Assorted complaints

I spent most of Tuesday being enraged at my lecturers. No - enraged is not the right word. Annoyed is probably more like it. But I think I need to work on being more tolerant. Once I get annoyed at a lecturer I find it very hard to listen to them and absorb anything, so I usually spend the rest of the class doodling on my notepad.

Pretty good doodles though - one of them had a cannon shooting a guy holding a giant hammer that would fall on another guy who would release a rope holding up a big weight that would squash yet another guy flat! And there was another one with a lion attacking a guy who was machine-gunning this other guy! Hmm, maybe I was enraged after all...


In the first lecture I got annoyed because the guy wasn't finishing his sentences before changing his mind and launching off on a different tangent. It really bugged me because when people do that it stops me from if you want to do that why not just start a blog, huh?

The second lecture was more insidious. I was okay for the first twenty minutes but the tension mounted until I couldn't take it any more. The problem was that she wouldn't stop using her extended metaphor of the eye as a video camera. It's fine the first time you hear it, but around the fifteenth time I heard her say, "the optic nerve, which is just like a video cable, right?", something in my brain burned out and that was the end for me. Like Dubya said, patronize me once, shame on you - patronize me twice, shame on ... you.

And the third lecture was so awful that I had to walk out halfway through. He didn't actually teach us anything, he just mentioned things. "Piaget - you've probably heard of his work. Or perhaps not. Very important stuff though. Very important." Not as important as my sanity though.

And while I'm busy complaining about stuff, why can't some patients just answer the damn questions you ask?? I recently spoke to a bloke who seemed to be afraid that I'd lose interest in him unless he had a fascinating story to tell me in response to every question I asked him. At a party he would be lots of fun. In a hospital it's just frustrating, because I have a hundred questions to get through and they all tend to go like this:

PTR
Do you have diabetes?

Bloke
No, but my brother's mate, he was a big bloke, weighed about a hundred kilos, he lost a lot of weight, they made him do it, it was too much, you could see it in his face, so thin, I mean he was down to eighty, his diabetes went away though but you could see it in his face, it was no good for him, so he put the weight back on and he looked much better, the diabetes came back of course, he loves his cream buns he does.

PTR
Sigh.

If you're ever in hospital being interviewed by a medical student, please don't do that to them. It makes them feel all itchy inside.