Temple University School of Podiatric Medicine - Achilles Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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CLASS STRUGGLE DEPT THE FIGHT OF THE CENTURY - ROUND ONE “Good evening everyone. I’m Howard Cosell. And we are here tonight at the Caesar’s Palace of the east-PCPM. Tonight, a true battle of the heavyweights. In the far corner, weighing in at 17,000 pounds, and wearing meconium green trunks, the Class of 1981. And in the other corner, weighing 18,000 pounds and in the Betadine red trunks, the PCPM faculty. There is every reason to believe, dear viewers, that this will be a battle to end all battles. A match of not only brawn, but of wits. What is your assessment, Muhammed Ali? Sorry, Howard, you know I can’t give an assessment without first presenting subjective and objective Findings. “ Right you are. Ali. Well, we don’t have time for your ludicrous remarks anyway, because the referee, known only as CASPR. has just entered the ring and is explaining the ground rules of the fight to our pugilistic groups. The fight tonight is brought to you by Langer Labs makers of fine orthotics for every known physical activity. One of their newer products this year is the whore-thotic , for the ladies-of-the-evening with forefoot varus ... Okay everybody, the battle is about to begin ” • BONG • FOOT HEALTH CENTER located on race street ■ Our first year of classes consisted of a curious mix of anatomy, cheerleading, and an ensemble of instructors that could have been Disney characters. We had instructors with Munchkin voices and Svengali beards (Never-never look directly into Dr. Hirsch’s eyes). There were wisecracking Embryology professors and sage lower extremity anatomy professors with initials for first names. We had absent-minded professors that would put Fred MacMurray to shame. We sat through male lecturers, female lecturers, and lecturers we were never too sure of. And outside of learning never to give thyroid to an Addison (or is it the other way around?), we learned enough to get us good scores in the boards, to embarrass Med students during our externships, and to actually like eating hot dogs ... And the Xerox machine broke down .... The cheerleading was provided by two podiatrists from Washington. On Wednesday mornings we listened as one of the two told us stories he wouldn’t tell his Psychiatrist; or we heard from Podiatry's answer to Mitch Miller. So it goes .... We worked hard during that first year. It wasn’t easy to shake that smell of Anatomy lab. But like good boys and girls, we learned our Anatomy, our histology, our neuroanatomy (isn't the ego lateral to the Foramen of Lushka?’’), our biochemistry, and despite all odds, our physiology. We memorized everything we never wanted to know about physics (of the bio kind), and had our first exposure to the word-coined biomechanics of Dr. Whitney and the fashion-world mechanics of Dr. Schoenhaus. (Is it really true he has designer genes?). What we really needed were more breaks. Once an hour was not enough. • BONG What a round that was, Ali. Both sides started out with minor punches and weak jabs, and then, midway, they began with their heavy-duty stuff. But for every roundhouse punch dished out by the Faculty, the Class of 1981 rebounded eloquently! Yes, Howard. It makes you wonder what sort of medication the Class was taking to allow them to handle such abuse.” I don’t think it was medication so much as it was the desire to make it to round two. The old, ’fight for survival’ bit, eh Champ?” You might say that. I just did, Ali.

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History (What, No Physical?) Author's Note My Dear Colleagues, I do not know why I feel compelled to inform you as to what follows. We all experienced these events together. I mean, we were all there weren't we? I tend to distrust rememberances of things past (Sorry, Proust). Petty annoyances are pictured as major. Major problems are dwarfed. Even good times (we did have some) are exaggerated. So this writing will not be a diary. Nothing retrospective can be. Rather, what follows is a verbal crate of our last four years together. Like cleaning out your desk and finding scraps of the past. Within, you 'll find our triumphs and tragedies. Our moments of wit and our moments of what? (This is beginning to sound like a TIME magazine commercial.) Please do not take this writing too seriously-an intent to offend is not ... well ... intended. Indeed, take what is written on the pages that follow in the spirit in which it was composed-malicious. Actually, satire provides a good mirror to our past (boy, did I put my foot into it!). And so, before you begin with the silliness that follows, I would like to impart one last bit of moralistic sermonizing. You'll have to excuse its sobering tone, but I believe its message is too important for us to ignore: Always remember fellow Doctors, you are worth the same $2.80 in chemicals that those seeking your help are worth. Okay people- enough of this nonsense. Sit down with some close friends, make yourself comfy, and read on. Then- break out the champagne; congratulations- we made it! The Class Of 1981 Who We Are, What We Are. Why We Are (or. How we learned to be Doctors of Podiatric Medicine and still maintain a modicum of sanity.) DATELINE: Philadelphia. September 3, 1977. One hundred and twenty eight of us begin our journey. Our four year mission: to seek out new treatments and new populations; to boldly go where no podiatrist has gone before .... One-hundred and twenty-six of us begin classes four days later. Supposedly, one of the two early casualties vanished because of 'something' in the Anatomy lab. Spooky, isn’t it? .... Gourmet Cuisine Dept: Who can forget the lovely luncheon prepared for us on our first orientation day? Is it masochistic to remember it? Let it be noted that chicken has seen finer hours. And who can remember what we were served on orientation day number two? If you can, please write it in the provided space. I cannot Blue Ribbon Vending certainly contributed to our appetites. If you didn’t lose your appetite while losing your quarters, then it was lost for a week following digestion of their goodies. Well, at least the machines ate well. Coffee was a mainstay of our PCPM diet. Just ask Sheldon Goldberg. To him, a day without twenty-seven cups of coffee was like a day without sunshine. The beverage played such an important role in the life of the average PCPM student, that rumor had it Mrs. Olsen was offered a faculty position.

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DON'T MAKE AIR WAVES DEPT. Our generation, short of being war babies, was weaned on television. Much of our life, though we deny it at times, was strongly influenced by the programs on the box (just ask Marshall McLuhan). As a service to the class - here are some of the TV programs we missed while we were studying so hard during our first year. Mow, you'll understand why A.B. and N.B. see B.S. MR. DEAD- A new comedy series about a first year medical student who is assigned a talking cadaver. MATRIX- Mike Connors stars in his new detective story as an insurance investigator who helps people find lost limbs. MAILSMOKE- The season's only Western. This show deals with a cowboy named Onycho Masterson who treats horses for congenital talipes equinus. Raymond Barrel Burr stars. AIKEM IS ENOUGH- The new warm family series about a typical surburban family that always has multiple foot surgeries together. P A S H- A big hit. This is an excellent new show about emergency podiatrists stationed on the front line during the construction of the commuter tunnel. The superb cast includes Alan Alda as the irreverant Benjamin Franklin Porce, known to his friends as Clavi”; Wayne Rodgers as his bunk-mate Skin-Flapper John; Jamie Farr as the riotous, loony Klinger who bucks for discharge by wearing nothing but surgical gauze; and Gary Burghoff as Doppler. CLASS STRUGGLE DEPT II ROUND TWO We are back folks, for the second round of this outstanding bout that my colleague, Muhammed Ali, has nicknamed. The Thrilly in Philly.” The combatants have been resting in their respective corners for three months and are itching to get going again.” I don’t know Howard. Maybe it's because they've tasted that microwave popcorn. Well, whatever it was Ali. this great battle is about to resume.” BOMG • We all had hopes for the new school year. It started off on a nice note- at least weatherwise. The scorching humidity of the weeks before simmered down to a pleasantly cool first week of September. The comfortably crisp weather of October was not far away. The Phillies were in first place heading for the playoffs and there were signs of a good year for the Eagles and the Sixers. What a shame we were not a Philadelphia sports team. Medically speaking, in the first year we learned the way things should be. This year, we were to learn the way they shouldn't be. Everything you would ever want to know about medical pathologies was to be taught to us! Sort of a Medical Murphy's law. It was an exciting year of physiological wrongness. From the millions of pathogens in Microbiology, to the millions of syndromes in Pathology, to the billions of obscure disease names in Podiatric Pathology. The students who did well in these courses were given honorary Magna Cum Laudes from Harry Lorayne’s Memory School ... And the Xerox machine was still broken---- We ambled through courses about bacteria with the minds of men , and sat through some lectures given