Physiology is one subject that emphasises validation of theory by experimental proof. Now, I’m all for scientific experiments; until they result in bodily damage, that is. Somehow, the haematology lab simply doesn’t agree with my point of view. We must’ve done atleast fifteen experiments in haematology in 1st MBBS, most of which required us to use our own blood. The often repeated mantra is “Fresh blood is the best blood!” or something to that effect. Makes you wonder where the Physio department plans their vacations … I hear
“Anyway, the procedure is simple,” offered one of our professors during the initial lab classes.
“You’re supposed to take a sterile lancet and make a stab wound on one of your fingers, deep enough to draw half a pipette of blood atleast.”
Did someone say stab?? Could they make it sound any less inviting? Why would I want to stab myself? Why would anybody???
After five minutes of vociferous and completely pointless arguing with myself, I looked at my table mates. One of them had stabbed himself so hard there was blood all over the table and he needed a compress to stop the flow. Most of the others were looking at him in macabre fascination. Talk about a perfect example of what-not-to-do.
Ok, time to clear my head. I had to focus. I picked up the lancet and held a finger out. Raising it as high as I dared, I brought the lancet down hard. Just inches above my finger though, the lancet slowed suddenly and I barely managed to prick it.
Super. Time for round 2.This time I figured the closer the lancet was to my finger, the greater an impact it would have. So I held the lancet just above my finger and stabbed it. This time I felt the pain, but I still wasn’t drawing blood.
Why on earth was I being such a chicken?
Before I could get third-time lucky, the lab attendant passed by me to watch my next attempt, and before I could raise the lancet, he yelled, “what are you doing? Which finger are you using? You know you could perforate your tendon! You want to paralyse that muscle? Use only the middle or ring finger… don’t you students listen anymore?”
Ah. Not only was I unsuccessful in my attempt, I was also apparently deaf and about to cause permanent damage to myself. Brilliant. Sensing my embarrassment, the attendant offered to prick my finger for me. Without even the hint of an argument I consented. Forget about pride in one self’s achievements. I just wanted to get through the class without killing myself.
I’d like to pretend that I risked life and limb to maintain consciousness as the evil man withdrew unwarranted volumes of my blood, but that would be a lie. He was quick, calm and efficient, and I barely felt a thing. Let’s face it, he’s been doing this since before I was born. My only regret is that I closed my eyes the first time, and as a result forgot to watch him – to this day I’m still quite incapable of pricking myself effectively…
0 comments:
Post a Comment