I first saw you during orientation. Your towering horse skeleton immediately caught my eye as all us first years piled into the anatomy lab, and your exquisitely preserved mountain lion specimen only increased your natural beauty. Your shelves were lined with everything from plasticized rumens, equine leg models, and formaldehyde jars of capillary beds. As we signed out our bone boxes and excitedly began combing through their contents, I knew this spark we shared was something real.
I began to appreciate your depth and complexity as I studied the fabulous muscle and nerve illustrations in my anatomy textbook, and I was understandably nervous as the day of our first “date” drew nearer. As I entered the lab, fashionably dressed in scrubs, protective goggles, and vinyl gloves, I knew that whatever happened this evening would determine our fate together. With a determined huff, I pushed open the double doors and headed over to your table.
And this is where things began to fall apart, dear. You seemed to present quite differently over our internet communications, because those dissection videos and lab guides showed an altogether different being than the one I was meeting here today. Instead of a lean greyhound with large, easily identifiable muscles like those in the video, I was faced with an obese Golden Retriever, all hair and yellowish pink fat. As my lab partners and I labored to distinguish planes of dissections and avoid slicing deeper structures, I had to admit that between the misrepresentation and the sensory overload, the outlook for a happy relationship between us was looking bleak.
As I prepare for our first written and practical exam, I have to wonder if a five-hour exam is strictly necessary. Your tendency of having multiple names for the same structure is frankly just confusing, and honestly I start to fall asleep when you go on and on describing every last detail of those same structures. Frequently lapsing into Latin gibberish doesn’t help your case either. I write these things to you now, dear Anatomy, in the hopes that you recognize your selfish ways in time for us to rebuild our friendship, if not our love. Hopefully some of your tricks will soon become second nature (perhaps even endearing), and you will begin to open up and share your secrets.
Yours (for the next two semesters),