The Profanity of Phineas Gage
You'll laugh! You'll cry! You'll get an iron rod straight through the fucking dome!
I've probably reached an age where I'm old enough to start lecturing the young people on what they should do with their lives.
I won't, because I'm not an arsehole, but I feel like there's one thing to tell kids NOT to do: Try not to end up being "the most studied case" of something.
There are exceptions. Usain Bolt is the most studied sprinter of all time, not least because champion sprinters tended to be short and Bolt is exceptionally tall - conventional wisdom said that shorter legs were able to take more steps and generate more explosive power over short distances, until Bolt at 6' 5" broke every flat record.1 Still, nothing wrong with studying that.
More frequently, however, being the most studied person in a field means something has gone badly wrong with your circumstances. Phineas Gage is a perfect example.
Until the age of 29, Gage was a successful and unremarkable railroad worker. Then, in September of 1848, Gage was working to clear an inconvenient mountain out of the way of the railroad using explosives. Specifically, he was tamping explosives into a hole in the rock using a three foot, iron tamping rod when the gunpowder spontaneously ignited and blew the tamping rod through Gage's jaw and out the top of his head.
For a moment, everyone was surprised - probably none more so than Gage, who wobbled in place for a second and then collapsed as the tamping rod landed behind him. His colleagues then rushed to his side and found that Gage was not only still alive but that he wasn't even unconscious. He was carried to a nearby house where he remained lucid and talking while a doctor was summoned. The rod had neatly removed a cylindrical piece of his brain on its way through his head, but somehow not killed him. He quickly became the most studied neurological case in history, hence my point.
Gage lived, improbably, for another twelve years, and conventional wisdom has it that his personality was irrevocably changed. Legend says that he became bad tempered and prone to drinking and strange outbursts, one colleague allegedly saying that he "just wasn't Gage anymore."
In fact, investigation by the Skeptoid podcast has found that there is only one reference to Gage's personality changing and that this was from a journal dedicated to the long-debunked practice of phrenology.
The truth seems to be that Gage, having toured the side show circuit for a while, tired of being a public curiosity and eventually moved to Chile, where he set up and ran a business as a stage coach driver. This, as scholars have pointed out, would have required mental and physical skill, so the popular perception of Gage as an angry nutcase seems to be totally based around a phrenology journal which noted that Gage had "become profane during his recovery."
With all this in mind, I present a short play: "The Profanity of Phineas Gage."
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The Profanity of Phineas Gage.
[INT. DAY. PHINEAS GAGE'S room. PHINEAS is in bed, stirring occasionally, surrounded by his Supervisor, the Landlord of his building and a local Journalist.]
LANDLORD: I do believe he's coming around... Phineas! Phineas, can you hear me?!
PHINEAS: [Stirs and comes to.] ...Fuuuuuuck!
[Embarassment and grumbling from those assembled]
PHINEAS: [Still trying to make sense of what he can remember] Fucking... fuuuck! FUCK! Oh, fuck! [He remembers a large piece of the top of his head is missing and feels for it, frantically] FUCK! [His hands find bandages over a missing skull piece] Aw, FUCK!
SUPERVISOR: Phineas! Good God, man, get ahold of yourself!
PHINEAS: [Stares at him for a moment] ...Fuck you! Fuckin'... fuuuuck!
LANDLORD: It's alright, Phineas! You've been in quite the accident!
PHINEAS: I know I've been in a fucking accident! A fucking iron bar went through my fucking head!
REPORTER: That's right Mister Gage! We were worried you wouldn't remember. [He picks the iron bar up from under the bed and demonstrates as he speaks] It went right in under your jaw!
PHINEAS: Gaaah! Why the fucking fuck would you bring that fucking thing in here?!
SUPERVISOR: Well, it still had some brain on it when it landed. We thought maybe it might be useful to put it back in, but the doctor said not...
LANDLORD: Now that his fever has broken we should send for the Doctor again!
PHINEAS: You keep that fucking quack away from me!
SUPERVISOR: Phineas, you don't know what you're saying, you've been very sick.
PHINEAS: I wasn't sick until that Doctor started poking his fingers into my brain hole! I remember him doing it!
REPORTER: Surely, the good doctor's efforts were only to help you...
PHINEAS: He didn't even wash his hands! He was playing with the dog while he examined me!
SUPERVISOR: I still think he should take a look at you.
PHINEAS: You bring that fucking Doctor near me and I'll beat him to death with my brain iron! [He grabs the iron bar off the bed and clutches it, defensively.]
LANDLORD: What about a different Doctor, then? Doctor Harlow has been quite anxious to see you for some time.
[DOCTOR HARLOW enters]
HARLOW: Ah, I see the patient is awake! Can your hear me, Phineas?
PHINEAS: [Exasperated] Yes, I can hear you.
HARLOW: And how are you, my boy?!
PHINEAS: How the fuck do you think I am?! I had an iron bar blown through my fucking head! I lost an eye! And probably several years of schooling. I keep trying to remember what two and two is, and what's left of my brain insists that it's "purple." That can't be right.
HARLOW: [to the others] He seems most ill-tempered. It must be the damage to his manner bumps. [He gestures to the top of his head where he erroneously believes the manner bumps are located.]
PHINEAS: Stop talking about me like I'm not here, you shitcunt!
HARLOW: Yes, it is quite clear to me that the rod utterly destroyed the "agreeableness" portion of his skull. Let me demonstrate. [He gestures to the LANDLORD] Our friend here is perfectly happy, but if I begin to poke him in the head, like so...
LANDLORD: [Increasingly uncomfortable with being poked in the head] ...Um, could you stop that?
HARLOW: And there we have it!
REPORTER: [Taking notes] Fascinating!
PHINEAS: Can one of you assholes at least bring me a drink?!
HARLOW: Ah, yes; the path of the bar not only ruined the manner bumps of his agreeableness quadrant, it damaged his sobriety nodule. He'll be a hopeless alcoholic from here on.
PHINEAS: No, I just mean some water or-
HARLOW: Yes, I'm afraid that there's nothing we can do. He will be an imbecile and a drunkard henceforth.
PHINEAS: Oh, fuck you! Fuck all of you! Fuck all of you in a burning fucking dumpster! Get out! Get out, all purple of you!
[The four men shuffle outside]
HARLOW: It seems he has become quite profane. I will be forced to record that his society is now intolerable to decent people...2
[They shake their heads in sad agreement as the curtain falls.]
It's been pointed out by Cheese Rolling enthusiasts that whilst Usain Bolt is the fastest man over the conventional hundred meters, Cheese Rolling participants have occasionally beaten him with a lot of assistance from gravity and momentum.
Actual quote from the phrenologist. It’s also true that the worst of Gage’s illness was caused by an infection which was likely caused or exacerbated by the previous Doctor poking around in his wound.