aberrant anatomy

Things are hotting up round here with the construction of the website. In the last three or four weeks I’ve half written two blog entries but just not had time to complete and upload them. Let’s try the one that only made it to a sketch in my head, back at the beginning of May:

I have just finished a stint of work as a sample patient for a bunch of anaesthetists learning to inject anaesthetic with the use of ultrasound. This did not involve either being injected or being anaesthetised, but I did get to see rather a lot of my own insides.

You see, when an anaesthetist injects, they are aiming either into the vein or very close to the nerve (depending on what body part they have to anaesthetise) – but the veins, the nerves and the arteries all sit very close to each other. Miss the vein, and the patient will not sleep. Hit the nerve and you could kill the limb… for good. Get the tip of the needle not quite between the required fascial planes and you’ll numb either the wrong part or nothing much. Hit the artery and you get all sorts of nastiness, up to and including death. It’s all a matter of millimetres and – here’s the real crunch – no two bodies are exactly the same. Most people are more or less according to the anatomy textbooks; about 20% are not. Really, it’s amazing they don’t have more failures than they do, since up until recently they’ve been working blind.

But in the last decade or so, with advances in computer technology, they’ve begun to use ultrasound imaging to actually look where they’re going in a body as they put the needle in – a revolution in knockout jobs. The black and white image of veins, arteries, bones, organs, muscles, etcetera, that comes up on the screen is difficult to read until you know what you’re looking at/for, hence the need to conduct workshops and hire body models to sit around all day being coated in ultrasound gel.

And I have to say, it was truly fascinating, because often I could see the screen and follow the tutorial with the medicos, and I learned a lot, not only about the science of anaesthesia and the character of anaesthetists (modest, mild-mannered and moderate is my impression) but about my own internal layout. On the right side, I am pretty much according to the text books. On the left, however, I am an anaesthetist’s nightmare. I have two femoral arteries, two brachial arteries, and the brachial nerve plexus branches early, before the groove into which the anaesthetic is normally injected to numb the arm, so to get a proper block the aberrant branch would have to be numbed by injecting the muscle it passes through. Originally, I also had an os trigonum on the left side, an extra bone in the ankle joint, but it was removed while I was with the Australian Ballet (extra bones in dancers’ ankles are a real nuisance). My conclusion about all this, given what else I know of my heredity, is that my mother was a normal human being but my father is most probably an alien.

13 thoughts on “aberrant anatomy

  1. It’s what we were brought up to believe, of course (that our mother was normal and our father is an alien). But every once in a while a fleeting thought freaks me out – what if it’s actually Mum who was the alien, and Dad was/is normal?

    Aaak! If normality is Dad, the world is crazier than I thought!!

    And just incidentally, it also makes me wonder about what weird abnormalities might be in *my* body…

  2. Clare, we’re talking about a man who has been saving foil chip packets for many years because in his dotage he plans to heat-seal them together into a great big balloon to carry him into oblivion (or at least to hell in a handbasket). Wonderful or terrible he may be, but he ain’t normal.

  3. I agree. But compare that with a woman who so longed for 1930s English girls’ school stories to be real that she joined a group dedicated to acting them out 70 years later. It’s a vexed question as to which of the two is more escapist.

    Shall we throw it open to other readers? :-) Dare we expose the full insanity of our heritage?

  4. Sadly or not, I have nothing like your experiences to compete with, except for the time my parents picked me up at Brisbane airport after a holiday at my grandparents’ place near Cairns, and I was convinced they’d been replaced with functionally perfect simulacra. I was probably about ten. I never found out for sure.

    But to the original subject here – fascinating! I never imagined (though now that I think about it, I’ve had hints) that people were as unalike on the inside as on the out. Despite having watched Dead Ringers a couple of times.

    And a very interesting branch of work you’ve discovered! I did some sunscreen testing for cash, years ago – being slathered, sitting in a pool for hours whilst undergoing periodic UV irradiation… Not nearly as educational as yours.

  5. You know James, the impression (often post-traumatic) that your parents had been replaced by functional simulacra is a condition sufficiently common to be widely discussed in psychiatric literature (try googling “parents had been replaced”)… i’m sure it has a medical name but a few minutes research hasn’t turned it up.

    On the other hand, it did turn up all sorts of oddities… you can be sure you’ll never be as confused as this poor child may well become in later life. I don’t know if her two faces act simultaneously/identically, ie, are controlled by one ‘mind’ or if they work separately, implying some duplication/splitting of the brain as well.

  6. I wasn’t blogging when Clare made her quite unfounded remarks about me and have only just discovered them. How can she say I am an Alien when she knows that I am Mr Average to seven decimal places. Doesn’t everybody want to build a balloon? Isn’t a desire to fly part of the human psyche?

  7. Well, actually, Dad, Jaqi said it first. But given that the word “alien” comes from the Latin word meaning “other”, the defining characteristic of an alien is obviously difference from those around them. And since you’ve always prided yourself on being different (I’d dare to claim that out of all the people that want to build a balloon, you’re the only one that wants to do it with used chip packets!), you can hardly object to being labelled an alien :-)

    PS. Going to seven decimal places isn’t common, either!

  8. Well, 2.5 years later, here I am again. I think I have enough chips packets and could make the inner bag of the balloon but what is holding me up is the perceived labour of making the outer, sort of spherical, fishnet bag to make sure that the inner doesn’t split apart. I think I need a diameter of about 9 metres but final size will depend on an audit of the packets. I’ll do the heat sealing. Any volunteers for the bag (about a 10cm square mesh)?

  9. I reckon its a fun idea and certainly worth a YouTube post and just the thought of the girls horror as you make the six o’clock news has me grinning with delight.

    Can we not just buy a large sheet of square cut nylon fishnet and wrap it around the inner chip balloon. The corners then could support the basket(case).

    If I can help, you got it. Us aliens got to stick together -LOL.

  10. Our horror when he hits the news will be vastly inferior to our shame at having him end up as an entry in the next Darwin Awards book!

    As for the net, I’m thinking something like tennis court netting would be about right.

    Dad, does Elaine know about this yet? Don’t tell me that’s a journey you *haven’t* invited her on!!

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