Purple Queens and Orange Llamas

Makin’ notes on carotid endarterectomy

And cravin’ toast. 

Surgery is like dissection room (DR). There’s something about tissues and fat globules that makes me so hungry. Even just looking at pictures of disgusting, stenosed carotid arteries is making me want some toast dripping with butter. Or even better, pizza covered in melted cheese the exact colour of the fat.

I remember in first year I couldn’t eat the halls pizza on DR days because it looked too gross (well, actually, I couldn’t eat the pizza any time because it was disgusting but that’s beside the point). Now it doesn’t bother me at all. Vulval carcinomas make good dinner time reading. 

Oh how innocent I was back then. If you’d said the words ‘carotid endarterectomy’ to me I’d probably have started crying at the sheer wall of knowledge I didn’t realise was coming at me. 

On an entirely different note, it pisses me off that my room has a very faint smell of cigarette smoke because the girl next door is smoking in her room (I assume that’s where it’s coming from anyway). Antisocial much? 

Maybe I should just shower now (at 20 to midnight) to piss her off. Except that I forgot my hairdryer so can’t, unless I want to stay awake until 3am while it dries #curlyhairproblems