The Reality of Suspended Animation isn't as Far-Fetched as Once Thought

When I was younger, my brother had a pet tortoise. It's name was Squirtle, Turtle, Yurtle or Chomper, depending on which family member you asked. I was fond of my brother's tortoise, and was a little nervous when I learned that, at the beginning of winter, we were supposed to put him in a box of shredded paper, and leave the box unattended in the storage shed for three months.

I checked in on that guy once a week, certain, each time, that I would open the shed and smell the telltale odor of roadkill, from an animal that hadn't had any food, water or sunlight in weeks. But he always smelled turtle-normal, and always looked just fine. At the end of the three months, we stuck him back in his terrarium, and he woke right up, somewhat groggy, but no worse for wear.

That's hibernation for you. Bears do it, squirrels do it, my brother's tortoise did it, and, apparently, we humans can do it, too.

Of course, we don't take a three-month-long nap every winter, but scientists have reason to believe that the secret to hibernation could be hidden somewhere in the physiology of all mammals. Hibernation could be a latent ability that homo-sapiens don't take advantage of, but still have locked away somewhere.

In October 2006, in Japan, a man named Mitsutaka Uchikoshi stumbled and hit his head in a field on Rokko Mountain, on his way home from a party. He was found twenty four days later, having had no food or water, presumed dead, only to surprise everyone by waking up at the hospital.

And it's not an isolated incident. Barring miracles, there has to be some mechanism that allowed this man, and people who've been in similar situations, to survive. Well, recently scientists have actually been working toward understanding and controlling this function, and they've made some amazing advances.