USC School of Medicine - Asklepiad Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory . . . And so it came to pass that Kuzma led the slaves into the land of reality — a water pipe with chipped paint over- lying on autopsy table. Then He spoke unto us and said, How think you? And we were impressed but He was de- pressed and promptly summoned a CME student. Here we found ourselves viewing the almost futility of medicine with virgin eyes. Stuffed with knowledge, full of ideas, and with a keen sense of awareness we were still not sure just where a med-student could empty his bladder. Yes, we had arrived, the time had come for a verbal enema. Our chief complaint was intellectual constipation and disuse atrophy of two years duration. The present illness began on the sabbath with Psychiatry — like a cooly calcu- lated pruritis. Again, we were knee deep in words and ges- tures attempting to defend and justify a place for medicine in Psychiatry. After disposing of our shoes and socks we proceeded to engage in that stimulating art of listening. Shortly thereafter, a constantly aggravating, gnawing pain developed over the posterior cervical region accompanied by ringing in the ears and incessant tenesmus. It appeared that relief could only be obtained by coming very late to lectures, if at all. This soon became the norm and nothing short of the threat of retaliatory, total annihilation seemed to remedy the situation. Thus, the lecture hall became the community center; a place to dwell in idle thought and sleep if need be, to sit with cigarette and coffee and scrutinize the daily propaganda, and best of all, to gaze, awe inspired, at man ' s God-like creation — the minute hand. To be sure, none of us were quite as comfortable as was Dr. Hammond. Nevertheless, the reality of medicine was upon us and we learned many things. We found that adequate insurance coverage is prerequisite to honesty, that the Gestalt of a thyroid nodule is a piece of paper with arrows in every di- rection, that it ' s Gin-ecology not Gynecology, that a felon is a dire emergency which requires a 27 Blather-Budwiser uranium suture, and that regional surgeons are spreading out all over. It was easy to see that the Dermatologists were like hanging loose, the Proctologists knew which end was up, and the ENT people were endorsing the ingredients and buying stock in Kleenex. By the way, was it the Urologist who said, The only surgery an Obstetrician can do well is first to tie off the left ureter and then tie off the right one? Finally, for the believers there were Bible reading sessions in Opthalmology, positive thinking seminars in Cancer Orien- tation, and a sky-watching hour with the surgeons. Yet, despite the fact that these lectures provided a recep- tacle for oral wastage, we managed to become oriented in general medicine. However, the time had come to correlate specific statistics, observations, and experiences covering all of medicine in a homey atmosphere — fondly referred to as Survey. Here, the young and the old clustered together in an effort to overwhelm those of us who, insecure in our com- pulsive attempts to become competent physicians, were prone to acute anxiety attacks. It truly was the greatest show on earth. From the outset it was Dr. Reynolds against the human race — and he won. Weighting his opponents down with loaded questions and a slide projector, which parenthetically provoked Dr. Biegelman ' s first episode of exertional dyspnea, he succeeded in clearing the room of its antiquated miscon- ceptions. We must never forget how he revealed the scandal in Dr. Edmondson ' s past in his lecture on the causes of pyelonephritis. Or the time he defined Discuss as meaning to Diagram. But, then there was Dr. Martin, Dr. Nelson, and Dr. Friedman, to mention but a few, whose broad based swipes at the core of disease re-instituted our interest in medicine. Of course, there were those who failed to speak our. language, but we got retribution. Yes sir, we didn ' t answer their exam questions. We cannot forget how, in an effort to destroy our hero. Dr. Barbour and Dr. Peters con- spired and contrived a unique torture session known sadly as the Hate Dr. Brem Hour . Here, we entered a void where idiopathic pulmonary hemosiderosis secondary to metastisiz- ing angiosarcoma of the left auricular appendage had to be ruled out. And, though CPCmanship never swayed, even though they had the last laugh, we knew down deep that it was for the sake of curiosity, or was it Korsakoff ' s? Finally, in dispensing with the didactic we must never fail to mention JUNIORS those valueless and intimate hours spent with our beloved, respected ideal Cardiac whose Valsalva never swerved while he was thinking in international units. He will never be replaced, maybe by that guy, who with a smile on his face and fibrosis in his marrow used to say, Why sure, a calcification. The philosophers among us were jolted by the practical side of medicine and put to shame any who believed that Man wasn ' t expendable. Frustrations mounted as we wan- dered about the wards in search of the answer. Soon the book on 7600 began to look like a Who ' s Who of Crockery and a decision always had to be made as to just what con- stituted a good patient. To the student, the admitting ward was the epitomy of inefficiency, to the patient it was a lousy hotel, and to the ward personnel it represented a sort of sadistic security. To the interns and residents it represented a challenge; namely, who could send the patients home the fastest. But then came those infinite downs with writers cramp and cranial nerves intact. With no exostoses, no lid lag, and the history and physical essentially negative. Serious prob- lems arose, e.g., the wiggle in the EKG tracing, deferred pelvics, and no stool in the ampulla. And you ' ve got to remove the tourniquet before injecting the Decolin, or, I wanted an LP not an aortogram. Remember the times when feces fell from heaven and you forgot to do an occult blood, and you failed to get a serum porcelin on your crock and when you did you forgot to put the stamps on. And veni-punctures were for kids. How many cisternal tops did you do? Can ' t you picture your first presentation when you discovered that your stethescope wasn ' t plugged in, that the history varies from time to time, and that it wasn ' t fetor hepaticus — it was fetor tuberculosis. Of course there was always Dr. Reynolds who singed your eyebrows off when you overlooked the nursing notes in the old chart, and Dr. Manning who kept saying, And what else? in your differ- ential diagnosis, or perhaps it was when Dr. Schwartz turned pale when you informed him that you hod just lost your taste for cigarettes. And then there was Dr. Petit who dan- gird his feet from the clouds along with Dr. Barbour who just kept smiling and nodding his head. Let us not forget Drs. Tranquada and Ives who, like frustrated censors, edited our writeups or Drs. Balchum and Barrows who, like dedi- cated teachers, managed to get the point across. Unfortun- ately, there was always grand rounds featuring flapping jaws and backslapping with knives. Wonders never ceased as we emmigrated from camp to camp. In Pathology, it was Dr. Kuzma walking on the water and Dr. Peters walking on the rocks, both licking their lips as the spatula smoothed away the juices. With tender, loving care on Diabetes we learned how urine is good for your hands, and on Pediatrics we sow how the SPCA had failed. We recall much about chest medicine, but nothing like the time Dr. Sills wet his pants when you mentioned bubonic plague. And in Unit 3, remember wondering who ' s got the key, and on Neurology it really didn ' t matter anymore. There were some humorous incidents also. Believe me, some of us cracked up, like the guy who ripped his trunk open with a crowbar, and like it couldn ' t happen to you but it did, and you failed to turn your tape recorder on. And we had our quarrels about Nixon vs. Kennedy, better known as should we have socialized medicine. Well, we left it up to the rest of the people to decide for a change. In retrospect, we have to admit to a very rewarding year. Especially for those who were fortunate enough to get a share of the Student Health profits. In all seriousness, we wish the administration of the School of Medicine the best of luck in the future, because I don ' t think any of us are coming back again next year. And by the way, I think it was a guy named Lopez who spilled coffee all over the new lecture hall floor. Harvey Lomas

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I L. to R. Bottom: Johanson, Richli, Roger Top: Young, Williamson, Truex

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Humphreys, 1, Schiffman Lu-Meng, Budni Bloom, ck. Bailor jberman. Standing: Grechman, Adams, Bauermeister, Hubbard, Monroe Seated: Bristol, McMeekin, Burnham L. to R. Standing: Mae, Seated: Israel, , Mack, Karson Smith, Krayaneck L. to R. Back: Nix, Sacks, Scholes Front: Hom, Nasseri, McClaskey L. to R. Standing: Oiivas, Witt, Ching Seated: Goodman, Monterastelli, Antin