Purpose To investigate the rate of lesions of the corpus callosum (CC), specifically unidentified bright objects (UBOs) and gliomas, in a large cohort of Neurofibromatosis type 1 (NF1) patients.Methods We reviewed the medical records of 681 patients (aged 3 months to 86 years) followed at our institution from 2000-2023 with a diagnosis of NF1 and ≥ 1 brain MRI. Patients with UBOs or gliomas in the CC were identified and the change in lesions over time was recorded. RAPNO/RANO criteria were used to determine changes in size.Results Forty-seven patients had CC UBOs (9.2% of the 512 patients with any UBO). The majority of CC UBOs were in the splenium (66.0%), followed by the body (21.3%), and genu (12.8%). Seventeen patients had CC gliomas, two of whom had 2 gliomas, representing 10% of the 170 patients with any glioma. Seventeen of nineteen gliomas were in the splenium. Over follow-up, 8/19 remained stable, 3/19 decreased in size, and 8/19 increased in size. The mean percentage change in the product of the dimensions was 311.5% (ranging from -46.7% to 2566.6%). Of the 8 lesions that grew, only one required treatment.Conclusions There is a 6.9% and 2.5% prevalence of CC UBOs and gliomas, respectively, in our cohort of patients with NF1. Most lesions are present in the splenium, and while some gliomas demonstrate significant growth, they rarely require treatment. This work is the largest series of corpus callosal lesions in NF1 and adds to growing data to better inform appropriate follow-up.
Abstract This introduction highlights the historically oriented scholarship and politically engaged writing that examines places and times without police, which appear in this issue. Modern approaches to governance generally take the presence of police as necessary to maintaining social peace, even though police have proven to fail at fostering public safety and in fact tend to escalate harm and violence. Following the lead of activists working to dismantle police, prisons, and other institutions of state violence, the introduction takes seriously the question of how to imagine, and to build, a world without police. It looks specifically to historical analysis as an especially useful vantage from which to respond to this provocation and outlines how the issue’s contributors detail times and places when people worked without or against formal institutions of modern police.
Traditional histories of the Korean War have long focused on violations of the thirty-eighth parallel, the line drawn by American and Soviet officials in 1945 dividing the Korean peninsula. But this book presents an entirely new narrative, shifting the perspective from the boundaries of the battlefield to inside the interrogation room. The book demonstrates how the Korean War evolved from a fight over territory to one over human interiority and the individual human subject, forging the template for the US wars of intervention that would predominate during the latter half of the twentieth century and beyond. The book looks at how, during the armistice negotiations, the United States and their allies proposed a new kind of interrogation room: one in which prisoners of war could exercise their “free will” and choose which country they would go to after the ceasefire. The global controversy that erupted exposed how interrogation rooms had become a flashpoint for the struggles between the ambitions of empire and the demands for decolonization, as the aim of interrogation was to produce subjects who attested to a nation's right to govern. The complex web of interrogators and prisoners that the book uncovers contradicts the simple story in US popular memory of “brainwashing” during the Korean War. Bringing together a vast range of sources that track two generations of people moving between three continents, the book delves into an essential yet overlooked aspect of modern warfare in the twentieth century.
