Ambitions of a Vet Student

I was talking with another fourth year student today, and she described the evolution of her career goals:

She came in wanting to specialize in medicine. By second year, she decided she wanted to work at a general practice hospital. By third year, her goal was to get a job. Now, halfway through her fourth year, she dreams of one day getting a full night's sleep.

Walking in circles

Students visit the radiology reading room from all over the hospital, and sometimes it's not hard to guess what service rotation they're on. Today as I watched my friend unwind the leash of a compulsively circling dog for the fourth time, I cleverly deduced that this was a neuro patient.

Circling behavior comes from damage to the brain. A dog can circle simply because it lacks the coordination, balance, or wherewithal to walk in a straight line. Other times, a dog is driven to continue walking in circles until they simply fall over from exhaustion and sleep, only to wake up and do it again. This dog was unusual in that, on top of all of that, he would snarl or bite at anyone who tried to stop him.

At first this seemed really strange to me. It's more than an involuntary compulsion, then, if he is making intentional/voluntary movements to defend his ability to circle, right? It seemed really strange that he would violently defend a behavior that was unrewarding and really just a subconscious compulsion...

But then I started thinking about human behavior, and suddenly the pooch's behavior didn't seem so strange at all. We strive to have more, to make more, to grow a business or a bank account, to get a bigger TV and a better car... and all the way we never stop to think about who might be harmed in our quest. We see this kind of behavior every day, and there's lots of evidence to show that the results of it all don't make us any happier or more satisfied with the life we've lived. Most of the time it would make us happier just to sit back with a smaller piece of the pie and savor every bite. But I think there's something deep down that drives us to acquire, to work, and to compete, and we're so used to doing it that if someone tells us to slow down, even if they're doing it for our own good, we have a tendency to snap at them.

When the doctor says "Huh...."

It's common knowledge that when a doctor looks at your results and then says "Hmmm"... you're in big trouble. I guess there's some truth to this, but I realized something today while reviewing radiographs: it's not necessarily as bad as it sounds. It's not "hmmm, we knew you had a problem but we weren't expecting this" or "hmmm, I don't know how to interpret this strange result..." It's more likely that the doctor has looked at 60 test results today, and has been straining at all of them to find the slightest abnormality. The "huh!" is just surprise at actually having something there to look at.

I'd still rather have the doctor squinting quizzically at my radiographs without finding anything to comment on, of course. From the outside, I always felt like "normal" was something you looked at and confirmed. In fact, in many cases, "normal" just means "well, I don't see anything yet, but maybe if I kept looking..."