So today I overheard a student asking the teacher about a muscle behind the knee. She (the teacher) said it was anconeus. I said I thought it was popliteus, which looks almost exactly like anconeus, but anconeus is at the elbow. So she looked it up. And I was right, and she said so. And the class said, “Of course she’s right!” Like the poor teacher just didn’t yet realize that I knew everything. Well, now she does. She very humbly said she would ask me any time she needed to know what a muscle was. And the class was like, “Yeah, that’s what we do, too.”
Sometimes I wonder how I got here.
We also got to listen to some gruesome stories, like a diabetic patient who got a cat scratch. It scabbed over, so she thought it was healing, but she kept having calf pain. By the time she went to the doctors, the hidden infection had destroyed muscle right to the bone, up and down her leg. They patched her up, but she still had a chunk of her leg missing due to an infection she didn’t know she had.
Also about blisters that are infected on the inside, and eat you away to the bone.
Also about working with pediatric burn patients, and how you have to work at stretching out their scar tissue so they can heal (functionally), except that it’s super painful, so that even though they’re drugged up on morphine they scream and scream in pain while you work on them.
And grade 4 pressure sores, which means down to the bone, that can develop if a patient is not repositioned for merely ONE SHIFT. A grade 2 pressure sore—a blister—can take about 2 hours. It left me amazed that Grandpa didn’t have more problems with pressure sores.
We are all nervous about our practical exams, because they’re pass/fail. . . and you have to nail almost everything, exactly, in order to pass. It’s just—-stressful.