomon fashion, from differing perspectives. As noted in Chapter 2, inflection and emphasis change the meaning of even a single sentence. The idea of differing perspectives deserves special attention in the anaesthetist–patient relationship. The ‘narrative incommensurability’ between doctor and patient is one of the prime driving forces behind the need for good communication pre- and post-operatively. That is, the unknowableness of another person, indeed a stranger, for whom we anaesthetists assume vital and personhood responsibilities during the operation, makes clear and comprehensive communication that much more important. People develop not only as individuals, but also as social beings. Just as we try to understand another’s actions through, among other ways, the mirror neuron system, we try to understand another’s perspective, all the while recognizing that we are, by definition, distinct.
Safety-critical communication
Authors: Prineas Stavros
Published: November 2020

In Chapter 1 we highlighted an example of failed handover in a tragic case report. This example underscores the difficulty that doctors, as a craft group, often have when we try to talk about communication problems. When trying to explain why an adverse event has occurred, we frequently invoke ‘poor communication’ as a contributing factor. Deeper discussion, however, often proves to be a woollier beast, and we often retreat to the comforting realm of the technical, where the landscape is reassuringly familiar and the outlines are, for us, more clearly defined. Unfortunately the mammoth in the room cannot be ignored; under systematic scrutiny, ‘communication failure’ consistently represents one of the lead contributors to serious adverse events. Most recently, analysis of AIMS report data in an Australian area health service revealed that communication problems were the largest single contributing factor to severe and/or life-threatening clinical incidents over a 2-year period (2007–2009). Perhaps if we develop a better vocabulary of the types of communication errors that occur commonly in the workplace, we can be more articulate about them and develop more focused strategies to overcome them. Communication can be defined as the transfer of meaning from one person to another. For the purposes of developing practical communication tools, communication can be broken down into a package of signals sent from one person—the transmitter— to another—the receiver. These signals are both verbal and non-verbal. It is essential to realize that as social beings we are all constantly ‘transmitting’ signals—not just in the content of our words, but the types of words we use, the tone of our voice, our facial expressions, our body language, our physical proximity to others, the way we dress, the material possessions we display, etc. At any one time most of us are only partly conscious of the total package of what we are ‘saying’ to others. At the same time we are constantly receiving signals and, to a greater or lesser extent, trying to read meaning into and ‘make sense’ of these perceptions. Again often we are only partly conscious of the meaning of the ‘vibes’ we receive; yet they can have a profound impact on what we hear from others.
Climate Change and Cultural Dynamics: Lessons from the Past for the Future
Authors: Anderson David G. , Maasch Kirk A.
Published: November 2020

As the twenty-first century winds onward, it is becoming increasingly clear that understanding how climate affects human cultural systems is critically important. Indeed, it has been argued by many researchers that how we respond to changing global climate is one of the greatest scientific and political challenges facing our planetary technological civilization, comparable and closely intertwined with concerns about biological or nuclear warfare, famine, disease, overpopulation, or environmental degradation. By any reasonable evaluation of the evidence, this century, and likely the several centuries that follow it, will be characterized by dramatic climate change, perhaps as significant in terms of its impact on our species as any climatic episodes that have occurred in the past. What we don’t know with much certainty is how these environmental changes will play out across the planet, and how individuals as well as nation states will respond to them. Archaeology has a major role to play in helping us move through this period of crisis, however, by showing us how human cultures in the past responded to dramatic changes in climate. As the work of many archaeological scholars has shown, climate change has not invariably proven to be a bad thing: it is how people respond to it that is critical (e.g. Anderson et al. 2007b; Cooper and Sheets 2012; Crumley 2000, 2006, 2007; Hardesty 2007; McAnany and Yoffee 2010; McIntosh et al. 2000; Redman 2004a; Sandweiss and Quilter 2008; Sassaman and Anderson 1996; Tainter 2000). Archaeology working in tandem with a host of palaeoenvironmental and historical disciplines has lessons for our modern world and, as this volume demonstrates, we as a profession are making great strides in getting our message out. Perhaps the most important lesson from the past is that people, through their actions, are the drivers of cultural change, including response to climate change. Societies are not, however, monolithic entities that ‘chose’ to succeed or fail; people as individuals, groups, or factions through their actions generate outcomes, and often some demonstrate remarkable flexibility and resilience (Cooper and Sheets 2012; Diamond 2005; McAnany and Yoffee 2010).
The Goldilocks Planet
Authors: Zalasiewicz Jan , Williams Mark
Published: November 2020

Climate change is a major topic of concern today and will be so for the foreseeable future, as predicted changes in global temperatures, rainfall, and sea level continue to take place. But as Jan Zalasiewicz and Mark Williams reveal in The Goldilocks Planet, the climatic changes we are experiencing today hardly compare to the changes the Earth has seen over the last 4.5 billion years. Indeed, the vast history that the authors relate here is dramatic and often abrupt--with massive changes in global and regional climate, from bitterly cold to sweltering hot, from arid to humid. They introduce us to the Cryogenian period, the days of Snowball Earth seven hundred million years ago, when ice spread to cover the world, then melted abruptly amid such dramatic climatic turbulence that hurricanes raged across the Earth. We read about the Carboniferous, with tropical jungles at the equator (where Pennsylvania is now) and the Cretaceous Period, when the polar regions saw not ice but dense conifer forests of cypress and redwood, with gingkos and ferns. The authors also show how this history can be read from clues preserved in the Earth's strata. The evidence is abundant, though always incomplete--and often baffling, puzzling, infuriating, tantalizing, seemingly contradictory. Geologists, though, are becoming ever more ingenious at deciphering this evidence, and the story of the Earth's climate is now being reconstructed in ever-greater detail--maybe even providing us with clues to the future of contemporary climate change. And through all of this, the authors conclude, the Earth has remained perfectly habitable--in stark contrast to its planetary neighbors. Not too hot, not too cold; not too dry, not too wet--"the Goldilocks planet."
Into the Icehouse
Authors: Zalasiewicz Jan , Williams Mark
Published: November 2020

The frozen lands of the north are an unforgiving place for humans to live. The Inuit view of the cosmos is that it is ruled by no one, with no gods to create wind and sun and ice, or to provide punishment or forgiveness, or to act as Earth Mother or Father. Amid those harsh landscapes, belief is superfluous, and only fear can be relied on as a guide. How could such a world begin, and end? In Nordic mythology, in ancient times there used to be a yet greater kingdom of ice, ruled by the ice giant, Ymir Aurgelmir. To make a world fit for humans, Ymir was killed by three brothers—Odin, Vilje, and Ve. The blood of the dying giant drowned his own children, and formed the seas, while the body of the dead giant became the land. To keep out other ice giants that yet lived in the far north, Odin and his brothers made a wall out of Ymir’s eyebrows. One may see, fancifully, those eyebrows still, in the form of the massive, curved lines of morainic hills that run across Sweden and Finland. We now have a popular image of Ymir’s domain—the past ‘Ice Age’—as snowy landscapes of a recent past, populated by mammoths and woolly rhinos and fur-clad humans (who would have been beginning to create such legends to explain the precarious world on which they lived). This image, as we have seen, represents a peculiarly northern perspective. The current ice age is geologically ancient, for the bulk of the world’s land-ice had already grown to cover almost all Antarctica, more than thirty million years ago. Nevertheless, a mere two and a half million years ago, there was a significant transition in Earth history—an intensification of the Earth’s icehouse state that spread more or less permanent ice widely across the northern polar regions of the world. This intensification— via those fiendishly complex teleconnections that characterize the Earth system—changed the face of the entire globe. The changes can be detected in the sedimentary strata that were then being deposited around the world.
Blood Pressure Measurement
Authors: Magee Patrick , Tooley Mark
Published: November 2020

Blood pressure measurement occurs either non-invasively or invasively, and usually refers to systemic arterial pressure measurement, but can also refer to systemic venous or pulmonary arterial pressure measurement. In 1733 the Reverend Stephen Hales was the first person to measure the blood pressure in vivo in unanaesthetised horses by direct cannulation of the carotid and femoral arteries. In doing so he observed the pulsatile nature of flow in the circulation. In 1828 Poiseuille developed the mercury manometer, and used it to measure blood pressure in a dog. The mercury manometer has, of course, become the standard technique against which other techniques are compared. The earliest numerical information on blood pressure measurement came from direct rather than indirect measurement in 1856 by Faivre, using Poiseuille’s device. However, in the last part of the nineteenth century, non-invasive measurement techniques were developed. In 1903, Codman and Cushing introduced the concept of routine intraoperative blood pressure measurement, which at the time was a revolutionary concept. Nowadays it is a fundamental part of minimal monitoring criteria. There are several techniques of non-invasive BP (NIBP) measurement, all of which function by occluding the pulse in a limb with a proximal cuff, then detecting its onset again distally, on lowering the cuff pressure. Detection methods include palpation, auscultation, plethysmography, oscillotonometry and oscillometry. Accuracy of all non-invasive techniques depends on cuff size in relation to the limb concerned, and over which artery the cuff is placed. Such techniques of NIBP measurement are necessarily intermittent. Much discussion has taken place on the accuracy of these devices, and the accuracy of diastolic pressure measurements needs improving, and there are ideas proposed for new non-invasive devices [Tooley and Magee 2009]. In the absence of a stethoscope, this technique is simple and reliable. After inflating the cuff on the upper arm to a pressure of above that of systolic, the cuff is then deflated while palpating the brachial artery and the systolic pressure is measured with a mercury column at first detection of the pulse. A study by van Bergen [1954] showed that BP can be underestimated by this method by up to 25% at 120 mmHg.
Pulse Oximetry
Authors: Magee Patrick , Tooley Mark
Published: November 2020

The pulse oximeter is a device for non-invasive, continuous measurement of oxygen saturation. As such it is arguably one of the most important intraoperative monitors at the disposal of anaesthetists, and efforts are being made to make pulse oximeters available at all operating locations throughout the world [Walker et al. 2009]. Although the device measures oxygen saturation of arterial blood, which is the physiological end point of interest, it is not a replacement for monitoring all the events which may lead to hypoxaemia; in other words it does not replace an oxygen analyser at the common gas outlet of the anaesthetic machine. Depending on the site of the probe, usually ear lobe or finger, there is a variable delay between the onset of a causative hypoxaemic event and detection of hypoxaemia by the pulse oximeter, the delay being longer the more peripherally placed is the probe. Appropriate size and design of the probe for accuracy and safety in children is important [Howell et al. 1993] and finger probes are more accurate but slower to respond than ear probes [Webb et al. 1991]. Forehead reflectance probes have been used with good results [Casati et al. 2007]. It is also true that the human eye is notoriously bad at detecting cyanosis in the range of saturations 81–85%. For additional information on Monitoring Principles see Chapter 11. It is clear, however, that in a hierarchy of monitors for anaesthesia, the pulse oximeter is indispensable. A pulse oximeter uses two separate technologies: one is plethysmography, where reproduction of the pulsatile waveform takes place; the other is spectroscopy, where absorption of light of specific wavelengths by body tissues occurs and is analysed. The spectroscopic aspects depend on the laws of Beer and Lambert, which can be combined to state that the amount of light absorbed by a substance is proportional to the thickness of the substance sample (the path length of the light) and the concentration of the substance.
Mining, Economy, and Society
Authors: O'Brien William
Published: November 2020

The opening chapter of this book considered different factors that influenced the availability of copper resources in prehistory. While geological distribution and technological expertise were critical, consideration must also be given to the wider societal context of production. The operation of early mines must be explained in terms of access to ore deposits and the desire and ability of different population groups to become involved in primary metal production. The impact on local and regional economies is also relevant, in terms of wealth generation through trade and the repercussions for society as a whole. Understanding the organization of this activity is a challenge. Key elements of the chaîne opératoire are often missing, such as the location of smelting sites or the workshops where objects were made. This makes it difficult to establish links between mines and the circulation of intermediate and final metal products in a wider settlement context. With stone tools it is possible to apply production indices to quantify the different stages involved in the use of a specific raw material, with a view to modelling a lithic production system in space (see Ericson 1984). This approach cannot be easily applied to metal objects, which generally have a more complex life cycle than stone tools. This began with a fundamentally different use of a raw material to create a finished object, requiring chemical as well as physical transformation. For this reason, scientific analysis of prehistoric metalwork is problematic in terms of source provenancing to specific ore deposits and mines. There is the further complication of recycling, which in some instances involved the mixing of metal from different mine sources. One approach has been to identify metal circulation zones where copper of a similar chemistry, lead isotope signature, and/ or alloy type was used (e.g. Northover 1982). Within these circulation zones various patterns of primary and secondary (recycled) metal use can be explored in the context of local workshop traditions. This provides a spatial and typochronological context in which to view the input of metal from particular mines.
Stopped-flow circular dichroism
Authors: Rodger Alison , Carey Michael J.
Published: November 2020

As is apparent from previous chapters (Chapters 6, 8 and 9), understanding the kinetics of chemical and biological processes is extremely important. Questions we often consider, explicitly or implicitly, include: Has something happened ‘instantaneously’ or will it take 20 years? Does changing the conditions or available reagents affect either the end product or the rate of a process? What intermediates are produced during a reaction? Can we characterize any intermediates? Do we need to remove them to prevent side reactions? If some or all of the reactants or products are chiral, then circular dichroism (CD) detection may be the ideal tool for following the kinetics of a reaction, and if the half-life of the reaction is of the order of milliseconds to seconds or even minutes then stopped-flow mixing of the reagents will almost certainly be the appropriate choice of sample handling method. For reactions with half-lives of a few minutes to tens of minutes the reagents can be mixed by hand in a normal cuvette and the signal monitored at an appropriate wavelength. CD is not well suited to kinetics on timescales of hours due to the baseline drift that does occur (see Chapter 4, Section 2.5). Some CD spectropolarimeters have the useful facility of being able to perform a wavelength scan at pre-set intervals as well as monitoring continuously (except during the wavelength scan) at a chosen wavelength, thus facilitating the characterization of any intermediates. In this chapter we shall highlight some of the considerations of the stopped-flow technique that are particularly relevant to CD experiments. Particular problems may be encountered when performing CD (as opposed to other detection methods) stopped-flow experiments. The measured signals are very small (typical CD intensities are 0.1% or less of the absorbance signal), and the noise level observed is particularly sensitive to any inhomogeneities or turbulence in the samples. Also, as one of the main applications of stopped-flow CD is in the study of protein folding and unfolding, samples are often very viscous and/or corrosive, have significant absorbances due to buffers etc., and the experiments often require wide and variable mixing ratios.