So it occured to me today that school has become like a nightmare swimming lesson. Picture yourself in the 12 ft. deep section of an olympic-size swimming pool. Now add the fact that the only preparation for this swim was that you recently aquired Floaties (but still haven't quite figured out the exact way to inflate and use them). At this point, you're either a sad 3 year old who has the remarkable ability to read blogs but is about to drown, or you are in medical school.
Being the later, I'll go on. So, you're in the middle lane and you are trying to make it down to the 3ft. section of the pool. Seems easy, right? Until your swim instructors start running along the side of the pool (where are the uptight, "No Running!"-lifeguards when you need them?) and throwing buckets of water at you. Yes, that's right, splashes out on you stealing what little breath of air you had; and, oh why not, the bucket itself hits you in the head too.
One after another, after another! They never stop! The next thing you know, the swim instructor is flying overhead in a National Forest Service Fire Helicopter and releases 500,000 gallons of water, knocking you 11ft back underwater again.
OK, so maybe it's not that bad. I know I'm complaining about something that I *willingly* pursued. But there really is no such thing as even being "caught up" these days. Every test hinges on the fact that if you just happen to miss one question too many..*just one question* more than the person next to you, there is a good chance that you're goin' home. The stakes are high, and the financial debt you're already in is higher.
I'm thinking medical school must be something like NAVY SEALs "for the rest of us."
Clap Hands
Simply amazing. They're doing all of this with forks, spoons, and a turkey.
Beck was on SNL last weekend and rocked. This song, "Clap Hands", was my favorite.
They've got a new CD out this fall called "The Information."
Anyone wanna try this with me during Thanksgiving dinner? We've still got some time to practice...
Beck was on SNL last weekend and rocked. This song, "Clap Hands", was my favorite.
They've got a new CD out this fall called "The Information."
Anyone wanna try this with me during Thanksgiving dinner? We've still got some time to practice...
Race For The Cure
Heather is a much better person than I am. And I guess she looks better in pink than I do.
Out of bed at 6am, she put on her white Race for the Cure long-sleeved shirt, speckled with lots of company sponsor logos as almost all race shirts are. The night before, she had already picked out her pink "athletic-running-jogging-type" pants to complete the look (and, I think, to make sure her sister would be proud of her wearing clothes that match during exercise), and she headed to downtown Birmingham's Linn Park.
I rolled back over and went to sleep.
She was at the downtown park by 7:30 and ready to run. Her school of public health raised thousands of dollars through this race and through bake sales for the national Susan Komen Foundation's Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign.
Our entire medical school raised around $35 total.
I made it to downtown and found the park. The were pink balloons everywhere, and the energy was high. After wandering aimlessly through the festivities for a good 10 minutes, I found the finish line. The Official Race Clock said that 42 minutes had elapsed. Little did I know that I had just missed Heather's triumphant crossing in an impressive time of only 40 minutes (compared to another guy I know who runs every day, and it took him 37 minutes to complete the Race for the Cure today).
I don't think I would have ever taken an interest in the cause or the race if Heather hadn't taken the initiative to do it this year.
But I encourage you to find a Race for the Cure in your area. There is something really great about seeing the ladies with special Pink Survivor Shirts cross the finish line. I imagine it feels even better to know that you ran with them and donated your entry fee to fund research that will help others.
Good job, Heather. I think you've earned a nap.
Out of bed at 6am, she put on her white Race for the Cure long-sleeved shirt, speckled with lots of company sponsor logos as almost all race shirts are. The night before, she had already picked out her pink "athletic-running-jogging-type" pants to complete the look (and, I think, to make sure her sister would be proud of her wearing clothes that match during exercise), and she headed to downtown Birmingham's Linn Park.
I rolled back over and went to sleep.
She was at the downtown park by 7:30 and ready to run. Her school of public health raised thousands of dollars through this race and through bake sales for the national Susan Komen Foundation's Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign.
Our entire medical school raised around $35 total.
I made it to downtown and found the park. The were pink balloons everywhere, and the energy was high. After wandering aimlessly through the festivities for a good 10 minutes, I found the finish line. The Official Race Clock said that 42 minutes had elapsed. Little did I know that I had just missed Heather's triumphant crossing in an impressive time of only 40 minutes (compared to another guy I know who runs every day, and it took him 37 minutes to complete the Race for the Cure today).
I don't think I would have ever taken an interest in the cause or the race if Heather hadn't taken the initiative to do it this year.
But I encourage you to find a Race for the Cure in your area. There is something really great about seeing the ladies with special Pink Survivor Shirts cross the finish line. I imagine it feels even better to know that you ran with them and donated your entry fee to fund research that will help others.
Good job, Heather. I think you've earned a nap.
Leaving Grandpappy Netter
Leaving people is often hard. It suprised me that leaving a dead person is, in a way, hard too. After each round of tests in anatomy (one lecture exam and one lab exam based on the cadavers and identifying muscles, nerves, arteries, etc), one's lab group must rotate from its current cadaver to another cadaver. A stranger. Someone with a different body, a different feel, and a different story.
Our first cadaver was a 92 year old man who was quite healthy. He died in 2005 because of a random hemorrhage, or bleeding, into his brain and spinal cord.
His muscles rivaled those of a 20 year old. He had taken great
care of himself in life and could easily have lived another 8 years
if not for the fluke incident of cerebral hemorrhaging.
Our Grandpappy Netter (named after the late artist and physician Frank Netter who authored our anatomy atlas) was good to us too: when
a structure on his body was pinned with a miniature flag like those on your steak signifying medium rare or well done, the structure was easily identified as the ligamentum flavum. Believe it or not, that was probably the easiest question on the lab test.
So, now we have moved to the table on our left in the downstairs dungeon that is the anatomy lab. We might as well have moved across the state, as this new woman is completely different. She was in her late 80s, and she died of myeloma.
Her body is neither strong nor powerful. Hers is a weak body that tells of the long struggle she must have had with this bone-stealing cancer.
We dissected her chest wall, snipping the ribs along the way, and reflecting the chest
back almost like removing a shining knight's armored chest plate.
Inside rested her two lungs, finally at peace from 87 years of everyday breathing.
The dissection also called for us to remove those lungs. At this point, the professor who rotates around the lab visiting tables happened to stop at our body. He leaned in, took out his personal scalpel, and carefully made an incision where her lung was attached to the trachea.
"Watch very closely," he said. As he cut, bubbles began to rise out from the inside bronchiole tubes of her lung.
"Those air bubbles are from the last breath she ever took"
Our anatomy group stood there in silent awe for a moment, trying to take it all in; the fugaciousness of life.
Our first cadaver was a 92 year old man who was quite healthy. He died in 2005 because of a random hemorrhage, or bleeding, into his brain and spinal cord.
His muscles rivaled those of a 20 year old. He had taken great
care of himself in life and could easily have lived another 8 years
if not for the fluke incident of cerebral hemorrhaging.
Our Grandpappy Netter (named after the late artist and physician Frank Netter who authored our anatomy atlas) was good to us too: when
a structure on his body was pinned with a miniature flag like those on your steak signifying medium rare or well done, the structure was easily identified as the ligamentum flavum. Believe it or not, that was probably the easiest question on the lab test.
So, now we have moved to the table on our left in the downstairs dungeon that is the anatomy lab. We might as well have moved across the state, as this new woman is completely different. She was in her late 80s, and she died of myeloma.
Her body is neither strong nor powerful. Hers is a weak body that tells of the long struggle she must have had with this bone-stealing cancer.
We dissected her chest wall, snipping the ribs along the way, and reflecting the chest
back almost like removing a shining knight's armored chest plate.
Inside rested her two lungs, finally at peace from 87 years of everyday breathing.
The dissection also called for us to remove those lungs. At this point, the professor who rotates around the lab visiting tables happened to stop at our body. He leaned in, took out his personal scalpel, and carefully made an incision where her lung was attached to the trachea.
"Watch very closely," he said. As he cut, bubbles began to rise out from the inside bronchiole tubes of her lung.
"Those air bubbles are from the last breath she ever took"
Our anatomy group stood there in silent awe for a moment, trying to take it all in; the fugaciousness of life.
Birthday!
Happy Birthday Heather!
You are much loved today and every day.
I can't wait to see you after school!
You are much loved today and every day.
I can't wait to see you after school!
Back in the saddle
During orientation for med school last week, they told us that we would benefit tremendously by writing down our thoughts and stories from school. I really don't think people want to read stories about me cutting on dead people during Anatomy or listening to crazy stories about gunshot wounds from patients in the hospital....
Wait a minute. Tons of people will be interested in that stuff!
So, with Heather's motivation I'll begin writing more often. Hang around and read my blog, and I'll try to get UASOM to mail you a diploma in 4 years too.
Off to study the Extensor muscles of the arm.
Wait a minute. Tons of people will be interested in that stuff!
So, with Heather's motivation I'll begin writing more often. Hang around and read my blog, and I'll try to get UASOM to mail you a diploma in 4 years too.
Off to study the Extensor muscles of the arm.
