It's time

I am finding it increasingly alarming that the prospect of the election on May 3rd is actually getting me quite excited. Perhaps this is because I have been (used/forced/brainwashed) into being a Liberal Democrat activist since the age of 5. By activist, I mean I deliver leaflets to Colchester Drive and Manchester Drive.

I remember from some point in the early 1990s, being visciously attacked by a dog whilst delivering one of the aforementioned leaflets (when I say attacked, I don't mean in the literal biting off my hand way, more a verbal attack... you know, barking). I remember this not only for the deep emotional trauma it caused, but because the owner of the dog gave me a Kit Kat because of said traumatic experience. A kind, considerate dog owner: a contradiction in terms, I previously thought.

So my election thoughts are this:

Good: Liberal Democrats, Greens
Alright: Scottish National Party, Solidarity
Bad: Labour, Tories
Annoying, homophobic Christians: Christian Peoples Alliance, Scottish Christian Party
Fascist Cunts: BNP

Carry on Doctor

Another day, another ridiculous moment.

This time, I was at a GP practice doing 'Gastrointestinal and Renal Clinical Practice' - essentially this is where we get to meet real patients and question and poke them to our hearts content. The first patient was a 71 year old lady, who had one of her kidneys out.

So far, so good.

I was the first to examine the patient, and started with: gentle palpation (gentle poking) and deep palpation ('try to hurt them' poking). These passed off without incident. The notable part was 'balloting the kidney', which is essentially where you put one hand on the patient's back and one on the front and try to squeeze the patients side so that you can feel the kidney. This has the be done with the patient lying flat on the bed (on top of your hand) but our patient was leaning over to the side - naturally I thought I would say 'Could I get you to lie on top of my hand, please?'. Instead I came up with: 'Could I get you to lie on top of me, please?'

There are some days I question whether getting up in the morning was the right move.

Foetor Hepaticus

I've now discovered my new favourite symptom: foetor hepaticus. It was described as 'the breath smelling of a freshly opened corpse' and is associated with liver disease.

Yet I have no desire to stop drinking. Weird.

Medical super geek

Today was spent in the library, and I discovered the definition of 'medical super geek': (n) 1. someone who arrives at the library before it has opened 2. Andrew

Having waited outside for 15 minutes, I made it to a prime spot on the 11th floor. Essentially the only notable things that happened were:

• In the lift, someone said 'You know, if I didn't have this exam tomorrow I'd be sailing... like a bird'. One can only hope that its not a zoology exam.
• I had the most exotic sandwich I have purchased from a vending machine that was 'Tofu with Thai spices and Chinese lettuce'... which tasted, bizarrely, of nothing.
• I noticed (after lunch, and having been in the library for over 4 hours) that my hoodie had a large, very noticeable jam stain on the front.

There are days when I confound even myself.

Words of wisdom

"Do you want to know how to kill Batman? Shoot him in the face"

Rectals (for dummies)

Days at uni are always far more interesting when we get shown how to do all number of exiciting clinical examinations (blood pressure is simply fascinating, and words cannot describe the joy of musculoskeletal examinations), however the prospect of a rectal examination was pretty amusing.

We actually practice on a mannequin that is basically the pelvis (minus the buttocks). FYI the process of rectals are:

• introduce yourself, and explain procedure to a mannequin (you get extra points for coming up with the most ridiculous euphemism to explain a 'insert my finger into your rectum')
• put on gloves (this is a pretty vital step)
• position patient lying on left side and knees bent (quite easy to do when all you have is a pelvis in front of you)
• spread the buttocks (that is actually the phrase that is used)
• inspect the anal region (and comment on it!)
• lube up your index finger and tell the mannequin to 'strain'... quite hard for a plastic pelvis to do.
• insert said finger and feel the left lateral, right lateral and posterior wall of the rectum
• feel for the prostate (whilst saying 'You may feel you want to pass urine... don't worry, you won't')
• remove finger and comment on any stool, mucus or blood on the glove.
• wipe the perianal area
• put gloves into a clinical waste bin
• Thank the patient...
• WASH YOUR HANDS

You'd think that watching people speaking to a plastic pelvis and then examining a fake rectum would not be as funny the 9th time... apparently not.

Sigh. I really wonder at what I've got myself into with this whole medicine milarky.

Milk emergency

Today was supposed to be the *official* start of the hardcore, no fun, insane, crazy hours, soul destroying studying that will last approximately until the 14th June. Sadly this was scrapped on account of the library being too cold.

The only highlight of my day happened in the library at about 9am: the library alarm to prevent people from pilfering the books (as it is a reference library only... or a 'Study Landscape' if you will) kept on going off - it's a recording of the security guard's voice saying 'Please return your books to the desk, please... Please return your books to the desk, please'. Disarmingly polite. Only this time the actual real life security guard actually came running over because someone had brought a book that they had stolen the day before. This amused me as why would you need to steal a book from a library that is open 24 hours a day? And why, and this is what gets me most, would you bring it back... during the day... when the security guard is actually there?

I had to cope with the cringeworthly, awful conversation between said stupid student and security guard:

Security guard: 'Can I see in your bag? That's a book from the
library'

Ridiculous student: 'It's not mine'

Security guard: 'It's in your bag'

Ridiculous student: 'It's not mine'

Security guard: 'But its in your bag'

Ridiculous student: [awkward silence]

It was awfully, stupidly amusing. THEN I noticed that there was a van on the road outside that said 'Graham's Milk' on the side, and it had a yellow, flashing light on top. I had visions of it speeding down the road, sirens blaring, answering the call to some kind of milk emergency.

As you can see, my descent into mental illness is becoming ever more rapid.

Mmm bop

Saturday was such a ridiculously sunny and warm day (and I fear probably the best day of the year) that we decided to take full advantage of the summery weather. We achieved this thus:

• Sat in Kelvingrove Park, had a picnic (from Subway and Greggs) and ate ice-cream. I managed to get insanely sun burnt down one arm and the opposite leg... not quite sure how that happened. We decided to leave when the fannies with the 'Throw it and it makes a lot of noise' decided to start throwing it over us and everyone else sitting on the hill. I was hoping for some kind of horrific injury/dog attack to befall them. Sadly not.
• We then had a barbeque at chez moi, where the menu consisted of homemade burgers and BBQ chicken (cooked in the George Foreman... you know, to avoid death by raw barbequed chicken). Sadly, my father had taken it upon himself that day to varnish everything in the garden, so we were running the risk of varnish on our clothes/being engulfed in a ball of fire.
• Carrie and I then partied it on down at Driftwood and the Garage. It was surprisingly good: surprising because it was a. town b. a Saturday night and c. rubbish people from the year above us at Cleveden were there. We remedied this by drinking a. Corona b. Fosters and c. Sambuca.

Today has been a mix of good and bad. Bad: I started to study, and then looked at my timetable and despaired at the amount of work I still have to do (although I have a fantastic week to look forwards to that consists of: large bowel dissection, diarrhoeal disease lab and obesity). Good: I went to see Hanson at the Carling Academy as they rocked out their classics such as, em, Penny and Me? I have already seen Hanson once previously and missed Mmm Bop on account of an epileptic, I was GUTTED. Thankfully, there were no seizures/fits/falls/fractures/projectile vomiting during it this time and I can now cross another of the 1000 things to do before I die off the list.

Stomach churning

Whilst the predicted vomit (see below) did not occur, I still managed to get so very little done today in terms of work.

My day didn't start well: having woken up a good 20 minutes late, I had to run half of the way to uni. Normally lateness (or tardiness as I think I shall start calling it) does not bother me, however on a Thursday morning we have a tutor who is: a. German and efficient (much like an Audi) b. Feels lateness is inefficient and rude and c. Hits people for said inefficiency and rudeness. I actually made it 5 minutes early...

Bizzarely (having fretted about the digestion of expired milk) my lab today consisted of digesting milk in a test tube à la your stomach into something that resembles beer and Baileys.

Oh, and we also cut someones stomach open. Good times.

Oh dear.

I've just discovered I've been drinking out-of-date milk.

One feels this does not bode well for my 'Getting lots of work done' day tomorrow.

Em... not so much

The first week back at uni has been met with my usual lack of enthusiasm. Without fail, the first days back are the WORST of the term... I think it is a combo of:

• early morning starts
• 3 hour labs that involve microscopes
• lectures that involve repeated use of the euphemism 'tailpipe' when talking about enemas
• the library is insanely busy with highly productive/people who sigh in an amusingly loud way
• being old

Also I am being distracted by both The Apprentice and Desperate Housewives.

I have established a plan to counter this: I have bought The Anatomy Coloring Book and The Physiology Coloring Book, so as I might still fail... but MAN ALIVE I will have some kick ass diagrams.

The dream is over

10th April 2007:

• the day the music died
• the end of an era
• the demise of my teenage years

I'm now 20. I also went back to uni today, for a extra depressing double whamey. Also (along the theme of 'Time passing at an alarming rate') it has been 4 years since we went to the Carling Academy to see The White Stripes on my 16th birthday. SIGH.

On the plus side, I now know how to make a 'Corona Slush Puppy':

• put a Corona into the freezer for about 2 hours until it is really cold
• add some lime juice

3 days to go

My day was ridiculously uneventfully boring. The exciting parts were:

• somehow burning the side of my mouth with a toastie
• going to Morrisons and walking around aimlessly looking for an assortment of vegetables, cheeses and flour
• cleaning my house like there is no tomorrow

SIGH.

Changing Rooms

In a blatant attempt to avoid studying, I rearranged my room today:

When I say rearrange, what I really mean is moving every large piece of furniture I have from one side of my room to the opposite. In the process I think I have done permenant damage to my arms/spine, whilst my room (although in a different order) is still one helluva mess. SIGH.

Twenty and counting and Ayr shenanigans

On Tuesday evening, there was some muscles on the side of my head that were painful and throbbing because I had been laughing so much. It was done to the fact that I had been at Sheona's 20th birthday (no laughing matter I hear you cry).

We went to Nude for some cocktail action, FYI Bloody Mary's are pretty darn good... like spicy tomato soup, only cold, and with vodka. I managed to look a little stupid ordering it:

Bartender: 'How spicy would you like your Bloody Mary?'
Andrew: Pause 'Em, quite spicy?'
Bartender: Unimpressed look

The reason that the night was a night of comedy gold was largely thanks to someone (who shall remain nameless, suffice to say his name rhymes with Filal).

*In Nude he conducted conversations such as 'How's uni?' by shouting across groups of people
*He worked his 'magical hands' which seemed very adept at poking people to the point where they'd actually shout at him
*Claire used the phrase 'full scale molestation'
*In Campus he danced with a girl... whose boyfriend was standing right next to her.
*Two girls were actually hitting him to get him away
*Note the poor quality video of him above 'Jumping for love' and then attacking me

I never thought that a night in Campus could be such an insane amount of fun but: Sheona's birthday + Campus + incrediably drunken people + vodka clush puppies = ACE fun

Needless to say, I suffered for this the next day when I was travelling down to Ayr... on the 10:30 train. Little did I suspect that said train was CRAMMED full of screaming children and families: half of whom were travelling to Ayr to go the beach and the other half to Prestwick to go on to Shagaluf or wherever.

I coped with this, and made it to Ayr safely which was awesome as my day consisted of ice cream and the beach.

On the train home there was a large crowd of unattractive, fat emo kids who were playing volleyball. On the train. All the way back to Glasgow.

Good times.

God hates Sweden

God Hates Sweden/fags/you

Fact.

The only people God seems to like tend to be horrendously unattractive.

Fact.

Saturday night: Fat Boab's style

I still maintain that nothing beats a night in Fat Boab's. The following, I feel, proves this:

• Old people doing really godawfully bad karaoke (as I write this I realised - is there such a thing as good karaoke?)
• A drunken old man (Tam, FYI) who spent all night talking to us. He passed on the really helpful advice that I should 'stick with Carrie' and 'Throw Mhairi to the kerb'.
• An old woman who tried to get, first, Mhairi and then me to dance. She ended up dancing on the table instead.
• A man who appeared to be washing his hair in the toilets
• The adjacent fast food shop that charged £1.20 for cheese and sold vegetable pakora that possibly caused some kind of food poisoning.
• The fact the phrase 'I have John's sperm on my shoes' was used