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I now am deep into my pathology elective, which I have looked forward to ever since my first clinical encounter with a patient. My thoughts follow in outline form.
I. No Patients
a. There really are no patients. They weren't kidding. I mean, the pathologists will refer to autopsy specimens as "patients" in a euphemistic, P.C. sort of way, but personally I think the removal of your brain precludes you from being labelled a "patient."
(i. Autopsies, btw, are the coolest f-ing thing I've been a part of since I started medical school, and if medical examiners didn't make approximately the same salary as Wal-Mart greeters, I'd have found my life's passion.)
b. The fact that there are no patients gives me a kind of joy that previously was reserved for fornication and well-prepared steaks.
II. The Phenomenon of Inexplicable Excitement
a. Pathologists get excited about things that I cannot imagine myself ever getting excited about. "HOLY MOTHERF'ER, everybody get in here! Everybody come look at this!" Twelve pathology residents sprint into the room and plaster their eyeballs against a multi-headed microscope. "OMG, do you see that? Do you see that? That's a TINKERMYER CELL. It's like a plasma cell but not quite because it's got a little orange speck in it! Holy jesus!" The first few times this happened, I thought they were joking, but they aren't.
b. Okay, so I get it, Tinkermyer Cells and Woozlebonkle Complexes and Trout Bodies are rare or something. It's also rare to see an episode of "Welcome Back Kotter" in the afternoons on TBS, but if it happens I'm not going to give a sh1t about it. Maybe I just don't know enough about pathology to realize how rare and special and amazing these slightly off-shape cells are.
III. The Myth of No Rounds
a. I have heard three pathology residents say that one reason they went into pathology was because they hated rounding.
b. I think this is absurd.
c. Because:
d. What the hell is sign-out, if not rounds? Except that you get to do it sitting down? A resident presents a case, gives some clinical history, everybody takes a look, attendings wax on philosophically about differentials with increasingly subtle findings, some pimping occurs, a tentative conclusion is arrived upon, and you move on to the next case. In what fundamental sense is this different from rounding, except that it lasts substantially longer than any rounds I've ever been a part of, except possibly neurology?
IV. Cytology Is 50% Imagination and 50% Utter Fabrication
a. I have absolutely no choice but to believe this.
b. Previously, I thought that radiologists were the masters of medical B.S. ("This lucency here, see that... squint a little, see it? That's an ectopic kidney.")
c. Radiologists have nothing on cytologists. ("See how these cells here are plump? Plump and dusky and fluffy? That's an ectopic kidney.")
d. BTW, why must everything in medicine be given utterly non-descriptive terms? Nothing in medicine ever looks, feels or sounds like it is described. The hippocampus looks like a seahorse? To who? Somebody on mescaline? "Ground-glass" patterns? "Woody" edema? "Nutmeg" liver? None of these make any sense.
V. The Myth of Cushy Hours
a. I don't think I've yet seen a resident leave that place before 6 PM.
b. WTF.
Anyway, I definitely haven't fallen in love with pathology, but I can usually muster up a mild sense of interest at least a couple of times a day, which I suppose is more than I've been able to say about most things I've done in medical school.
I. No Patients
a. There really are no patients. They weren't kidding. I mean, the pathologists will refer to autopsy specimens as "patients" in a euphemistic, P.C. sort of way, but personally I think the removal of your brain precludes you from being labelled a "patient."
(i. Autopsies, btw, are the coolest f-ing thing I've been a part of since I started medical school, and if medical examiners didn't make approximately the same salary as Wal-Mart greeters, I'd have found my life's passion.)
b. The fact that there are no patients gives me a kind of joy that previously was reserved for fornication and well-prepared steaks.
II. The Phenomenon of Inexplicable Excitement
a. Pathologists get excited about things that I cannot imagine myself ever getting excited about. "HOLY MOTHERF'ER, everybody get in here! Everybody come look at this!" Twelve pathology residents sprint into the room and plaster their eyeballs against a multi-headed microscope. "OMG, do you see that? Do you see that? That's a TINKERMYER CELL. It's like a plasma cell but not quite because it's got a little orange speck in it! Holy jesus!" The first few times this happened, I thought they were joking, but they aren't.
b. Okay, so I get it, Tinkermyer Cells and Woozlebonkle Complexes and Trout Bodies are rare or something. It's also rare to see an episode of "Welcome Back Kotter" in the afternoons on TBS, but if it happens I'm not going to give a sh1t about it. Maybe I just don't know enough about pathology to realize how rare and special and amazing these slightly off-shape cells are.
III. The Myth of No Rounds
a. I have heard three pathology residents say that one reason they went into pathology was because they hated rounding.
b. I think this is absurd.
c. Because:
d. What the hell is sign-out, if not rounds? Except that you get to do it sitting down? A resident presents a case, gives some clinical history, everybody takes a look, attendings wax on philosophically about differentials with increasingly subtle findings, some pimping occurs, a tentative conclusion is arrived upon, and you move on to the next case. In what fundamental sense is this different from rounding, except that it lasts substantially longer than any rounds I've ever been a part of, except possibly neurology?
IV. Cytology Is 50% Imagination and 50% Utter Fabrication
a. I have absolutely no choice but to believe this.
b. Previously, I thought that radiologists were the masters of medical B.S. ("This lucency here, see that... squint a little, see it? That's an ectopic kidney.")
c. Radiologists have nothing on cytologists. ("See how these cells here are plump? Plump and dusky and fluffy? That's an ectopic kidney.")
d. BTW, why must everything in medicine be given utterly non-descriptive terms? Nothing in medicine ever looks, feels or sounds like it is described. The hippocampus looks like a seahorse? To who? Somebody on mescaline? "Ground-glass" patterns? "Woody" edema? "Nutmeg" liver? None of these make any sense.
V. The Myth of Cushy Hours
a. I don't think I've yet seen a resident leave that place before 6 PM.
b. WTF.
Anyway, I definitely haven't fallen in love with pathology, but I can usually muster up a mild sense of interest at least a couple of times a day, which I suppose is more than I've been able to say about most things I've done in medical school.