The Heart and Soul of the Matter

Greetings, once again, RoxtoLions! It has been some time since the editor has invited me to grace the pages of this fine publication, and it is great to be home! As you might recall, I somehow managed to consume my allotted nine lives in just three short years. One would think that as a oneeyed cat, the Egyptian feline gods would have granted me some sort of extension, but I guess we are all doomed to the same fate. To those of you who enjoyed my columns in previous years, welcome back! For those who found my commentary objectionable, well, go ahead and work your Texas Crossword puzzle and ignore my winking eye. A-hah! I knew it. I had your attention at my byline. While I have been toiling in the great feline beyond, I can see the Progress is still trudging along. I am here to breathe renewed life into these pages. I will begin with news of the editor’s decision to begin his professional “second act” a few months ago. The editor, who certainly knows nothing of medicine as evidenced by the fact I am no longer lounging in the halls of the palace, decided to become a Rhythm Management Technician with a Little Rock hospital. Of course, the title electrocardiographic technician is equally applicable, as are the acronyms “ECG” and “EKG” technician. But this column is not about the editor’s second career; rather, I wish to explain the facts to those who have always wondered why “ECG” and “EKG” are used interchangeably. Experts in medical history will tell you that the use of a “C” versus a “K” is simply a matter of which language a person choosing to use as the basis of the word “cardiac.” If one prefers the Latin as used in ancient Rome, a “C” is an accurate choice. On the other hand, if one descends from Greece, the letter “K” or “Kappa” is more appropriate. So, the short of the story is that two ancient societies used different alphabets. But as you know, I have insight into history that dwells far below the surface of what is obvious. An ancestor of mine, Eachann Gaetano, was well-known in ancient Rome as one of the finest mousers the civilization had ever known. In fact, Eachann held the position of chief mouser at the Coliseum, a sporting facility whose ruins attract millions of visitors annually to the city that once ruled most of Europe. One can certainly imagine the numbers of rats and mice infesting such a facility; after all, the Romans were not too concerned about the living conditions of those who’d be fed to the lions for the purpose of entertaining thousands of spectators within a few days. Eachann was by no means a cruel individual. In fact, the cruelty he witnessed in the Coliseum was too much for him to bear. So, rather than round the resident rodents up for a barbeque, he’d sneak them out to the countryside each night. No one ever suspected what he was doing as the next morning the Coliseum had fewer rats and mice than the day before. Eachann became wellknown among both the Coliseum staff and the fans who attended daily lion feedings. Of course, he was equally known and much appreciated by the resident rodent population, so much so that he became known as “the mouser with a heart.” Now, while the Romans were busy doing their thing, across the bay in Greece, Athens was a flurry of activity. When the Greeks weren’t carving stone into buildings, they were inventing games that eventually became the Olympics. The facilities in which the Olympics were conducted had a similar problem as the Roman Coliseum — a rodent infestation. Well, it just so happened that the games’ organizers contacted Eachann about transferring from Rome to Athens and assuming the prestigious position of coordinator of mousers for the Olympic games. Eachann declined, but he did give a fine recommendation to a friend who eventually accepted the position, Eben Ganix. It is no coincidence that the Greek meaning for “Ganix” is “merciful.” Eben, like his friend Eachann, had little interest in ordering his staff to kill and eat rats and mice. After all, can you imagine all of Athens walking down the street for the afternoon boulder throwing competition and having to side-step a graveyard of half-eaten rodents? Not only would the sight have been hideous but Athens would have been a haven of disease. So, like Eachann, Eben saw to it that the rodent population was not consumed but instead led into the countryside. Not coincidentally, Eben became a hero to Greek rodents who claimed they had never met a mouser with as large a heart. So, Eben and Eachann shared fame, the first ancient mousers known for their hearts rather than their teeth. So, you ask, how does all this work into the “ECG” versus “EKG” discussion. Well, the answer is simpler than even the one taught to medical students. The Roman mouser with a heart’s full name was Eachann Cadmael Gaetano, while his Greek counterpart’s given name was Eben Kacper Ganix — hence the initials “ECG” and “EKG” became synonymous with the word “heart.” And that is why the acronyms are used interchangeably in the modern medical era. Until next time, I urge you to take a look into your own heart, and from it decide how you will be kind to a feline today!