I’m Not Mature Enough For This

I am not mature enough for science.

Our current block is called “Endocrine, Digestion, and Reproduction,” running twelve weeks long. At five weeks in, I have three more before I disappear into the black hole that is studying for the weeklong test making up the last week of April. If Homeostasis (our previous block) is any judge, I will spend most of Nate’s Birthday Month getting fatter than the Michelin Man from inactivity and Chipotle, pretending to study anatomy until I break down in crocodile tears of frustration, and wearing pajamas to class.

This is not an exaggeration. It happened.

On the plus side, I’ll probably procrastinate by writing more.

The problem with this block is the latter two sections – digestion and reproduction. I am, maturity-wise, still the 13-year-old seventh grade boy at Pyle Middle School (abbreviated PMS, because of course) who thought the highlight of the year was when an enterprising 8th grader dropped a sock full of coins into the toilet and flushed. This event barely nosed out the great “School Security Guard Trips And Faceplants While Chasing A Truant Child Incident” of 2002.

I think poop jokes are hilarious and second only to jokes about genitalia in sheer joy level.

I thus live in fear of laughing out loud in class. I came close today – one of our main anatomy lecturers was presenting about the lining of the GI tract. As a brief science-y background for those of you not in medical school, we’ve learned there are three general categories of tissues in your body: endoderm, mesoderm, and ectoderm. Basically, endoderm is anything that lines the “inside tubes” – your throat, intestines, blood vessels, etc. Mesoderm is all of the “stuff,” mainly – your liver, kidneys, heart, bones. Finally, ectoderm is your skin. Also, inexplicably, your brain. (After 8 months of intense science-y stuff I still do not know why your brain and your skin are the same, but whatever.)

Unfortunately, there is now an entirely new “derm” to know. And it is… the ANODERM. I will give you one guess where it came from and one guess for whether I found this funny.

Yes. Anoderm is the specialized skin that surrounds your butthole. Yes, I found it hilarious. No one seems to have no idea why this ‘derm merits special attention. Actually, the lecturer has been in an interesting mood lately (he mentioned this week that if he could ask God one question, it would be, “Why male nipples?”) so maybe he is making all of this up.

Needless to say I had trouble staying focused. The worst part was as I sat there, fully reverted to 13-year-old I-think-stinkbombs-are-a-great-idea Nate, the lecturer continued with additional details about the anoderm. As he spoke, I attempted to distract myself by messaging a classmate sitting down the row.

Me: I can’t be a doctor. I am not mature enough for this.
Friend: I wouldn’t be able to deliver the news. “I am sorry sir you appear to have a tumor on your anoderm”
Me <as usual, taking it too far>: “You have a tumor located directly in your anus. It is an anodermal tumor.”

Me: “…Your prognosis is sh*tty.”

I crack myself up. Also I am a horrible person. Also this is what everyone talks about when they say doctors lose their empathy and become buttheads.

(Anodermheads?)

Our lecturer went on to describe “fecal boluses” and “fecal concretion,” which of course made me think of cement mixers. Because… yeah, you can figure it out.

What’s worse is that this is just a taste of what’s to come. Still ahead: the rectal exam (I should just be excused so that I don’t cause psychological harm to others), male and female genitalia and associated physical exams, and pregnancy.

Yeah. This is not going to go well. Anoderm. Tee hee.

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5 thoughts on “I’m Not Mature Enough For This

  1. You know who would love this (in addition to ME). Grandpa! He would bust out laughing with “prognosis is shitty.” Tee her, indeed.

    He liked to say that proctologists had long fingers and smoked cigars.

  2. I am not a funny person, but my best friends at med school are so much like you. And having worked with them, I can tell you that they will make great doctors despite their sometimes questionable sense of humour. So don’t worry! Also, your prognosis is sh*tty? I laughed!

  3. Pingback: A Second Look | Laughter is the Best Medicine

  4. Pingback: PANIC! At the ERAS | Laughter is the Best Medicine

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