Med school tales Act II

When we last left our gyro he was languishing in Guadalajara, which incidentally would have been a great place to spend a vacation. So far as I know, Vietnam has never acquired that status, so I still considered myself most strangely blessed to be in a place where I could go in my spare time to a Bach organ concert in the local cathedral. Schweitzer never had it so good, but I digress.

I settled in finally into a little "loft" which was in the backyard of an anesthesiologist and which he kindly rented to me, complete with maid service. He was from the "other" universidad but don't ask me how I found this place. It was ideal for someone who needed a lot of privacy; and I started learning recorder and writing poems about my new environment. When I look back it was really an exciting time and place, but I seldom looked at it that way. I was more concerned about getting back with my girlfriend, who was really the only one I was close to at the time. In my "adventures" I have had the tendency to move around a lot and not get much involved in non-romantic friendships.

(This kind of nomadic detachment is fabled in song and story--"So long its been good ta know ya/but I gotta keep movin' along" --gee thanks Woody that's such grate ad vice-- but I have always felt it to be more of a character defect, particularly when looking back. It's a Zen thang. Apparently.)

It was good for me to tour the large university hospital where my landlord took me for a day, to see some actual surgery which I had never experienced before. I might have shared with him that earlier in my tour, in a physiology class, I had my first experience with vasovagal syncope, i.e.,fainting. A group of four of us were dissecting a turtle and I was just holding the leg--problem:this was a live turtle and no anesthesia. I felt like a curtain was going down over my eyes, not really dizzy; and the next thing I knew I was in another room with the teacher and many students around me, and my glasses all bent and twisted. Since I now knew the warning sign, I haven't fainted since, but come darn close.

When I was at my host's OR, I was able to come and go as I pleased as long as I didn't touch anything--which I was anything but eager to do,of course! I first looked in on an orthopedic case, and hooks were being inserted everywhere and muscle tissue was being flayed into the air. I lasted only a few minutes then ran back to the dressing room and put my head between my knees. This does work, by the way. I went gack no I mean back to the OR into what I thought would be a gentler scene, which was eye surgery. I went a little longer this time, but considering the fact that I over-react whenever anybody even comes close to my eyes, I'm surprised I was able to stay as long as I did. But the curtain did start to go down on Act II so I fled for a second time for the dressing room of the stars. But by the end of the day I was able to stay through most of an open heart case and even respond to some teasing from the surgeon who seemed quite amused to have me there. (I wonder if he saw me with my head between my knees earlier)

I learned a lot about desensitization that day--and that one day was literally sufficient for the rest of my career. I now understand that people can get used to almost anything, no matter how viscerally unnatural, and can do so in less than 24 hours!!! I had been told earlier that I was much too squeamish to be in medicine, and by my previous lights I was very much afraid they would be right and I would have to seek a career in public health or psych. But after this, I didn't bother to put my squeamishness into my calculations.

So when diabetics tell me that they can't change their diet, which they usually don't, I do for the record sometimes tell this story. I have always figured that if people can stick burning leaves in their mugs or enjoy rotgut whiskey, people can get used to almost anything;any food,any environment or any people group. One of my current reading projects is Dostoyevski's "House of the Dead" which portrays his own prison experiences in Siberia, which so far is really about all the clever ways people do more than just tolerate a dank environment, but learn quickly to profit by it. But there has to be some fair amount of desire and purpose, even just the raw will towards survival will do: but if these simple teleological elements are lacking people perish in even the best of situations, complaining all the while that life is not fair.

to be cont.