23 and us

     A couple of months ago, Laura and I both sent off tubes of spit so that "23andme" could analyze our respective DNA. It took me two tries, I'm afraid: I had eaten a cherry tomato from the garden right before my first sample*, and the results said that most of my ancestors were from the nightshade family. That didn't seem to represent my whole story. So I had to send off another ptooey of saliva.
     If you haven't seen what 23andme is up to, you are missing quite a party. They have located 988 of my relatives so far, for one thing. They live all over the globe, and clearly have an inherited fondness for travel. I'm anxious about what this could lead to -- what if they want to see Farmington, Connecticut? Our house is pretty big, but the toilets can handle only so much.
     There's a staggering amount of health-related information at 23andme. They can tell you what your risks are for various illnesses, how likely you are to tolerate an assortment of medicines, what kind of earwax you have (so that's what that stuff is!) and whether you have inherited a tendency to gather lint in your navel. Okay, I made that one up, but I'm telling you, I will not be surprised if someone is looking closely at that.
     There are a bunch of illnesses the risks for which they can predict with strong confidence. Two of them --Alzheimer's and Parkinson's -- are under cyber lock and key. You have to keep telling them you're sure you want to know about those two. They don't want to shock you -- if you had a genetic tendency toward atrial fibrillation or high blood pressure, that could be one tragic scene, right? So it's: If you're sure, click here. Are you really sure? Click here. I'm telling you, the suspense builds like crazy.
     Finally you reach a page where they've hidden your Alzheimer's and Parkinson's results (and a winky face saying "made ya look!").
     All in all, there are more lower-than-average than higher-than-average risks for me, despite increased risks of Parkinson's, gout, Type 2 diabetes, and-- hold onto your hats -- breast cancer.
     Two other things in 23andme have grabbed my attention. First is that my genome places me in the 97th percentile for Neanderthal genes. Let's let that sink in for a moment. I have more Neanderthal in me than 97% of the human population. This explains so much, and I anticipate that I will from here forward feel somewhat vindicated when I walk into a room and can't remember what I was going to do. That used to happen to my ancestors all the time.
     The finding helps me make sense of that educational testing I had as a child, which indicated that I am an overachiever, performing beyond my actual, measurable abilities. I do more than I am actually capable of. That idea alone is, of course, a bit over my head. But now we know how true it is. Oog, as my kin used to say, furrowing their gigantic brows in vague understanding.
     23andme can also tell you how short your telomeres have become. You want nice, long telomeres, since they erode with time and age, and shorter ones mean a decreasing ability for your cells to replicate nicely. Hence, we end up wrinkly and saggy (well, we Neanderthals do, anyway -- I can't speak for the rest of you). And eventually old, in the truest sense of the word. My telomeres are unusually shortened, likely from chemo -- the gift that keeps on giving. Mine are as short as someone who is 7.82 years older. This means my birthdate might as well have been January 3, 1948, making me almost a year older than my parents' firstborn, whom I now, given my aged telomeres, think of as my kid brother, Lee.
     A note about Laura: her ancestors are white. White white white, man. They built the original suburbs in Northern Europe and still live either there or in Greenwich, Connecticut. Apparently hardly any of them were attracted to Neanderthals -- which stings a bit, I have to say.

*I trust you'll excuse this error in light of my ancestry.