Janel's Place
Sometimes sparks of genius just have to be typed.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Patellar FIXation
Insomnia. This is a wonderful thing to have on the last potential night of decent sleep before the next onslaught of histological immunological radiological anatomical sleep deprivation. Last night I dreamed I was picking fat off of a horse leg. But it is true, I have neglected my blog, and that will make me sad someday. At some point if I remember where the making of the LOTR DVDs are I will attempt my going-to-sleep plan B.
Today is a day most remembered by my lungs. For reasons not completely understood by myself, I joined the veterinary school hockey team. What this ACTUALLY means is that I strapped on some hockey skates for the second time in my life, and buried within masses of bulky padding for which I became very thankful for, stepped onto the ice to experience all that skating can be without toepicks. Other people played hockey while I flopped around the edges of the rink falling over every time I tried to start, stop, turn, or flip my helmet back so I could see. I gave it a good 10 minutes and then traded them in for figure skates. Problem #1 solved, I can skate. Problem #2, playing hockey. Hockey involves physical exertion. Graduate school does not. Hockey also involves a hockey puck, which needs to be received by and given to other people in white jerseys, all of whom are moving, and none of whom can be seen when a hockey helmet is covering the eyes. When the hockey helmet is not covering the eyes, there are brief flashes of great excitement in chasing the hockey puck, trying to steal the hockey puck, and every once in a fabulous while hitting the hockey puck in some unimportant direction! It was a time of great fun for me, possibly bordering on too much fun as I don't think that you are supposed to sit down for a break and feel like you are floating while your lungs are sucking in your brain. My heart surely dislodged some cheese clots today. I have two weeks to recover.
What else happened in vet school lately... a lot. I haven't even been back to the livestock barn. And I could never eat a llama. I'm having a heck of a time just choking down chicken muscles these days. Muscles really seem like muscles. Highly vascularized hunks of muscle tissue... + nerves... the mental aspect of food already deepening when I don't even know anything about parasites yet. But anyway, I passed a bunch of exams and can remain a vet student for another blessed couple of weeks, somebody accidentally dumped a couple of cups of horse blood onto my bookbag and I got assimilated into the Hill's bookbag groupies, I learned that there is such a thing as a "geep," I invented a new word for a llama's footpad (henceforth it shall be named the ungulate trolopad), and I'm addicted to the veterinary information network. Hours can go by as one becomes hopelessly involved in the sad case of someone's perpetually popping patella problems in a malnourished mini, or a very old horse who has random popping patellas possibly complicated by a rare neurological disease that one must test for over and over again and never be sure if the test is good (last post in April! WHAT HAPPENED????!!!), or maybe evil twisted scientists purposefully popping patellas and then chopping ligaments to see what will happen, or weird reports of people injecting weird things like iodine into popped patellar joints and claiming that it works... surely I must run down to the barn immediately and back Bayley around the barn several hundred times to build her weakening quadraceps so she will never pop her patella, CRAP it is even common in Thoroughbreds! In fact, she has never popped her patella, to my knowledge. I would like to try to pop it. I wonder if I could.
It is so necessary for me to sleep. I think my body mistook hockey for an encounter with bloodthirsty aliens because it seems to be in permanent adrenaline shock. Probably scared the parasympathetic nerve endings all the way back up into my brain where they were then sucked into my lungs. I guess I will move to plan C and take a shower.
(0) comments
Today is a day most remembered by my lungs. For reasons not completely understood by myself, I joined the veterinary school hockey team. What this ACTUALLY means is that I strapped on some hockey skates for the second time in my life, and buried within masses of bulky padding for which I became very thankful for, stepped onto the ice to experience all that skating can be without toepicks. Other people played hockey while I flopped around the edges of the rink falling over every time I tried to start, stop, turn, or flip my helmet back so I could see. I gave it a good 10 minutes and then traded them in for figure skates. Problem #1 solved, I can skate. Problem #2, playing hockey. Hockey involves physical exertion. Graduate school does not. Hockey also involves a hockey puck, which needs to be received by and given to other people in white jerseys, all of whom are moving, and none of whom can be seen when a hockey helmet is covering the eyes. When the hockey helmet is not covering the eyes, there are brief flashes of great excitement in chasing the hockey puck, trying to steal the hockey puck, and every once in a fabulous while hitting the hockey puck in some unimportant direction! It was a time of great fun for me, possibly bordering on too much fun as I don't think that you are supposed to sit down for a break and feel like you are floating while your lungs are sucking in your brain. My heart surely dislodged some cheese clots today. I have two weeks to recover.
What else happened in vet school lately... a lot. I haven't even been back to the livestock barn. And I could never eat a llama. I'm having a heck of a time just choking down chicken muscles these days. Muscles really seem like muscles. Highly vascularized hunks of muscle tissue... + nerves... the mental aspect of food already deepening when I don't even know anything about parasites yet. But anyway, I passed a bunch of exams and can remain a vet student for another blessed couple of weeks, somebody accidentally dumped a couple of cups of horse blood onto my bookbag and I got assimilated into the Hill's bookbag groupies, I learned that there is such a thing as a "geep," I invented a new word for a llama's footpad (henceforth it shall be named the ungulate trolopad), and I'm addicted to the veterinary information network. Hours can go by as one becomes hopelessly involved in the sad case of someone's perpetually popping patella problems in a malnourished mini, or a very old horse who has random popping patellas possibly complicated by a rare neurological disease that one must test for over and over again and never be sure if the test is good (last post in April! WHAT HAPPENED????!!!), or maybe evil twisted scientists purposefully popping patellas and then chopping ligaments to see what will happen, or weird reports of people injecting weird things like iodine into popped patellar joints and claiming that it works... surely I must run down to the barn immediately and back Bayley around the barn several hundred times to build her weakening quadraceps so she will never pop her patella, CRAP it is even common in Thoroughbreds! In fact, she has never popped her patella, to my knowledge. I would like to try to pop it. I wonder if I could.
It is so necessary for me to sleep. I think my body mistook hockey for an encounter with bloodthirsty aliens because it seems to be in permanent adrenaline shock. Probably scared the parasympathetic nerve endings all the way back up into my brain where they were then sucked into my lungs. I guess I will move to plan C and take a shower.
(0) comments
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