Two

Two. Rhymes with boohoo. Two weeks before I bid goodbye to classes. I am too busy with the stupid practical record to care.

We went to Kodaikanal, Mysore and Coorg in our third year. That was when The A tried to drown herself in the Cauvery. Third year, that was so much fun. The honeymoon of our undergraduate life. You guys take a look at the picture while I reminisce.

Everybody who goes to Mysore goes to this place, and gets their pictures taken with the monks. We got the monks to take our picture. There we are, squinting at the sun.

Mysore zoo was where I had a crow do its thing on the tip of my finger. The exact tip. Of my finger. That I'd just lifted to point out an ape. Shitty timing, the crow had.


We all agreed that African elephants are larger, and have bigger tusks, and that's all very well, but Indian elephants are smarter and more beautiful.


A friend had a weird encounter at a market in Mysore. One of the vendors recognised him as a Mallu (do we wear a sign on our foreheads? How do they know?) and wanted to know if Mallu men were generally, get this, gay! Where do people get such notions from? How can we have a population problem if our men are gay? Maybe that is the answer to our troubles.

Here is a picture of the Cauvery.


See how I cleverly left out the river in the picture? I am amazing. In reality, this is some place called Nisargadhama, which boasts of many kinds of entertainment for tourists, including a toilet that smells of fresh flowers. And old urine.

We had so much fun (this is getting boring, innit?). I will not bore you with the details of the one other trip I went on, you can read it here if you feel so inclined. It's got lots of pictures and less of my writing, so that is one point in favour all of you clicking here and leaving me to my tragic life.

Three

Let us not dwell on the mere three weeks for which I am still a medico. That path eventually leads to Prozac.

This week's picture features a bunch of Verry Spechul Peeples. (And my friends. And I. But this is not about us.) Peeples who have known me for a long time, and still like me as much as they did before. OK, they are probably not right in the head, but, they are Veryy Spechul, like I said. Behold!


I know it's not very clear. (Why are you surprised?) Do you have any idea how long it took me to make it that way?*

When we first entered the clinics, we were bewildered by the sight of the wards. Patients on the beds, on the floor between the beds, under the beds, in the corridors, everywhere. We had no idea what to do with our shiny new Littmanns and tendon hammers. And then we saw a bunch of harassed looking house surgeons. And the rest, as the cliché goes, is history.

It has been three years now. Some of them are married, all of them are doing their post graduation, some are not even in the country. But things are still the same between us. We still talk about 'our house surgeons' to anyone who will listen, and there aren't many who haven't heard about them yet.

I know this post does not make much sense. I am a final year medical student, you know, even though I don't act like it. Here is an actual incident to prove it.
Professor (during rounds): Do you remember this patient with pleural effusion?
Medico: No, sir. But I remember his X-ray film.
I did not make that up. Honest. And also, the medico in question was not me. I had completely forgotten what his X-ray film looked like.

* Two minutes, in case you are still wondering.

Four

My review in Internal Medicine began this week. The last posting of my undergraduate life. And I get to spend it tearing my hair out because I have to complete my practical record. I think I am going to cry.

Wait, don't go. You do not want to see this week's picture?


Yet another high resolution image, proving how much fun I had at college. That is how we (my friends and I) decorated a blackboard before the arm wrestling match for our first batch social. As soon as we had finished the masterpiece, we held a practice session between ourselves.

The results of the practice session.

Champion: The A.
Winner's comments: Hahaha, my hand hurts. I hope it isn't going to be rheumatoid arthritis, or something. Ah, who cares? I WON! Hahaha.

First runner up: Twin.
Comments: I would like to thank my parents, my sister, and God for believing in me. Without them, this would just not have been possible. And lastly, I would like to thank my dog, for being so supportive. *sniff* You know, my wrist kinda hurts. Could it be CTS?

Second runner-up: The R.
Comments: Ow, A, did you have to push so hard? My forearm hurts. This is probably compartment syndrome, you brainless...COW!
(The A's reply: Nyah-nyah-nyah. Who is a 'sore' loser? Nyah-nyah-nyah.)

Chump of the day: Me.
Comments: My pectoralis major is on fire!
(The Cruel Others: HAHAHA! The pain went staright to her pec major! She has no muscles in her arm! HAHAHA! HAHAHA!
Me: Major Peccy, don't die!)

That's all for this week, folks. Sorry this is up so late. The net was down for a couple of days. I had MAJOR withdrawal symptoms, I tell you.

Five

Yes, it's a countdown to the number of weeks I have left in college. Completely depressing.

The picture this week is taken from outside our Department of Community Medicine. Yes, that is what the SPM people call themselves now.


That is our college garden. The tree in the foreground obstructs the view of Hippocrates sitting on his dog. One of the best things about our college is that we have lots of trees, and a good many of them are older than our parents.

More pictures next time.