The problem with ditching lecture...

Sometimes you end up pre-reading a lecture because you figure it was one you missed.

I was reading the lecture on the "Functional Anatomy of the Abdomen" thinking "You know... this is actually a really good lecture. It's a shame I missed it.

Then I note that we have anatomy lecture tomorrow (later today) and think "Review session?"

Functional Anatomy of the Abdomen. That was an hour well-spent. Ah well, at least now I can go to the lecture well prepared.

I'm also discovering that even with awesome instructor dude, it's somewhat useless for me to go to biochem unless I've preread, because otherwise I just sit there with a growing look of horror and consternation on my face until I scuttle back to my room in a panic, read Lippincott and go "oh".

Today, Saint Paparo began the review histo lecture with "I have a dream..." and proceeded to rattle off Very Important Histology Facts which I suspect will have a Very Strong Influence on the Midterm. The suspiciously full class took frantic notes catching all of it, except for the smart people (of which I was not one) who taped it.

There were still some empty seats in the hall, so for those of you who missed that lecture, oh my GOD does it suck to be you!!!

After that came the multitude of practice identification slides. Ruh roh. Then the practice practical (name the slide) in which I discovered that Manlocks and I need to go right back down to the bowels and work our way through and up SLOWLY, including, instead of sneaking PAST the Crypts of Lieberkuhn, we need to go right down in there with those darned vampires and check out the paneth cells for ourselves. Tsk tsk. Manlocks is in luck in that I can readily identify the rectoanal junction, meaning he never has to set foot there again.

And then... more studying!! Histo was supposed to be on the bill, but I got sidetracked by anatomy, which is probably fortunate since that's the exam we have first.

Right at the point my brain was going back to that liquid state (but, I'm getting better at histo in that I'm sure I was able to identify a purkinje cell plopping onto the floor), I decided screw it, go to the gym, and did so, throwing notes and flashcards to the wind and bathing myself in sweet sweet blissful music with an upped intensity to chase the enzyme activity and innervations out of my head.

THEN I was able to study histo to start getting a better grasp on things. It's bad for Manlocks though. Now that he knows the parietal cells secrete hydrochloric acid, he's flipping terrified and won't come out of the Peyer's patches in the ileum to save his life (or sacrifice it). I've tried telling him that if he doesn't come back up to the stomach, the only way out is to go back through the Rectal Shelves of Houston, but I don't think he cares. Sigh. I hate wimpy heroes.