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

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attempting to cram 2 weeks worth of material from 4 courses in one night, we would henceforth have to cram one month's worth of material from one course in one night. We were lulled into a false sense of security by the absence of exams until after the New Year Things would get very ugly soon, but all we cared about was the First Christmas Party. The party was held at the London Victory Club, later torched by its owners in a vicious insurance scam. We all got ripped, and Bernie stripped - even removing his famous anatomy T-shirt for the first time in many months. 3. The Year of the Rat, and the Turtle, and the Frog, and the dog . . . You're travelling thru another di mension, a sight and sound, but of Lower Extremity Anatomy. There's a signpost up ahead, your next stop. The Hirsch Zone. If some of us thought that Judy Rae was twisted, we were all stunned by Bruce The Billygoat Hirsch. We started LEA with osteology; he continued to bone us for six months. We learned that the oblique groove on the ventral-medial-lateral surface of the plantar aspect of the 3rd cuneiform had a nutrient foramen which ossified in the 3rd month (IU). Having mastered osteology in only 10 short weeks, wre were left with 10 whole days to learn muscles, ligaments, arteries, nerves and all that other good stuff. REMEMBER THE RULES: 1. Must pass thru a metal detector to get into the exam. 2. All women are subject to strip searches at the whim of the proctor. 3. If you stand up, you will be hot. 4. If your signature does not match that on your application, you will be relegated to the Class of 1°S6. Fortunately, we had Dr. Raymond 'Father Guido DePtimio to tailor the skeletons with strips of cloth and question our Sicilian clsssmates. When we weren't studying Lower, we were slaughtering animals fot Dr. Pithkow. We were assured that they felt no pain, but they sure yelled a lot Turtles did sit-ups, frogs did clonus and dogs died. But their sacrifice was not in vain, for we learned that: 1. physiograph ink is indeed indelible . . . 2. their hearts were pumps . . . 3. none of them had Addison's 4. ... so we didn't give them thyroid. Dr. Pithkow taught us the importance of studying old tests during the Super Bowl. He was kind enough to illustrate the importance of the hypothalamus in maintaining homeostasis by gaining 50 lbs. in one term and dropping it like one of his bad questions the next. Philosophic physiology was taught by Dr. Bob Just put down the right answer Davis. We learned that by using the rooster comb assay we could determine whether or not all pro-basketball players wearing glasses were always pregnant. And so we have that . . . The highlight of Biochemistry was actually learning how we metabolized all the alcohol we drank after each exam. The blonde bombshell of Biochemistry, Barbie Fenton, titillated us with tales of fatty acids. She whipped us into submission with her endless essays. No matter how much he drank at our keg parties. Dr. Burke never turned into a raving lunatic, unlike many of his cohorts. Dr. Burke taught us with humor, humanity and respect... we appreciate it so much that we re not going to make fun of his miserable golfing performances. Gib Astral Plane' Hice saw to it that we memorized a lot of definitions. We re still not sure why, but we do know that the Axis of Pronation is parallel to the San Andreas Fault. The California Kid had a twisted way of looking at things, but he was always willing to take extra time and effort explaining that he didn t learn biomechanics at Haight-As-bury - so we all liked Dr. Hice. 4. Can you really change the pH of the ocean by pissing in it? You re looking at a Mr. Robert O'Leary, a man down on his luck. He is about to take a Lower Exam that he has taken before and somehow knows he will take again, a Lower Exam to be taken in The Hirsch Zone. 3rd term commenced with our descent into the bowels of the school. Yes, we were returning to the scene of previous crimes, the Anatomy Lab. The doors opened; 3 students went into anaphylactic shock, 2 contracted testicular cancer, and dozens were overcome by the noxious fumes. And that was the good news. The bad news was that: 1. We were to spend 11 weeks thoroughly dissecting the thigh, and 2 days to learn the 26 bones, 53 joints, 87 intrinsic muscles and countless ligaments of the foot. 2. We finally learned why they had warned us to be careful when we hacked the cadavers in half. 3. I had an arm that Hirsch was trying to pass off as a leg, but he couldn t fool me. No longer concerned about maintaining a high average on our weekly quizzes, we were delighted to score above the high 50 s. As horrible as the weekly bludgeonings in the quizzes were, nothing could compare with the stench of fear which permeated the air as we lined up like lambs being led to slaughter for the LOWER PRACTICAL. Chained doors, armed guards, and savage attack dogs were used to thwart attempts at tunneling into the lab from the housing complex the night before the exam. The key to doing well on practicals was realizing that if it looked like a piece of string it was a nerve: if it looked like a twig it was an artery; and if it looked like a two-week old piece of roast beef it was a muscle. No matter how much we studied, we all got 79's, but we learned Lower,damn it, and we have B.E. to thank for that. No description of our first year would be complete without mentioning Dr. Mike Third Degree Burns, who quietly took more prisoners than Hirsch, Pithkow and Barbie combined. When the final casualty list was totaled, several of us had 9

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The History Of The Class: Part One 1. Do the Cadavers Really Stink? Since none of the historians were fortunate or stupid enough to have attended SARP, we re not going to tell you about it. The CLASS of 1985 was born on or about September 5,1981. And what a diverse group it was: I'm from Marlton . . . that's in New Jersey, not Mars.” There were Nittanny Lions, Blue Hens, Scarlet Knights, Terrapins, Contes and other assorted and varied creatures; all about to be converted to NERDS from PCPM. And who better to initiate the conversion than Jan There's a Pony in There Somewhere Hoffer, Jim I'll be seeing some of you again at graduation Bates, and Charles Cibney Boot. Room 318 rapidly became our home from 9 to 5. Territorial rights were quickly established. Rick ‘Captain Video Groves and Mitch Hari Krishna Silverman staked out their seats in the front row. A small band of compulsive-psychotic pre-meds found themselves comfortable in the front, while the majority of us longed for the anonymity of the back rows. Oui first term comsisted of a conglomeration of courses that would prove vital to our future careers. The Secrets of the Cell and the Mysteries of the Macrophage were unraveled for us in (almost) inimitable fashion by Dr. Frank Conway. Some of the finer points of Histology proved difficult for some of us to comprehend; shown a slide of the Vas deferens and asked in what organ its contents were normally seen. The King of Porn left Dr. Conway speechless for the first and only time by replying: The esophagus. Our initial exposure to podiatry was provided by the KID from GEORGETOWN, Donnie Lyons. INTRO to NOD taught us the value of: high-topped shoes, skipping class to study, mid-morning naps and sucking up to podiatrists who might be able to help us get a residency in the future. We even learned the difference between Paul Bunyan and Bunions (like on your toes!). Of course, no description of our first term could be complete without a thorough dissection of Coach Harrington and his ever-faithful side-kick, The Samoan. We are all indebted to The Coach for: 1) Constantly reminding us how dumb we all really were; 2) But reminding us how we could overcome this handicap by holding securely onto the Pencil of Knowledge; 3) While if all else failed, answering around the fourth week when in doubt would probably suffice. The Coach was a firm believer in time-outs; he took time-out of lectures and time-out of labs. He also took his time in getting out the Em-biyo handouts. We never quite understood his explanations for the delay, perhaps because he had a mouthful of glans penis, I mean, LANCE PEANUTS. Thank God for Bob The Running Professor Boyd, without whom we never would have been able to fathom the complexities of the brachial plexus or the 6th green at Merion. Tests were administered every two weeks by the faculty: Q: What is the Velum Interpositum? A: A. 1 and 3 are correct B. Always guess B if unsure. C. I haven't answered C in a while. D. If it's not B , it’s probably D E. It's never E . you cretin. 1. A position in the Kama Sutra. 2. Exit 105 off the Schuykill 3. The wine that Judy Rae carries around in those bags all the time. 4. A sperm bank in California. 5. Who cares? Tests were followed by a weekend of debauchery, liver damage, and attending any class. Chris The Boy Ferraro proved that the admissions committee was far from infallable: 0 preparation of challenges to the more inane question. The first term was not without its casualties. David Oppenheim earned the admiration of us all by never once I did good, I did good. No mother, 46 wasn't the lowest grade in the class. We quickly adapted to the rigors of life at PCPM. Some of us spent long, hard hours plunging into our interests at the Jefferson Library, while many of us studied there too! One of the big adjustments to life at PCPM was the necessity of relying on a note service. There were two ways of looking at the note service: you were either grateful that they provided so much information to learn or you were pissed off that they provided so much information to learn. Q. What is the definition of a millionth of a second? A. 1. The time it took for Sharon Beller to get to the front of the note service line. 2. The time it took for Fran Quinn to scream HI-HATS after the overheads were turned off. 3. The time it took for Brad Toll's digestive system to make its presence known to the class following a late night at Doc's. Final exams loomed menacingly on the horizon. Dave Psycho Baskwill demanded that we be tested on everything we had learned since the 3rd grade. The class - tired, dazed, and confused amid the pressures of our first set of final exams, elected class officers. Face it, we screwed up. 2. This ain't no party, this ain't no disco . . . The 2nd semester opened with a pep rally featuring our head cheerleader, Ho-Ho. We were congratulated for our stellar performance 1st trimester, and warned that instead of

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bought the Triple Crown, and getting to class early in order to be assured of a seat would no longer be a concern. Part Two 1. Bugs and Drugs Our final summer of freedom a fleeting memory, we returned to PCPM stunned to learn that Hollick had become Sella Turcica and thet Ed Fallon had eloped to NYCPM with Victoria Brightman. We had heard tales of horror concerning Micro, but nothing we had encountered had prepared us for the Ax Man, Bo!, SoliDziarski, and Crazy Carl. Bo More Detail Terlickiyjij opened the festivities by thrilling us with tales of cell walls, conjugation, sex pilus, and gram negative rods of lust. Bo's dynamic lectures often whipped the class into such a frenzy that the women would scream Bo! Bo! Bo! and throw intimate articles of clothing in his direction, evoking memories of the Beatles' initial appearances on Ed Sullivan. We all liked Dr. Dziarski a lot on those rare days that we were able to tune into his frequency. Dr. Axler organized a well taught course, notable for its incredible volume of material and impossibly difficult immuno logy questions. Dr. Abramson, our savior, taught us that a worm on a stick was not a popsicle, that we should avoid wading in the Nile River or risk growing huge balls, and that creeping eruptions are not necessarily synonymous with a rocket in your pocket. We all bravely risked horrible diseases each time we set foot in the Micro Lab. It didn’t help that some of us showed up for lab barely ambulatory: Look at you, you can t even pipette. Wednesdays at 8 am we finally began to learn Physiology. Lenny the Punk, Britt, Pugie and Der would remain our nemesis for an entire year. At final count we were responsible for 563 drugs and every possible interaction among them. Lenny believed in academic Russian roulette; 11 questions covering 300 pages of notes. He constantly regaled us with tales of life-saving derring-do; reminding us that he saved SK F on countless occasions, as well as an occasional diabetic on an airplane. Everything we injected in Pharm Lab died; Dr. Pithkow would have been proud of us. Pugie used advanced cardiac life support in a futile attempt to resuscitate the little creatures. Many of us became convinced that every man, woman and child we injected would meet a similar fate. Of course, the pharmacists in the class already knew better from their extensive personal knowledge of every drug known to man: Honest guys, my eyes always look like this after I’ve been up all night studying. It was left to Der to elucidate the wonders of Ortho Novum, which we already knew was a derivative of the secretions of the pineal gland from NOVO. £ ftoacar wrc | Cut it out you guys.” 2. If a pathologist lectures and there's no one there to hear it, does he really make a sound? Pathological Zen was brought to us by the tag-team of Sid, Seo and K. We were taught scores of rare, disgusting disorders, none more frightening than that which afflicted our classmate Bernbach each afternoon Marcolepsy . The course was very thorough; vve were required to either read all of the textbook or look at old exams an houi before the test. King Harold held court semiweekly. The diminutive, bearded always stylishly attired Showinoff was feared for his random assaults on the intelligence and integrity of his students, as well as his infamous matching exams: 1. Horse shit and splinters 2. Dave Shit-tino 3. Conte's hat 4. Electro-stimulation weight loss 5. Doctor Love A. Rohadur rigids B. Wise ass C. No nookie D. Fraud E. Future Resident We were honored to be taught whatever; by the namesake of our library, Dr. Charles Krausz. He showed us an astounding collection of rare slides of proud flesh dating back to the War of 1812. Holy shit1 We almost forgot The Second Christmas Party, held at Di-Pintos. An open bar was all the excuse we needed to establish new blood alcohol records. We all got shit-faced and did things we ll regret for a long time. 3. Stuck inside the Fishbowl with the Toes U. Blues again . . . The doldrums of winter were upon us. Our calendars were filled with seemingly endless array of tests and quizzes. This depressing tedium was occasionally interrupted by Dr. Weissman, who taught us all about shadow gazing and he even taught us a few more games: Find the Fracture” and Guess the Angle. Spring was heralded in with a myriad of new courses, the names of which I doubt if anybody remembers. Nevertheless, our schedules were quite full for those dwindling few who chose to attend clsas. Most of us chose to fill our time with other diversions. 0 OW nau I'll be up on the roof. It's not easy 10