Like millions of other modern humans, my daughter and I stood in the backyard recently and watched comet C/2023 A3 (Tsuchinshan–ATLAS) with binoculars. It took a few minutes to locate, but once you see it is unmistakable.
It’s got a long (at least in human terms) orbit, roughly 80,000 years. So what was going on here, on our pale blue dot, the last time it graced our skies?
Well, here in Phoenix, the people were ... not here. Nor were they in Arizona, or North America, or pretty much the entire Western Hemisphere.
In fact, Homo sapiens were confined to Africa. The hardier Neanderthals had successfully moved into Eurasia, but our lineage was just starting to migrate there. There’s some evidence that we numbered maybe 10,000-15,000 at that point. Far more people saw the comet that night in the United States than our entire population count last time it swung by.
But we were moving up in the world. Our ancestors at the time had developed the first forms of jewelry, using seashells. There’s evidence that we’d learned to trade with other, distant, communities. We were using spears to put dinner on the table with less risk to ourselves than clubs posed.
And, in what’s now Kenya, in the same time frame, a pair of grieving parents carefully buried their 3-year-old child, wrapped in a covering and gently placed on a pillow.
Sadly, this isn’t a scene we’re unfamiliar with. Possibly the most famous painting of a physician is “The Doctor” (1891) by Luke Fildes, showing a physician trying to treat a seriously ill child while the parents look on helplessly.
Tate, London 2017
"The Doctor," by Luke Fildes (1891).
What did the Kenyan child die from? We’ll probably never know. Did they try to treat it? Most likely.
Humans, by nature, form societies. The size varies, but everyone has a role. There was probably some ancestor of Fildes’ doctor in the group who tried to help. Perhaps with prayers in an unknown tongue, or a preparation of certain leaves, or placing the child near a fire. When whatever they tried failed, the same person likely consoled the parents. Maybe they were involved in the burial, too.
The child would be found in 2017, giving us the first clear evidence of a ritual human burial in Africa. Just like today, we let go of our lost ones with ceremony. Perhaps the parents noticed the comet and thought it was their child’s spirit departing.
Now the comet is back. The planet hasn’t changed dramatically in 80,000 years (which isn’t much in geological time), but we have.
Would today’s doctors have been able to save the child? No idea, though we probably have a better chance than our professional ancestor did.
Dr. Allan M. Block
But our job hasn’t changed. Like us, the ancient practitioner probably tried to figure out why the child was sick and what could be done about it. When it was over they, and others, grieved with the parents.
The comet will be back in 80,000 years. On our scale, that’s a long time. The entire recorded history of our species is only 5,000 to 8,000 years. We’ve come a long way, but where we’re going in 80,000 years is anyone’s guess.
Will doctors in the year 82024 even know what we do now to care for people? Will they still be practicing on the third rock from the sun, or spread out across the galaxy? Will there even be doctors? (Probably, in one form or another.)
But We do our best to care, heal, and hope now, as we did then, and as our descendants will.
And, like my daughter and I did, no matter where we are, we will still look up at the sky with wonder.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.