The days draw to an end in the space-time continuum (yeah I picked this word of Wonko's blog where he waxes ad nauseum about continuing on some continuum or the other and gymming at the end of it) as my exams get far too close for comfort. It is in times like these that one resists every temptation to read Revolting Rhymes or The Lord of the Rings or the transcript of the Matrix (all of which, in a moment of weakness, I put onto my ipod to peruse at will while listening to the Supreme Beings of Leisure). Instead, having delved through the oft mentioned textbook of surgery, I decided to do a last minute sprint through the bible of all surgical trainees - Bailey and Love's Short Practice of Surgery. It's not short and I won't tolerate any practice jokes. Will join hands with a lawyer and practice on you.
The book has always been a favourite. Not because it's british and has large illustrations that significantly reduce the amount of text to be read. Not because at the bottom of every page footnotes exist outlining the life and times of the person who lent their names to the many eponymous conditions that often attracts medical students. But simply because it almost feels like reading PG Wodehouse or Stephen Fry ever so often. Examples follow.
What's 'yaws'? - Syphilis.
On pruritus ani - In case of pinworm infestation, children should be made to wear gloves since they may reinfest themselves by scratching and nail-biting. Parasites lost, parasites regained.
Or when the books warns against proclaiming brain death in a patient who's hypothermic - No body should be declared dead unless it's a warm body.
So I'm morbid. Sue me.
For the amount medical students have to read at all points of time in their lives it's a relief and a joy to see a book that makes life just a little more enjoyable.
Of course one has to tolerate lines on the line of, 'So Bailey's your new Love?' But it's a small price to pay.
For those interested in other such moments of joy feel free to refer to Robbin's Pathology (where he speaks of congregating amyloidologists and thyromaniacs and quotes Isak Dinesen's 'What is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning, with infinite artfulness, the red wine of Shiraz into urine?' at the beginning of the chapter on Nephrology. )
Again I reiterate my nerdish claim. And also plead exam-induced insanity but there I know I'm not the only one. Got this message from a colleague at a similar point on the space-time continuum - 'You've been building castles in the air all these years. It's not a bad thing. Now is the time to build foundations under them.'
This incidentally is also the person responsible for putting the idea of forwarding service messages.
