But sometimes I feel like you are out to get me. Just because I don’t quite get you.
Let me explain.
The other day I was trying to be the bigger person and put this unspoken animosity between us behind me. You know, I cracked open a couple of anatomy textbooks and an atlas and some notes and thought, “This is good. We can have a relationship based on mutual interest and respect. This is very good.”
But no sooner than twenty minutes after I had opened Moore’s was I hit with the realization that you are quite verbose and mouthy. No sweat, though. I could totally do Netter’s atlas. I’m better with more practical stuff anyway.
So I opened Netter’s with the aim of going through the abdomen plates and trying to identify all the labelled structures. You know, learn as you go. Read up in Moore’s every now and then. Nice and easy.
It would have been nice if you’d cooperated, Anatomy. I’m aware that, unlike the rest of medicine, you’re a pretty unchanging ou. So it’s not like anything I say can change you.
But understand my frustration when, mere minutes into my superplan, you hit me with a structure I did not recognise. Fascia lata.
Not exactly highergrade stuff, I realize in retrospect, but still a foreign concept at the time.
No prob though, because I figured Moore’s got my back. Except, although it was in the index and all, I had a difficult time finding the words on the actual pages.
Look, Anatomy, I get that it isn’t your fault that you’re all complex and all. I get that. I’ll take it up with God someday.
But the fact that I had to go to wikipedia to uncover your mysteries? I don’t know, hey, but that hardly seems fair.