Physiological Compensation

Apparently no satisfactory formulation of the law of compensation has ever been made. Goethe expressed it thus: “In order to spend on the one side, Nature is forced

to economize on the other.” An excellent example of this is the well known fact that

a surfeited stomach comports with an empty head.

Compensation is a balancing of accounts. It is to weigh together or counterbalance. The principle of compensation seems to be universal in its application. Perhaps if we could all fully realize this important fact we would stop many practices we now carry on, end many institutions we now support, give up many beliefs we now hold and cease many strivings we now make.

That many ancient peoples had a deep insight into the working of the principle of compensation is shown by aphorisms they have handed down to us. “As ye give, so shall ye receive,” “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap,” “Let him that would be greatest among you be the least among you.” “The rewards of life are for service, its penalties for self-indulgence,” “We derive our highest happiness from making others happy,” are only a few evidences of the recognition of the principle of compensation, or of service and counterservice.

The principle of compensation is seen in biology, not merely in the rewards and penalties meted out to organisms for (or by) their good or bad conduct (whether service or depradation), but also in the developments of their very bodies. Darwin was so blinded by his pet hypothesis of “natural selection” that he consigned compensation to the sphere of physiology where it has, since that time, led a charmed life. He called the principle of compensation “balancement of growth” and was of the opinion that the principle of compensation “holds true to a certain extent with our domestic productions: if nourishment flows to one part or another in excess, it rarely flows, at least in excess, to another part; thus it is difficult to get a cow to give milk and to fatten readily. The same varieties of cabbage do not yield abundant and nutritious foliage and a copious supply of oil-bearing seeds. When the seeds in our fruits become atrophied, the fruit itself gains largely in size and quality. In our poultry, a large tuft of feathers on the head is usually accompanied by a diminished comb, and a large beard by diminished wattles.”

Although admitting that “many good observers, more especially botanists,” believed to the contrary, Darwin adds: “with species in a state of nature, it can hardly be maintained that the law is of universal application.” He seems to have regarded compensation as a merely casual phenomenon, occurring occasionally in the physiological economy of the organism. Perhaps this was due to his inability to fit it

into parson Malthus’ struggle for existence.

In compensation there is not only a “balancement of growth,” but there is a balancement of function or activity and a balancement of activity with rest. We cannot do two things at once with equal intensity. The effort to enjoy mental pleasures and sensual pleasures at the same time results in failure. As Albert Edward Wiggam says of his own experience: “hardly anything excites the taste as do salted peanuts. Yet I have tried eating while an express train was passing, and while listening to a symphony. I can scarcely taste them at all. Numerous experiments have been made on students trying to study while a jazz band was in action. Mental output is lowered decidedly.” He also records his efforts to enjoy food and a symphony at the same time. He found that if his attention was directed to hearing, his sense of taste was more or less inactive. I have noticed the same thing with reference to hearing and seeing. If sounds are low and indistinct, I find I can catch them better if I close my eyes, thus cutting out sight.

Twenty-five years ago I called attention to this principle that energy cannot be expended with equal intensity in two directions at the same time and illustrated it by pointing out that it is impossible to run at top speed and work a simple mathematical problem at the same time. To run at top speed one must concentrate all attention upon running. To work even the simplest mathematical problem one must devote attention to it. Hence, one either forgets the problem and concentrates upon running, or else one gives attention to the problem and slows down. In Vol. VI of this series I shall apply this principle of compensation to biogony and shall show that it has as much pathological as physiological significance.

To save in one department as against special expenditure in another is a fundamental necessity of organic activity, therefore, one must expect these compensations to be not partial but integral. The organs of the body are not independent isonomies, but co-equal partners in a unified and correlated whole. Every organ depends upon every other organ and contributes to every other organ. What an organ may spend depends upon the adequacy of support it may receive from its physiological partners. It depends upon compensation. Perhaps it were nearer correct to say that organs have no existence in themselves but are parts of a greater physiological whole, the efficiency of which depends upon the much neglected synthetic factor of symbiosis—upon cooperation, subordination and compensation. The reserve powers of an organ are built into it by the organism, as every organ contributes its quota to the reserve stores of the body. The highest degree of physiological partnership and of division of labor, together with the exaltation of the organism we call health depend, primarily, on nutrition. The system of universal

compensation is thus seen to be as much a part of the living organism as of all things else in nature. A few examples of physiological compensation will suffice to make clear its operation in the body. Hyperemia (an excess of blood) in one part of the body is accompanied, by way of compensation, by a deficiency of blood (anemia) in another part. In like manner the flow of nerve energy to different parts of the body is governed by the same law of compensation. Thus the empty head that goes with the full stomach. If circulation is to be carried on without embarrassing the heart there must be just enough blood to completely fill the circulatory system. If there is vaso-dilation (dilation of the blood vessels), in one part of the body there must be a compensatory vaso-constriction in another part of the body—or if a hyperemia exists in one part of the body a compensatory anemia must exist elsewhere and vice versa—if blood pressure is to be maintained. For instance, in digestion there is hyperemia of the stomach with anemia of the brain. We thus find thinking difficult after a full meal. If the skeletal muscles are active, as in work, play or exercise, there is vaso-constriction in the viscera and vaso-dilation in the muscles—thus digestion proceeds less rapidly during work or exercise. During ovulation there is congestion of the pelvic organs because of vaso- dilation in these with vaso-constriction in the rest of the body. During sleep there is an anemia of the brain, skin and skeletal muscles with hyperemia of the viscera. Digestion is better. This precise adjustment of the blood flow to the changing needs and conditions of the body and its parts is controlled by the autonomic nervous system. Two sets of nerve fibers (vaso-motor nerves) known as the vaso-dilators and vaso-constrictors so balance each other normally that this compensation takes place so smoothly and easily that the individual is never aware of it.

If you buy an automobile you get a high powered car, perhaps one hundred and sixty horse power, although you may not, under ordinary circumstances, need more than sixty horse power. You like to feel that the extra power is there to be used in emergencies or in climbing a steep hill. The added power is there to meet unusual demands. The body is not built on any pinched or skimpy scale, but, like the car, is built to meet unusual demands. Some of the organs of the body possess five to ten times as much active (functioning) tissue as they actually need; so that there is a wide margin of safety. Here are reserve powers and capacities that make it possible to live better and longer than we have heretofore lived. It is the possession of such reserve that enables us to abuse our bodies so long and so greatly and still live, often in a state of comparative health. In sickness nature calls upon her reserves to get us well. Unlike the engine, however, any regular demand for increased action on some part of the body occasions an increase in its size and capacity. Muscles, for example, can

grow larger as a consequence of extra work.

Every organ in the body is normally larger than it needs to be to carry on the regular activities of life. It is capable of far more work than the ordinary duties of life entail. The stomach provides secretions to meet the usual demands of digestion, but it may also provide much more secretion to meet the demands of an unusual meal. Indeed, it may provide secretion day after day to digest far more food than is needed. Ten feet of the small intestine and a large part of the stomach have been removed and life went on—in some cases with surprising vigor. In other cases life has continued with considerable vigor after the complete removal of the stomach.

The skin is able to increase its output of sweat when the external temperature or one’s muscular exertion increases the need for surface radiation. If sweating is practically suspended, as when the temperature is cold, the kidneys compensate for this skin inactivity by excreting more water. Many organs of the body, like the kidneys, eyes, ears, etc., are paired. The loss of one of these is followed by increase of capacity in the remaining one. Examples of compensation of this kind that are familiar to most people are the increased acuteness of one ear accompanying deafness of the other; increased visual acuteness in one eye following destruction of the other; increased strength in one arm following loss of the other arm, etc. A few blind people have learned to distinguish colors by touch, armless individuals often learn to do with their feet and legs what their arms should have done. It is generally believed that the loss of one eye causes the vision of the other eye to improve. Although often denied, this is probably correct. It is asserted by good authority that when an eye is lost in early life, “the other eye” acquires a greater range of movement and quickness which compensates in no small degree for the loss of its companion. It is also claimed that in persons blind from early life, the power of hearing becomes wonderfully quickened. The sense of hearing of the mole is proverbial. “Pray you tread softly that the blind mole may not hear a footfall,” says Caliban to Stephano in Trinculo. The blind fish in the mammoth cave are said to be “abnormally sensitive” to sounds.

More than two fifths of the liver may be removed and the remaining three-fifths will carry on so that the victim of the surgical vandalism will hardly miss the removed portion of the liver. One kidney may be removed, after which the remaining kidney will enlarge and carry on the work formerly done by both kidneys. I have known one patient from whom one kidney and part of the other had been removed, yet she lived and enjoyed life. The increase in the size of the lobes of the lungs following destruction of one or more lobes is also a compensatory measure. The lungs have the capacity to receive eight to ten times as much air as is usually required for respiratory purposes. They call into use this extra capacity when we run or

otherwise create a demand for more oxygen. One whole side of the lungs may be filled, as in pneumonia, or destroyed, as in tuberculosis, and life still goes on. I have two friends who lead active lives, one of them doing strenuous physical labor, neither of whom has more than half his normal quota of lungs. Both of these men have had deficient lung structure for more than thirty years.

The heart is capable of performing about thirteen times as much work as the ordinary duties of life entail, hence its marvelous power to meet the many demands for extra work that is thrown upon it. Except for this extra functioning capacity, we would never be able to run or to engage in heavy work of any type. Under conditions that would be ruinous to a machine, it continues day after day to throw three and one- half ounces of blood seventy to eighty times a minute against nine feet of water pressure. Unlike the machine, any regular increased demand for activity of the heart, results in its becoming larger and stronger, its reserve force rising with the load to be carried. Its size is influenced by the size and occupation of its owner. It is larger in large than in small individuals; and also is larger in active and vigorous than in inactive and feeble individuals.

All this is made possible, because the heart, like all other organs of the body, possesses a large reserve force which enables it, even suddenly, to meet demands that are double or more than double the usual demands made upon it. Under the usual conditions of life the body always possesses a store of reserve force. No tissue of the body is worked to its fullest capacity.

In women the additional burden which pregnancy places upon the heart may be sufficient to overcome a crippled heart, or if the heart is not too badly damaged it may be just enough to cause the heart to be greatly strengthened and improved. The work of the heart may be more than doubled by severe muscular exertion as in running or lifting. It meets this extra demand by an increased force and rapidity of contraction. If the exertion is repeated habitually the heart becomes larger and stronger just as the muscles of the arm or leg are made larger and stronger by exercise.

Reciprocity exists between the kidneys and the skin. For instance, when through exposure to cold, or due to shock, skin elimination is suspended, the kidneys increase their activities and eliminate the water and waste ordinarily eliminated through the skin. In cases of suppressed urine, that is, when kidney action is impaired, the skin eliminates large quantities of matter that should have passed out through the kidneys. In Bright’s disease the skin may get rid of some of the nitrogenous waste. Near death in this disease urea sometimes crystalizes out on the skin as “urea-frost,” as nature makes one last desperate effort to save life. These urea crystals form little solid

masses about the size of a pinhead, thickly clustered over the skin of the face. The intestine is also an excreting surface, and in Bright’s disease is able to aid the kidneys.

Graham wrote upon this point: “The depurating organs, as I have stated, reciprocate with each other in function to a considerable extent, even in the healthy state of the body, and in a diseased condition vicarious function is often attempted. Copious perspiration diminishes the secretion of the kidneys, and on the other hand, a suppression of the cutaneous function generally increases that of the kidneys. The skin and lungs reciprocate in the same manner. Excessive exhalations and excretions of the alimentary canal also frequently result from the suppression of the function of the skin and, by whatever cause induced, they are always attended with cutaneous depression. But the welfare of the particular parts, as well as of the whole system,

requires that each organ should uniformly and vigorously perform the full measure of its own duty, because frequent excesses arising from undue determination of fluids to any one part, lead to debility of the part, and often result in impaired function, imperfect assimilation, local diseases, and general injury and death. In this manner,

sudden suppression of the function of the skin often lead to diabetes and pulmonary consumption, by causing undue determination to the kidneys (In Graham’s day diabetes was thought to be a “disease” of the kidneys.—Author), and lungs, and inducing inflammation and permanent disease in these organs. The liver also suffers from all want of integrity in the other depurating organs, and its derangements compel the skin, and indeed the whole system, to make an effort to throw off the matter which it should have eliminated. Still more excessively morbid and extravagant attempts at vicarious function take place when the mammary glands and other organs endeavor to perform the duties of the kidneys. But cases of this kind are very rare; frequent enough, however, to show the wonderful resources of the vital economy in extreme emergencies and also to demonstrate the great importance of health and integrity in each and every organ.” (Italics mine.—Author) — Science of

Human Life, pp. 197–198.

Functions may be greatly increased in one direction and, by way of compensation, be equally reduced in another. Not only are functions increased or decreased, but structures also undergo similar modifications. If exercise will cause the development of larger and stronger muscles, lack of exercise will cause them to grow smaller and weaker. Compensation is ever and forever in the balance—well or sick, the law of compensation never deserts its post. Unfortunately, in our blind efforts to apply the principle of compensation we all too often substitute one kind of evil for another.

purpose. This is the secret of muscular development through exercise. It is the secret of “wind” and endurance through running. It is the secret of improving vision by using the eyes, of cultivating acute perception of minute differences in sounds seen in musicians.

The foregoing examples of enlargement of parts and increased abilities of parts to