Thirteen scenes from Gross Anatomy
Nothing says “medical school” like Gross Anatomy. Think about it: anyone can study microbiology, histology, or pathology. But how many people get to cut up dead bodies? How many people would want to?
Maybe in the future, cadaver dissection will be replaced by in computero practical exercises, but I doubt it. A big part of training is learning to violate taboos — getting close to people, asking them the most intimate of questions, touching them in ways even their spouses wouldn’t touch them, and hurting them. None of this comes naturally; all of it must be learned. Or, rather, unlearned. It’s all about breaking down internal barriers.
And that’s why Gross Anatomy will always play a role in medical education.
Follow me below the fold for thirteen memories. Sorry, no more pictures on this one; I doubt I would find anything palatable for mass consumption.
Why I do it
Because it feels good?
No. Too simple, and if I stopped there I would have this big fat black-and-white photo and several column inches of open space (what is that called, anyway? A gravestone?)
The generic question is, Why do we blog? Today, Blue Gal wades into a mud pit created by Chris Bowers’ recent comments that the days of the solo pundit blogger are over. (Nyah! Take that, Glenn Greenwald!) BG skewers Bowers’ puffery with typical panache:
“There are artists, there are artists who somehow make a living doing their art (sorry, I can’t imagine John Amato writing that “Chris Bowers knows blog success!” business model bullshit), and there are sell-out wankers who want to color themselves important by channeling some Tony Robbins success seminar. I’m too busy doing my thang, and enjoying the writing and work of some very gifted individual bloggers, to worry about which category the big boys fall into.”
I’m not a big boy. I’ll never be a big boy. Whenever my hit counter makes me a wee bit feverish, I check my referrals to remind myself that 95% of my hits comes from guys searching for a semi-nude Christina Aguilera, cameltoes, or butt cracks. But as I hope you all know, I’m not blogging for those folks.
Lisa Nowak: a medical hypothesis
The television talking heads are trying their best to figure out Lisa Nowak, the diaper-wearing stalker/astronaut, but to my knowledge, no one has suggested the possibility of a medical explanation for her breakdown. The possibilities are endless — tumor, heavy metal intoxication, adverse drug reaction. Lots of things can tweak the mind. But here’s one idea.
This is the “butterfly rash” of systemic lupus erythematosus:
Older photos of Ms. Nowak show no rash:
But recent images of Ms. Nowak, particularly her mug shot, suggest a classic malar “butterfly rash”. Here’s another suggestive photo:
If Ms. Nowak has lupus, it raises the possibility of lupus cerebritis. Among the potential neuropsychiatric manifestations:
Mood disorders such as anxiety and depression are frequently reported.
Cognitive disorders may be variably apparent in patients with SLE. Formal neuropsychiatric testing reveals deficits in 21-67% of patients with SLE. Whether this represents true encephalopathy, neurological damage, medication effects, depression, or some other process is unclear.
Psychosis related to SLE may manifest as paranoia or hallucinations.
All I’m saying is there may be more to this story than a love triangle gone bad. When family, friends, and coworkers react the same way, remarking how vastly out of character her recent behavior has been, you have to entertain the medical hypothesis. News organizations are talking to PSYCHOLOGISTS, for heaven’s sake — no MDs.
Stay tuned.
D.
PS: In other news, The Aristocrats has the inside scoop on how the medical community healed Ted Haggard of his gayness.
Tukhes lecher
As promised yesterday, ten Yiddish curses (from the Yiddish Radio Project):
1. Khasene hobn zol er mit di malekh hamoves tokhter.
He should marry the daughter of the Angel of Death.
And this is bad why?
2. Oyf doktoyrim zol er dos avekgebn.
He should give it all away to doctors.
Indeed. We doctors deserve it.
Keep reading . . .
Move over, Satan!
In a recent AP-AOL poll asking Americans — AMERICANS — to rate our country’s top villains, Dubya whupped all competitors, including Bin Laden, Kim Jong Il, and Satan. Don’t Floss with Tinsel has the video.
Now, hold on, wait a sec . . . the MoE is plus/minus 3%. That means Bush might have had only 22% of the vote, while Bin Laden, his nearest competitor, might have had 11%.
Nope. It’s still a 2:1 wipeout.
But hot damn. I think Dubya has finally found something he’s really, really good at: villainy.
D.
Douche what?
And now, a public service announcement, because gaaaaah it’s late, I’m tired, and my brain has been topic-free all day.
That’s not entirely true. My brain kept feeding me Thursday Thirteen topics: Thirteen Yiddish insults and curses; Another Cosmo Thirteen (oh, this is going to be a good one); Thirteen Memories from Gross Anatomy. BUT IT AIN’T BLOODY THURSDAY, so thanks but no thanks, brain.
Anyway.
Let’s talk about nasal douching.
This is the product I hype to my patients: the NeilMed Sinus Rinse Kit. It’s simple. Combine the packet with the correct amount of water (distilled or filtered, ideally at body temperature), shove the nozzle up your nose, and squeeze. If it squirts out your mouth or your other nostril, you’re doing it right.
The idea — no, really, do I have to explain the benefits of douching? It’s like brushing your teeth, for the love of snot. Atomized saline may be better than nasal douching, but any wimp can put spray up their nose; it takes a REAL mensch to douche his nose. A mensch like Swami Ji:
This fellow uses a Neti pot to douche his nose. In one hole, out the other. If you click on the picture, you’ll learn that nasal douching is an ancient yogic practice — so it has to be good! From the same people who invented enemas (and if I’m not careful, I’ll spend the rest of the evening reading these enema testimonials).
Nothing wrong with Neti pots, but I prefer the forcefulness I can achieve with the NeilMed squeeze bottle. Booosh. I do it in the shower because it can be damned messy. And I only do it when my nose gives me fits; I’m not a habitual doucher.
Yes, I suppose I could call this nasal lavage or nasal irrigation, but then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my patients’ baffled, disbelieving expressions.
He didn’t —
Did he just say . . . ?
My nose?
Yes, Miss. Your nose. What did you think I said?
D.
PS:
Did you mean to search for: Lesbian Bars and Walnuts
Don’t ask.
Pimp yourself. You know you want to.
We bought a Sony eBook reader today. Yes, it’s pricy, and yes, it won’t wipe my virtual butt for me the way an HP iPAQ would, but I like the clean look of the page. And besides, we never use our frequent flier miles, so this seemed as good a use for our miles as any.
Below the fold: Pimp your eBook, guest blog at Balls and Walnuts, and more!
What is the world coming to? *updated*
I don’t know how Blue Gal does it . . . how she tolerates wading through right wing blogs for Grade A tripe like this (emphasis mine):
There is a new chapter in the story of Yale’s continuing descent into the depths of moral degradation. Two days ago, Jonathan Holloway, the master of Calhoun College at Yale, sent out the following note:
“OK, well THIS is the most awkward college-wide e-mail I’ve ever had to send….
“The college showers are to be used by individuals for hygenic [sic] purposes only. They are not to be used by couples engaged in intimate activity–especially that kind of activity that leaves the showers in a decidedly less hygenic [sic] state.
“Several times since the start of the spring term some Hounies have come across a couple having the time of their lives in a shower stall. Last night the shower flooded and the bathroom could not be used for over 90 minutes. To the as yet unidentified couple, this may be pleasureable [sic] and exciting for you but it is a violation of community standards. Please stop.
“I really don’t want to explore this matter any further as I respect your individual privacy. But such continued brazen public displays of affection will only invite public embarrassment. I beg of you, let’s not go there.”
I can first of all confirm that this is a real memo, not a prank. It is not merely unfortunate but pathetic and disgusting that the Master needed to send such a note to us. I certainly wish that Master Holloway had not had to involve himself, but in the moral vacuum that has been created by Yale intellectuals, students seem to be left without even the most basic guidelines for proper and decent behavior.
Where to begin. The author, Dan Gelernter, strikes me as one of those Angry Virgins: I’m not getting any, but that’s okay because SEX OUTSIDE OF MARRIAGE IS EEEEVIL and all those people engaging in intimate congress in the showers are going to burn in H-E-Double-Toothpicks! But that’s an ad hominem argument based on little evidence other than Dan’s tone, his hyperbole (descent into the depths, yata yata), and his uber-fussy paranoia that we not think him capable of spelling errors — hygenic (sic)!
I think it’s fair to ask what sort of person feels the need to post this Puritanical bile-dripping screed. Any sane college student should be pissing his pants over the Administration’s plans for the Middle East. If he wants to vent his moral outrage, he would have ample material in what we as a nation have wrought with respect to Iraq, Guantanamo, Abu Ghraib, extraordinary rendition, the erosion of American civil liberties, the rape of our nation’s wealth, the bastardization of science to serve corporate interests, and so much more.
But no. A couple of students get nasty in the shower and plug it up (Blue Gal’s right. How do you do that? Go through a box of condoms and flush ’em down the drain?) and Dan’s panties are in a wad.
Read the comments to Dan’s post. Lots of lefties are trying to slap some sense into the boy. I doubt it will work, but it’s good fun while it lasts.
UPDATED:
Gotta love this comment from “On higher moral ground,” who leaves his flatulence without any website linkback (so we can’t, you know, show him some love):
Any correlation between the deepening depravity at Yale and the ever increasing 28% Jewish enrollment figures?
People have referred to the Jews as ‘mud people’ for centuries, is there perhaps some truth to this?
As a credit to Dan’s commenters, only one person rose to the bait. Two, if you count me.
D.
PS, aren’t you proud of me? I resisted the urge to title this post, “What is the world cumming to.”
My wife’s ass
Yup, that’s my excuse for the late entry today: my wife’s ass. Specifically, her sacroiliac joints. I finished work early so that I could take her up to Gold Beach, where her doctor stuck long needles into her ass to make her feel better.
So far (*knockingonwood knockingonwood*) so good. Beam good thoughts her way, please.
QUESTION
And yeah I know I asked this before . . . about six or seven months ago. I have a few new readers now, though, and maybe some of y’all have had new life experiences relevant to this question:
What’s a good eBook reader?
The consensus six months ago was (A) the Sony eBook reader is teh bomb, but (B) wait a bit, and the price will come down. Well, it hasn’t. It’s still $350, and as far as I can tell, all it can do is serve as a reader. I’d like something that would also allow me to check my email, do some word processing, and provide me with internet access. Which led me to . . .
The Hewlett-Packard iPAQ Pocket PC, of which there are a jillion different models. The prices are comparable to (or cheaper than) the Sony eBook reader, yet these pocket PCs do so much more. The only problem is the tiny screen. How well do these puppies function as eBook readers?
Bear in mind, please, that I live in a small town. I can’t run down to Fry’s Electronics and look at a bunch of different models. I have to guess what these toys are like based on web info. Are the screens agonizingly tiny, or do you get used to them? Can anyone but a six-inch-tall person learn to type on those eensy weensy keyboards?
I’m eager to hear your thoughts. Dish it!
D.
OMFG! OMFG! Cintra Wilson visits Balls and Walnuts!
Regulars here know how much I lurve author Cintra Wilson. Smart, funny, beautiful: what’s not to love? And you know, she could look like Marty Feldman and I’d still dig her.
But she doesn’t look like Marty Feldman, and that’s cool.
Cooler still, she found this post of mine, A Star-studded Golden Shower, and left a comment:
. . . And imagine my delight to find out SHE’S JOINED OUR RANKS. That’s right, she’s blogging. Here’s a snip from Cintra’s recent rant on Tucker Carlson (entitled TUCKER CARLSON: A BIG GIRL’S BLOUSE OF A SNIVELING PRIGGOT):
There’s more, much more. Like many of my readers, she lurves her some Keith Olbermann (but be warned: there’s a disturbing bare-chested Dana Milbank Photoshop in that post). Listen to Cintra’s Podcast. The only thing better than reading the phrase “Our glorious Peckerwood in Chief” is hearing it spill from Cintra’s carmine lips.
So go, one and all: visit Cintra’s blog; scratch her virtual back; make her toes curl with your witty comments, and let her know she has Walnut to thank for it.
Cintra, I’ve linked you. You’re in your very own category: Major League Crushes.
D.