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Byron F, Johannesburg
I Am Joe’s Adrenal Gland
With kind acknowledgment to JD Racliff
Gram for gram, I pack more dynamite than any other organ in Joe’s body.* I can cripple him, sicken him, send him to the madhouse, kill him. I haven’t done any of these things, of course. I have behaved so well that Joe is hardly aware of my existence.
(*Joe, 47, is a typical American man. A number of his other organs have told their stories.)
I am the adrenal gland that perches on top of his right kidney. Like a little jockey, my twin partner rides the
other. I am roughly the shape of a tricorn hat, not much larger than
the tip of a finger; I weigh about as much as a nickel. But my talents are immense; it would take acres of chemical plant to synthesize the 50-odd hormone-like substances that I manufacture. Although I produce less than a thousandth of an ounce of them a day, they play key roles in just about everything Joe does.
I am absolutely essential to life. Remove my partner and me, and Joe would be dead in a day or so – unless his doctor started feeding him artificial hormones in a hurry. Slow down our work, and watch Joe’s life slow down too. Soon he would become weak, debilitated – a mere shell of his former self.
Had a portion of me become over-active when Joe was a boy, results would have been similarly striking. The little lad would have become a little man. His voice would have deepened, his beard sprouted, his sexual apparatus taken on manly proportions. Bone ends, which should remain open and soft until full growth is reached, would have closed prematurely. And Joe would have gone through life as a runty little fellow.
For a long time I was the mystery organ of Joe’s body. No one knew what I did – only that my removal meant death. As chemists began to pry out my secrets, they discovered my virtuosity. When they learned of my cortisone-like hormones, for instance, they were truly astonished – for these substances alone are useful in treating upward of 100 diseases, ranging from gout to ulcerative colitis to asthma.
And consider my architecture. I have one of the richest networks of blood vessels found in the body. Each minute, six times my weight of blood passes through me. I also have a big reserve capacity. Ten percent of my tissue is sufficient to meet Joe’s normal needs for my hormones. However, if I were to dwindle down to the ten percent level, and Joe faced a really big stress – a severe illness, say, or major surgery – it would very likely kill him. He wouldn’t have enough of my protective hormones to save him.
Actually, I produce two basic sets of hormones. My medulla, or core, makes one set; my cortex, or rind, the other. My core has a unique feature: its own hot line to Joe’s brain. Let Joe have any strong emotion – a sudden rage, an overwhelming fear – and my medulla gets the information instantly. Obviously, I don’t know the nature of the emergency. So I prepare Joe for either fight or flight. My medulla starts pouring two hormones – adrenalin and noradrenaline – into Joe’s bloodstream.
The response of Joe’s body is extraordinary. His liver immediately releases stored sugar – instant energy – into his bloodstream. My hormones shut down skin blood vessels – Joe goes pale – and start sluicing this extra blood into muscles and internal organs. Joe’s heart speeds up, and arteries tighten to hoist blood pressure. Digestion comes to a halt – no time to worry about that detail right now – and the clotting time of Joe’s blood is quickened, in case of injury.
I’ve accomplished all this in seconds. Suddenly, Joe is a virtual superman. If his survival necessitates running faster, jumping farther, hitting harder or lifting more than ever before, he is now capable of it.
He has heard stories of individuals lifting overturned cars to release trapped victims. It was adrenal hormones that made this possible.
Obviously, such stimulation can’t go on indefinitely; Joe’s body would race itself to death. So, a tricky bit of protection has gone to work. The same stresses that stimulate production of adrenalin also cause the hypothalamus to signal the pituitary gland to release a substance called ACTH. This
ACTH in turn prods my cortex, or rind, into stepping up production of its hormones. Under conditions of stress, it’s the job of these hormones to maintain blood pressure and the flow of blood to vital organs, and to help convert fat and protein into sugar – an immediately utilizable form of energy. Soon, everything is under control once again.
The hormones that my cortex produces fall into three broad classes. One set (of the cortisone family) superintends metabolism of fats, carbohydrates and proteins; a second watches over water and mineral balance in Joe’s body. The third batch is the sex hormones – supplementing those produced by the gonads. Since these hormones can’t be stored, I must manufacture them constantly, and the liver must see to it that any excess is destroyed. Thus the hormones that my cortex produced two hours ago have already been largely replaced by a fresh supply.
Keeping things in exact balance is all-important. Suppose something happens to Joe – and injury, a disease – that knocks out the working cells of my cortex. Until research mean learned how to manufacture my chief hormones, this was a sentence of death. And it wasn’t pretty. The victim seemed to get a dozen diseases at once. Skin took on a bronze tint; anemia developed; muscles wasted away; weight and blood pressure dropped; appetite dwindled; there was nausea, vomiting, diarrhea. Steadily, the victim grew weaker and wearier, and death was usually welcome. Fortunately, Joe doesn’t have to worry about this today; should anything happen to my cortex, artificial hormones could allow him to lead a near-normal life.
Too much of my cortical hormones can be almost as bad as too little. Suppose there is too much cortisol – my hormone of the cortisone family, Joe’s arms and legs would shrivel as the excess converted muscle protein into sugar. Drained of minerals, bones would become brittle. Fat would accumulate across Joe’s back and in folds on his abdomen, overloading his now spindly legs.
Blood pressure would soar; mental aberrations would become common.
(Editor’s note: one of the reasons for increased psychiatric drugs which only worsen the problem!)
Another of the major hormones of my cortex is aldosterone, which helps maintain a mineral and water balance in Joe’s body. Too much – even a pinhead amount – and Joe would be in real trouble. Vital potassium would be lost in urine, and excess sodium (salt) would be retained. Joe’s muscles would weaken and possibly become paralyzed. His heart would race, his blood pressure soar, his fingers tingle; headache would be continuous and almost unbearable. Aldosterone overproduction is usually caused by tumors, and when the tumor is removed, recovery is assured.
Obviously, none of these things have happened to Joe; not yet, anyway. They merely indicate what a Pandora’s box I can be. For years now, I have done my many jobs so well that Joe has almost forgotten I exist. He’d better not forget completely, though, because there is something he can do to help ensure my continued well-being.
Joe should remember that too much stress – too much worry, anger, hate – is bad for him and for me. Thus he might try to calm down a bit.
Instant CalMag-C
That’s where Instant CalMag-C comes in. Besides a good balanced diet which includes a good dose of the B vitamins (Brewer’s Yeast is best), particularly B5, salt and potassium, calcium and magnesium are very important as part of the mineral balance to help the adrenals and reduce stress. Besides the hundreds of other chemical reactions that occur in the body because of calcium and magnesium, it helps calm your nerves.
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