There have been many cases of brain damage to regions of the brain that let people see what that part of the brain is for. Are there any cases/regions that damage causes a lost sense of self-awareness, and, if so, where/what else does that damage affect?Are there documented cases of brain damage to regions that make someone lose a sense/ability to express self-?
This is an article found at
http://www.mc.maricopa.edu/anthropology/鈥?/a>
all rights owned by the author James Shreeve
What Happened to Phineas?
Attend the tale of Phineas Gage. Honest, well liked by friends and
fellow workers on the Rutland and Burlington Railroad,
Gage was a young man of exemplary character and promise until one day
in September 1848. While tamping down the
blasting powder for adynamite charge, Gage inadvertently sparked an
explosion. The inch-thick tamping rod rocketed through
his cheek, obliterating his left eye on its way through his brain and
out the top of his skull. The rod landed several yards away,
and Gage fell back in a convulsive heap. Yet a moment later he stood
up and spoke; his fellow workers watched, aghast, then
drove him by oxcart to a hotel, where a local doctor, one John Harlow,
dressed his wounds. As Harlow stuck his index fingers
into the holes in Gage's face and head until their tips met, the young
man inquired when he would be able to return to work.
Within two months, the physical organism that was Phineas Gage had
completely recovered--he could walk, speak, and
demonstrate normal awareness of his surroundings. But the character of
the man did not survive the tamping rod's journey
through his brain. In place of the diligent, dependable worker stood a
foulmouthed and ill-mannered liar given to extravagant
schemes that were never followed through. ';Gage,'; said his friends,
';was no longer Gage.
This past year neurobiologists Hanna and Antonio Damasio of the
University of Iowa finally pinpointed what Gage had lost.
The Damasios had long been interested in the case; in the intervening
century it had become a classic in neurology textbooks.
The scientific interest had begun with John Harlow, who on hearing of
Gage's death in an epileptic fit 13 years after the
accident persuaded the family to exhume the remains and donate the
skull to medical research. Harlow believed that the
change in Gage's personality had been wrought by damage to the frontal
lobes of the brain. ';The equilibrium . . . between his
intellectual faculties and animal propensities seems to have been
destroyed,'; Harlow wrote.
But nineteenth-century science had a hard time accepting the notion
that a dollop of gray jelly could govern something so
transcendent as social behavior. ';Harlow was never given much credit,';
says Antonio Damasio. ';Some people didn't even
believe that Gage's story had ever happened.
So the Damasios decided, 130 years after the fact, to do an
autopsy--to track down where, exactly, the damage in Gage's
brain had occurred. Guided by anatomic clues on Gage's battered skull,
now preserved in the Warren Medical Museum at
Harvard, Hanna Damasio used computer modeling and neural imaging
techniques to determine the path the tamping rod had
taken through the brain. The most likely trajectory by far, the
Damasios found, would have spared the regions of the frontal
lobes necessary for language and motor function. But it would have
done ruinous damage to a portion of the underbelly of the
frontal lobes called the ventromedial region, especially on the left
side.
Apparently the loss of that region is what made Gage so antisocial.
This did not surprise the Damasios; in present-day patients
whose ventromedial region has been damaged by tumor, accident, or
surgery, they have observed the same sort of personality
change as Gage's. But it was gratifying to solve a case that was at
the root of so much modern research--and at the same time
to pay homage to an underappreciated predecessor. ';Gage's story was
the historical beginnings of the study of the biological
basis of behavior,'; says Antonio Damasio, ';and the location of his
lesion had always been a mystery. This was a way to give
poor Dr. Harlow his due.'; --James Shreeve
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