Anatomy class: Connective tissue and bones of the skull

Last night in anatomy lab, we reviewed connective tissue, including bones in general, and specifically, the bones of the skull. We were able to get a real skull, rather than a plastic replica, but the real ones are so fragile that some of the more delicate bones (like the sphenoid) have been broken out. Still, it's a good review for the upcoming quiz; you just cannot study anatomy in 2D in the same way.

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Judgment Day(s)

My last grade is in. I am happy with my grades this quarter. Not that I want to get all pre-med-competitive about it, but I am applying to very competitive programs. So I need to show that I take the pre-requisites seriously, and can do the work. I think I showed that this quarter.

I also was evaluated for practical skills in the hospital. I got "Satisfactory" on everything (on a Pass/Fail scale) except "Provides restorative care to residents" and "Applies critical thinking in clinical situations". My clinical teacher gave everyone in our cohort a grade that means essentially "Not enough information to answer the question", as it is her position that our practicum does not provide the opportunity to do either in the time we have available and under the responsibilities we are required to carry out. (UPDATE) The two specific things she said about me were that I am "eager" to take on new tasks, and that I "tend[s] to get anxious" about unfamiliar situations, a state that she expects will resolve itself with practice and experience. That sounds right; I remember visualizing all kinds of awful things, like accidentally dropping a patient, that never happened. Once I had done it successfully a couple of times, the anxiety disappeared. I got a mail today from a physician friend making the same point, "I had no doubt you will be excellent in your patient interactions. Only you doubt you, Ravensara!". Which means I need to get that experience, and sooner rather than later will be a good thing. So that's all good, too. All that remains now is passing the state certification practical exam.

Not only has this week been one of student evaluations, but the publisher of the textbook I'm writing on massage literacy got a batch of reviewers' comments back to me. Overall, they are very good (a lot of praise, which is nice, and even the not-praise is constructive and on-point), and while massage schools are unlikely to make critical thinking and massage literacy a curriculum requirement anytime soon, it looks like the book has the real potential to make a splash as the basis for an elective course. So I am happy. And sleepy. I worked very hard last quarter, and slept like 18 hours today, catching up.

On the 29th, it begins again, this time organic chemistry and biochemistry survey class, nutrition, and some intro medical classes that I need, not for the content, but housekeeping/bookkeeping/pre-requisites.

Until then, WOO-HOO! SPRING BREAK!

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It is finished.

Spring quarter, that is. Developmental psychology and chemistry are in the bag, and I finished my nursing assistant clinicals on Tuesday. The nursing assistant class held a potluck today to celebrate.






Since it's a state school, and has a number of restrictions on alcohol on the premises, I brought sparkling cider to raise a toast to our teachers, ourselves, and our support systems of family and friends.

I also brought special cups for the toast.




Overheard: "Claaaaaassy" and "This is so wrong!"

I think I'm going to make this my very own tradition as I go through nursing school; I started doing it when I got into grad school in the School of Medicine, and it's just so me, I think.

Here's a serving tip if you want to do the same thing--leave the cups in their intact sterile wrappers until you're actually pouring the drink, and let the guests remove the sterile wrapper for themselves. It seems to go over much better that way.

Ten more days, and then it begins again with organic chemistry/biochemistry and nutrition...

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Old school

Ok, I know this has a real risk of coming across as a "you kids get off of my lawn" post, but still...

At 51, I'm returning to school for nursing-school prerequisites as different as chemistry, developmental psychology, statistics, and nutrition. Today in chemistry, we learned the theoretical basis of pH, and the instructor started off by introducing the concept of logarithms. Yes, introducing.

For all my complaints about high school, I have to say they gave me a good pre-calculus grounding. Logarithms, trigonometry, Boolean algebra--all these things I take for granted, until I run into college students taking classes with me who haven't been exposed to them. And I mean pre-professional students to whom these are new concepts.

Thank you, Huffman High School, and Gary Harper of the math team. I really appreciate the foundation in mathematics you saw to it that I took away with me.

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You win, Granny!

(Background: it is well-known in certain circles that, of the two of us, Mr thalarctos is the domesticated one, while I am totally feral [h/t George]).

While I believe there is no afterlife, I'm certainly prepared to admit there is a possibility that I am wrong, and such a thing, however unlikely, could conceivably exist.

Should there be such a thing, and should my mother's mother be able to see me now, she is, no doubt, laughing her ass off at the rebellious 8-year-old who refused to learn to make a bed properly, and insisted that, when she grew up, she'd never make another bed in her life.

On the other hand, I'm making so many beds nowadays that my mitred corners have become something to absolutely die for (not literally, no!).



(Image from: http://whohastimeforthis.blogspot.com/2007/12/hospital-corners.html)

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Paying it forward

When I stepped out of the elevator onto the ward, suddenly it was 2002 again. All the sights, the sounds, the smells were just as I remembered them.

That year, I went to the doctor complaining of severe abdominal pain. She sent me to the ER, and the next thing I knew, I was hospitalized for what turned out to be a skosh over a month. The blood clot that took out three feet of my small intestine (and that is usually diagnosed "on autopsy", as my surgeon explained), followed by immobility-related fluid developing around my left lung, kept me there so long that I literally burst into tears when Mr thalarctos wheeled me out into the natural light on the way to the car to go home.

Now, almost 7 years later, I'm back on what may be the same ward (post-hospital-remodel and lots of pain-killing drugs, I'm kind of vague about logistics). Also, I have a memory of my instructor actually being my nurse at the time, but that may well be confabulated, given the way that memory operates and my confusion around that time.

If I can show the current patients even a fraction of the kindness, support, and competent care that the staff showed me over that month in 2002, then I will have taken a small step to repaying some of my karmic debt.

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Folie à trois

To say the least, it's not often that I cry in school, but today was one time.

I've returned to school as a pre-nursing student, which means I'm working on pre-requisites, and will apply to nursing school when I'm done with them. One of the pre-requisites is certification as a nursing assistant (CNA or NA-C), one of my current classes along with chemistry and developmental psychology.

Today's class was the required Washington state training in HIV/AIDS, the 4-hour version of which I've actually taught in massage school. This was the 7-hour version that CNAs are required to take. One part of the class was watching the video And the Band Played On, based on the book by Randy Shilts.

By the end of the film, I was crying. I think people who didn't live through the 80s just don't remember all the things the film evoked, but some of my friends lived and died during that time, and I have some memory of it. While the film was far from perfect, it was certainly faithful, and it was two hours well-spent.

As the video ended, and the lights came back on, I remarked to another student at my table that it was funny to go from Ian McKellen as Bill Kraus in the morning to Dumbledore in Harry Potter this evening, and she agreed. Mr thalarctos also agreed when I made the same observation to him when we met up later this afternoon.

Except it simply isn't true! Ian McKellen was offered the role of Dumbledore, but turned it down as too similar to Gandalf; perhaps he was afraid of getting stereotyped. Yet all three of us remembered him as Dumbledore--too funny!

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