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

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lent artist when he attempted a drawing on the midterm... half the class maintained that it was a sketch of the tibia while the other half recognized it as the third metatarsal. Regardless of the correct answer, there was no denying that his drawing was one of... a shaft. For everything south of the patella Dr. DiPrimio was flown in direct from the heart of South Philly. Each time he stood in front of the class in his dark pin-striped suit and gently lifted his collection of ragged bones from his violin case, he brought new meaning to the phrase, Yo, Falconio! Drs. Fenton and Burke were the First Class Act of the first year. They were both well prepared, both had offices on the fifth floor, and they both had different last names! Oh my Gosh! Coincidence? I think not! ... for we saw far too many coincidences in this course. For a moment, picture if you will... an amino acid... alone, yet not alone... swirling endlessly in the never-ending tempestual sea of metabolism. . . a veritable jungle of activity, yet retaining inherent stability. . . synthesizing, catabolizing, metamorphosizing, from one compound to another. There in a strange, mysterious world, neither in daylight or darkness... teetering on the very brink of reality. Yes, these and countless other paradoxes were a commonplace occurance, and wedged precariously in some dark corner of our memories still lies the terrifying realm of.....Biochemistry Zone And what of Dr. Burns? In just twelve short weeks we learned two entire pages of biomechanics definitions!. . without him ever cracking a smile! Oh!, and let's not forget that this time was also shared with Marvin Jacoby... (he's almost for real; just saddle him up with spurs on your heels.) After our time spent with Dr. Jacoby (the 1981 Poster Child for Congcntial Hip Dysplasia,) most of us were very thankful we weren't enrolled in the six-year stint for the DPM-PhD in Biomechanics! As the first year wound to a close, we had mixed emotions. . . deliriously happy to be Vi of the way toward our goal (DPM), but terrified of the years that lay ahead (thanks to horror stories told by upper classmen.) In retrospect, we made some friends and had some good times: our Holiday Party at Society Hill Club was a huge success!. . . and our end-of-the-year picnic at Cooper River Park gave the animals amongst us a chance to shine: brutally rending the garments from the back of R. Pierce and turning his ever- present nametag into a worthless ball of molten plastic. By the end of the first year we had lost a few more students: some to med school, some to other podiatry schools and still others. . . just lost!! ACT II, SCENE I •Warning! This section may be confusing, even for the R.Ph. Our chests puffed with pride (and some with kleenex) at the idea of almost being a doctor, we met to begin our second year in Room 319. Old 319 , as we fondly called it, was the think-tank on the third floor for those well versed in anatomy, biochemistry and phys... physio... kwashiork. physiology ... whew!! We began second year thrilled at the prospect of finally learning something applicable . Our lives were filled with spoon-shaped nails and we found ourselves dodging bullet-like spores from the many types of perfect fungi. Hearing tales told by those who had trod this path before, we were somewhat apprehensive at the thought of facing another nine months of cutting classes to snooze, ordering pizzas at midnight, and watching our liver enzymes skyrocket thanks to local clubs. . . could we take another year of the good life ? In retrospect, the workload was greater than the first year's had been, but we were appreciative (usually) of the seemingly more relevant nature of the Beast . ACT II, SCENE II Dr. Krausz made certain we could all spell Saracoptes scabei just in case we intended to teach Classical Greek Podiatry in the future. King Harold showed us nude babies while insulting Paul Good... and we had quizzes to determine whether we would post in varus, post in valgus, or post no bills. And speaking of posting, the test grades were no longer a secret... it soon became a spectator sport after grades were posted watching a student with a 25% act as if he she had aced the test. The Sixth Floor finally caught on and decided to restore anonymity by using our names instead of our numbers. Micro taught us that Staph was resitant. .. but we were susceptible. . . to dim lights and long lectures. Many of us ended class with our notes firmly imprinted on our foreheads ... if not our brains. Dr. Dziarski proved to be the class of this show. Though at times he was difficult to understand because of his heavy Irish accent, his lectures were of the highest quality. Dr. Axler kept us on the edge of our seats with tales of capsids and RNA viruses that reproduced like lustful heathens! Dr. Abramson used insight and compassion in his approach: when we were nearly down for the count, our highlighters bruised and battered, massive hematomas shrouding our once proud facies, he steered our recovery in Merril-Lynch fashion through all of the bull. We were fortunate to have lectures on cell structures and microbial genetics from the only gram positive coccus ever to hold a teaching position in all of Podiatry.....Bohdan Terleckyj. We soon learned that caffeine was the drug of choice for this chronic pest. We began to fear fecal fallout more than nuclear fallout and learned that somehwere out there ... indiginous to society . . . lurk more microbes than R. has hockey shorts! We were assured that although some of the material

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The Class of 1984 Is Proud To Present Its History Or La Cage Aux Folles ACT I, SCENE I •Preface to the reader: remember that ridicule is the highest form of flattery !! The Class of 1984 was conceived slowly throughout the school year of 1979-80; and it was born from the loins of PCPM in August 1980. One-hundred-thirty-five stong, we came in all shapes and sizes, and from many strange and faraway lands: Utah, Vietnam, Scranton... some even came from the scarred and tragically wartorn wasteland known as New Jersey. Many occupational backgrounds were represented in this newly formed class of 1984: from teachers to plumbers to professional students... one of our classmates even ran track!! Our first experience with Podiatry school life came with that ever-popular event known as Orientation , which went off without a hitch. In our little groups wc were shuffled from place to place like little lost SHEEP RBC's in some unsuspecting E-rosette (in clinic jackets that smelled more like the plastic wrapper than the toejamb they would come to resemble in the not too distant future...) During I those first two days we became slightly acquainted with a few of our colleages and some of the faculty and administration. We knew that we were hot stuff... college gradu- there (aka the male genital anatomy) from Thelma Chen, who of course learned everything she knew about the subject from years of textbook study. Anyway, let's face it, teaching yourself anatomy from a set of books written in Is ‘es. . . here in Podiatry school. . . mature Student Doc-•rs (the thrill of that particular title quickly wore off). . . ;tting an education that would be totally applicable to our tore as Podiatrists. As time unfolded we would discover lat this wasn't exactly the case. Perhaps most amazing was ie fact that the Residency Hounds began to surface ren at that early date. While many of us worried about aking it through the first trimester, others were planning eir bobbing strategies to unfold in the coming years. We ere about to embark on a journey that could only be iscribed as neat! Yes, in those first few weeks in Podiatry school we were meet many people: Frank Edema, Steve Frank, Frank fection, Frank Lescosky, Frank Pus, Frank Roosevelt Bou- ard, and last but not the least benign, Frank Conway. . . lese guys must have all been related). In Histology our iss could best be compared with a liver lobule. There isted there different zones based upon one's distance m Dr. Conway; from proximal to distal we have: the na Rather Interestaris, the Zona Intermedia and, of urse, the Zone of Permanent Repose. If, for some reason, u don't remember much of the liver (and if by chance u want to), please refer to Bloom and Fawcett. Leeson d Leeson won't have it. . . . It's a piece of junk. Coach Harrington put our team into the real spirit of ngs right from the start. He had a way of making us feel od with his rah-rah speeches even when we knew things :re going sour. In his uplifting tone of voice he would tell to, Review today's material; read a bit ahead each night; d for God's sake, know your objectives!-------and I prom- I'll have those Embryo handouts to you tomorrow. rariably, we'd have to close our eyes, drop back ten ds, and punt. Knatomy was, you will recall, a self-taught course as we d only three lectures: One on the heart, one on the head j neck, and one scintillating firsthand report on down British of all things was not an easy task as two of our earliest casualties. Bob Skrypeck and Pete Felbeck, soon discovered. All was not lost as these two did manage to transfer to Dental school, owing it all to our great background in head and neck anatomy. (The most memorable thing retained is that there are two things that supply taste to the anterior surface of the tongue.) Let's not forget Dr. Churchill; heartbroken from the previous class's failure rate, she decided to make our fantastic voyage around the Circle of Willis, past the Tentorium Cerebelli, and through the upper motor neurons a bit less lesion-laden. Abandoning the time-honored percent system, she replaced it with a grading method that made it almost impossible to fail. . . repeat almost. .. after all, she needed someone to keep her company in the summer. And who could ever forget all those memorable lectures given by those Wizards of Intro to Podiatry: Lyons and Shapiro. Class was actually to meet every other week due to Dr. Shapiro's (the original Invisible Man) nebulous prior committments ... guess they just forgot to tell us about it! ACT I, SCENE II Second term swooped upon us by surprise just after Thanksgiving as we were introduced to the comedy team of Al Pitkow and Tom Davis, who took time out from their busy Saturday Night Live schedules to tag-team-teach the mysteries of Physiology. After wrestling with Pitkow's mind-boggling Tales of jhe Excitable Membrane we are only now beginnng to understand what Davis taught us: Remember that the heart is like wringing out a telephone booth. . . or is it like wrapping your thyroid with Saran wrap... or is it like Addison's with Kennedy's bull testes... wait!. . . who stole my insulin?. . . I'm flying around the room!!— overload. .. lub, dub... lub, dub. .. lub, dub. Lower Extremity Anatomy, the Marine Corps of Podiatry school, was headed by Field Marshall Bruce Hirsch. Ruling his class with an iron pelvis, he insisted that we learn three things: A tubercle is not the same as a tuberosity, a fossa is not the same as a foramin, and most importantly, printing your name is definately not the same as writing it! Surely we all remember when Dr. Hirsch proved himself a compe- F P.k ,h

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covered would seem meaningless to us at that point, their extreme relevance would become increasingly more apparent as we matured in our careers. Some of the fascinating topics etched in our very craniums which are already proving their invaluability are those such as: 1) The sexual cycle of Wucheria bancrofti 2) Peculiarities of stool factories and the effects of tetracycline there on 3) If we'd ever see peptidoglycan in a cell wall we'll know how to treat it. One important question raised by star-student Pointdexter Biff Atheras was, Hey, what's the story with corn?!?? Pathology was no picnic either. This department, led by Tony Award Winner Broadway Sid Arden (star of the hit the book was a point of contention for the longest time; while Dr. Seuss wanted to call it One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Dead Fish, Dr. Whincman favored Green Eggs and Radiodermatitis. Memorable things did occur in this class that we's like to record for posterity: We all recall a certain Friday morning when one of our colleagues was literally wheeled into class, bottle of rum still firmly attached to his right hand, with the visible battle scars of the previous night's bachelor party etched onto his face and body. And let's not forget those poor souls from Becker who dared to turn on the lights in the projection room during a slide presentation. The wrath of Whineman sent them scurrying down the hall with their tails between their legs, wishing they'd never been born. Oh yes, and just remember those immortal words of wisdom, When voting for the Teacher of the Year, be advised it is not a popularity contest! And if Dr. Whineman thought he was perfect, Dr. Jacob knew that he was. Giving credit where it is due however, our resident schlarp aneschlezheolozghischt gave us some of our best lectures of second year. Not to build him up too much, it was kind of a jzhlerclk phizhlishin's move to punish us for poor attendence by forcing us to read the handout on cancer chemotherapy. This manuver was in lieu of a lecture that he couldn't give anyway because of a prior commitment . Luckily for us whenever a question on cancer popped up, methotrexate was always the answer of show, Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?), consisted of an array of faculty the likes of which even James Watt would be proud: a Korean, a Philippino, two Jews and a Scotsman. Broadway's scintillating lectures forced us to take the full compliment of cuts lest our brains become maximally pronated and locked. And speaking of cuts, thanks to Bev Poulson each of us managed to enjoy our full allotment of them---some of the more enterpris- ing even managed to purchase a few extra from the more financially destitute members of the class. Pathomechanics opened our eyes and our minds: taught by King H. D. (Howdy Doody) Schoenhaus, we learned that the Root of all evil was not greed, but uncontrollable pronation. If we could invert the sub-talar joints of prominent heads of state we'd change the course of history. You see, in severe pronation, it's not only that the sub-talar joint is out of control, the abnormal forces are actually transmitted clear up to the sphenoid bone at the floor of the brain. This produces a pathological action upon the precentral sulcus causing personality shifts hence the well known clinical entity: The Pronatory Personality. (Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin were both severe pronators.) Dr. Stephen Whineman (the man that Saturday Night Live used as their role model for the character of Steve and Wendy Whiner) was our host for Roentgenology. We looked for forward to this course with sincere anticipation of learning how to interpret radiographs of the foot. Disappointed, we discovered that the only soft tissue or bony pathology that could possibly occur is... pronation. On the bright side, each Friday morning we did review a bit of arithmatic... Dr. Whineman's forte seemed to be counting to twenty-five. We probably shouldn't be too hard on him as he was under a good deal of pressure at the time. You see, he and Dr. Seuss were co-authoring a comprehensive reference that was to revolutionize Podiatry. The title of choice. Speaking of questions, many a fingernail was chewed to the proximal IPJ upon reading 500 pages of notes and knowing the test would consist of a whooping fifteen questions! Orthopedics with Dr. Whitney was like visiting the dark side of the moon. With lectures brought to us directly from deep inside the subtalar joint we learned that pronation was not the only pathology of the foot. We also found that if Merton Root was obsessed with the frontal plane and Jim Ganley was obsessed with the transverse plane that Dr. Whitney's heart and soul were definately in the astral plane. Combining our vivid imaginations with his Triplane Taxonomy we could come up with many problems just screaming