Loyola University Stritch School of Medicine - Caduceus Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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Opening 4 History of Stritch 8 People of Loyola 14 Where We Learned 20 The First Year 23 The Second Year 31 The Third Year 41 The Fourth Year 49 Casino Night 58 Boxer Shorts 64 Clubs! Intramurals 68 Match Day '70 Senior Portraits 75 Personal Pages 87 Stritching the Truth 144

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This is not the end. or, is it even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. . .U Winston Churchill by Joseph Hildner We all had expectations. Plenty of them. It would have been impossible to arrive at medical school without at least some amount of wonder- ing what we were in for, imagining what it would be like-what We would be like. Were the horror stories true? Would there be oppressive loads of data? Inhuman hours? Suspension of the joys of youth in favor of an indefinite period of self- flagellation? We took comfort in Loyola's com- paratively low attrition rate, in recollection of interview day: That tour guide didn't seem so miserable. The more we were able to convince ourselves that we might not become buried in books, however, the more likely it appeared that we would indeed become buried in debt. We heard that when these years of hard work were over, rather than finally taking control of our own lives, we would instead be told by a computer where to go next: a place where the hours were longer, the work even harder. We read about the projected glut of physicians, the increasing threat of lawsuit. But then, almost mercifully, it happened. We actually became medical students. And thus began the steady series of realizations that 4 Opening this was not like anything we had ever imagined. Many of us had taken a taste of the real world between college graduation and entering Loyola-Stritch. But for most of us, July of 1982 marked yet one more in an unbroken streak of back-to-back years spent going to school--the seventeenth grade, so to speak. But as with each previous change to a new school, many things seemed very different. Certainly, one of the most notable differences between college and medical school was the simple matter of classmates. After having spent four years among a pack of neurotic, competitive, slobbering pre-med students clam- mering over each other in hopes of finishing on the top of' the heap, one had cause to ask that first day at Stritch, Where are all the nerds? One might have expected from that heap of pre-meds, that the ones we would actually meet in medical school would be the pre-meddest of alll Instead, as we funnelled into that first Anatomy class, we discovered fascinating and delightful diversity. From Rhode Island to California, from Washington State to Florida, they came: A girl with her hair dyed pink in the seat ahead . A mountainous defensive tackle who played varsity football on National T.V. to the left. A born-again Christian on the right. A harp-