Fun With Body Parts
Nov. 11th, 2005 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Every day that I get to learn something new is a good day. Even when that learning involves significant amounts of blood (not mine, thankfully) and profanity (admittedly, mostly mine). But I've got a new surgical procedure in my repertoire, even if I hope it's not one I need to make use of in the near future.
Yep, today I learned how to perform an enucleation. For the non-medical professionals out there, that's surgeon-speak for eyeball removal. It was ultimately a success, though I did need to call in more experienced help at one or two points to make sure I was poking where I was supposed to be poking, and pulling where I was supposed to be pulling. And it was a lot messier than I had expected.
You'd think that taking something out of an animal would be fairly easy, all things considered. It's not as if you were trying to put something in, and make sure that all the plumbing was hooked up snug and tight and flowing in the right direction. With eyes, it's not even as if you had ends to match up - it's a nice little smooth, round, self-contained package. Right? That's what the pictures show, at least.
I've already learned, though, that pictures - especially pictures in surgical textbooks - lie. And I've spent a decent part of this evening trying to think of an appropriate way to describe to those who might never have the delight of performing this procedure exactly what it's like. It was challenging, but I think I've finally figured it out. And it involves audience participation.
So, anyone who wants to Play Along With Doctor Becky, now is your chance. You can perform your own simulated enucleation with common household objects! It's easy, and I'll show you how.
It all starts with a grape. Preferably a peeled grape, if you have the patience. Find yourself a little cocktail sword (one of the plastic ones that people use to skewer Fake Polynesian Style Meatballs would probably be best), and stick it into the end of the grape. Then take a latex glove, and stick the grape, sword-end first, into one of the fingers and poke the sword out through the tip. Got it? Good. Now fill the glove with salsa. If it's leaking out the sword-hole, that's fine. It adds realism.
Now find the smallest child's sippy-cup you can. Make sure that the sipping hole is smaller than your grape. Mix up a batch of red-flavored jello, put the glove in the cup, and pour the jello into the cup around the glove. Put the lid on, and pull the cuff out the sippy-hole. Set this in your fridge until the jello is nice and set.
Okay - so: the cup is the socket, the grape is the eye, and the glove is the nice safe connective tissue around it. The cocktail sword is the nerve and blood vessel, and the jello is All The Crap In The Socket They Don't Tell You Is There In The Textbook.
Ready for surgery? Then get yourself a pair of scissors. Now comes the fun part - slide the scissors down through the sippy-hole, but *outside* the glove, around between the jello and the glove, and to the back tip. Then slide your fingers down the other side of the sippy-hole until you can feel the grape. Hold it still, and use the scissors to cut the cocktail sword in half without damaging the glove, the grape, or the cup, then pull everything out the sippy-hole. Do not, under any circumstances, allow any of the salsa or jello to ooze out of the cup, or mush the jello around to the point where it becomes liquid again.
What? Your fingers don't fit in through the sippy-hole? Funny thing, that. Just.... push, and wiggle, and try not to spill too much red stuff. Or you could just feel around with the scissors, and hope. For extra fun, set a ticking timer next to you during the whole procedure. And when you're done, try not to trhow anything on the floor, or stomp, or shout. Cursing, however, is very much allowed. Creativity gets you extra points.
So. That was my day today, or at least a large part of it. I love my glamorous job. Of course, the cup-game does not give you the extra added actual bonus of having a happy, living, pain-free patient at the end of it, complete with waggy tail and puppy-kisses, and it probably isn't quite as rewarding in the end. But I do have to keep some bits of the profession to myself, or else it wouldn't quite be as special anymore...
Yep, today I learned how to perform an enucleation. For the non-medical professionals out there, that's surgeon-speak for eyeball removal. It was ultimately a success, though I did need to call in more experienced help at one or two points to make sure I was poking where I was supposed to be poking, and pulling where I was supposed to be pulling. And it was a lot messier than I had expected.
You'd think that taking something out of an animal would be fairly easy, all things considered. It's not as if you were trying to put something in, and make sure that all the plumbing was hooked up snug and tight and flowing in the right direction. With eyes, it's not even as if you had ends to match up - it's a nice little smooth, round, self-contained package. Right? That's what the pictures show, at least.
I've already learned, though, that pictures - especially pictures in surgical textbooks - lie. And I've spent a decent part of this evening trying to think of an appropriate way to describe to those who might never have the delight of performing this procedure exactly what it's like. It was challenging, but I think I've finally figured it out. And it involves audience participation.
So, anyone who wants to Play Along With Doctor Becky, now is your chance. You can perform your own simulated enucleation with common household objects! It's easy, and I'll show you how.
It all starts with a grape. Preferably a peeled grape, if you have the patience. Find yourself a little cocktail sword (one of the plastic ones that people use to skewer Fake Polynesian Style Meatballs would probably be best), and stick it into the end of the grape. Then take a latex glove, and stick the grape, sword-end first, into one of the fingers and poke the sword out through the tip. Got it? Good. Now fill the glove with salsa. If it's leaking out the sword-hole, that's fine. It adds realism.
Now find the smallest child's sippy-cup you can. Make sure that the sipping hole is smaller than your grape. Mix up a batch of red-flavored jello, put the glove in the cup, and pour the jello into the cup around the glove. Put the lid on, and pull the cuff out the sippy-hole. Set this in your fridge until the jello is nice and set.
Okay - so: the cup is the socket, the grape is the eye, and the glove is the nice safe connective tissue around it. The cocktail sword is the nerve and blood vessel, and the jello is All The Crap In The Socket They Don't Tell You Is There In The Textbook.
Ready for surgery? Then get yourself a pair of scissors. Now comes the fun part - slide the scissors down through the sippy-hole, but *outside* the glove, around between the jello and the glove, and to the back tip. Then slide your fingers down the other side of the sippy-hole until you can feel the grape. Hold it still, and use the scissors to cut the cocktail sword in half without damaging the glove, the grape, or the cup, then pull everything out the sippy-hole. Do not, under any circumstances, allow any of the salsa or jello to ooze out of the cup, or mush the jello around to the point where it becomes liquid again.
What? Your fingers don't fit in through the sippy-hole? Funny thing, that. Just.... push, and wiggle, and try not to spill too much red stuff. Or you could just feel around with the scissors, and hope. For extra fun, set a ticking timer next to you during the whole procedure. And when you're done, try not to trhow anything on the floor, or stomp, or shout. Cursing, however, is very much allowed. Creativity gets you extra points.
So. That was my day today, or at least a large part of it. I love my glamorous job. Of course, the cup-game does not give you the extra added actual bonus of having a happy, living, pain-free patient at the end of it, complete with waggy tail and puppy-kisses, and it probably isn't quite as rewarding in the end. But I do have to keep some bits of the profession to myself, or else it wouldn't quite be as special anymore...
no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 04:54 am (UTC)(more seriously, ick. sorry you had to deal with that. learning experience, eh?)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 04:59 am (UTC)Um, wait, maybe not such a good idea ...
no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 05:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 01:11 pm (UTC)But, hey, you did good (and remember the one I mentioned doing in school, for class? the surgeon in our group for that one managed to cut into the globe itself - not fun.)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 01:44 pm (UTC)How very...vivid...for first thing in the morning.
Things in my life to be glad of #38725: While jello is occasionally part of my professional life, I very rarely have to perform surgery in it.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 03:30 pm (UTC)It's also funny as hell. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-12 11:15 pm (UTC)Note to self...
Date: 2005-11-13 03:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 02:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 06:15 pm (UTC)It is an interesting procedure, and I hope my description wasn't too gory. I'm glad to provide an explanation, though. And you've got me contemplating the surgical applications of a melon-baller... :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-18 11:52 pm (UTC)Thank you -- your journal is one of the main reasons why it's worth trying to follow my friends list, even when I'm horribly behind. Postings like this never get old.
Of course, having picked up watching Mythbusters the past couple of weeks (a fine thing to have in the background while I'm packing the living room), I'm envisioning a TV show where they demonstrate medicine using these sorts of analogies. Seems right up the Discovery Channel's alley...
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 09:26 pm (UTC)