Like A Rat Out Of Hell

Monday morning. And another MCQ.

I sat with my exam paper, trying to visualise the number of lobes in the equine liver. This was something I had chosen not to learn, and so at least three of the five possible responses looked correct to me. I then spent some time debating about muscarinic and nicotinic receptors, and then double-checked my other 18 responses. Everything looked reasonable.

Eventually time was up, and I turned my paper in. These assessments are immediately followed by a feedback session that provides the answers, so that you know where abouts your mark will fall. Here we go. Continue reading!

We’re Halfway There

My lecturer spent almost the entire lecture with his arm firmly wedged up the rectum of an invisible horse. He made eye contact with each student as his hand groped around the imaginary intestines, delivering lecture content as he went.

“Normally, you’re going to be able to feel the base of that caecum over on the right hand side. It should be soft, and we shouldn’t be feeling tight taenial bands.”

His waving fingers pointed straight ahead, “There’s going to be small intestine here, no taenial bands. But if there’s a strangulating lesion Continue Reading!

Something to Ruminate Over

It sat in front of me like a giant empty potato sack – completely shapeless, and a uniform shade of boggy brown. My notes said that there would be four chambers: rumen, reticulum, omasum, abomasum. But when I looked between my brightly-coloured diagram and the deflated brown specimen, there was no resemblance whatsoever. And so with the familiar snap of rubber gloves, I began rummaging inside the great sack.

Somebody had made a large incision across the top, which meant I could hold up the edges and peer into the darkness. I really don’t have adjectives to describe the smell, but the internal surface was textured like AstroTurf, and divided into chambers by thick muscular bands. This must be the rumen.

The rumen was slimy and dark and difficult to navigate. I actually paused at one point to appreciate how every decision in my life had led to me groping around inside the preserved stomach of a dead cow. How utterly poetic. Continue Reading!