As a terminated, over-the-hill computer operator I never dreamed that I’d have an opportunity so late in life to strut down the halls of a major medical center as a world renowned breast surgeon, barking out orders on my way to scrubbing up for a mastopexy.
Up until now, all those years of drinking, bong smoking and my worthless junior college transcript relegated me to a life of dirty, low-paying jobs and the accompanying low self esteem. Going to medical school wasn’t even on my radar screen until the sagging economy, a shortage of new physicians and skyrocketing malpractice premiums made it possible for me to reach up and grab the brass ring. And thanks to a deal with the Instituto Tecnológico de Santo Domingo Escuela de Medicina, anyone can earn an advanced degree from the comfort of their living room – even medical school. Using an old 386 Dell PC and a dial-up modem connection to the Instituto, in 12 short weeks I became Allen Smith, M.D.
Getting started was easier than I thought. I spoke with Carmen to determine which of 14 specialties I was interested in exploring: neurosurgery, ophthalmology, gastroenterology, OB/GYN, podiatry, orthopedics, colon and rectal surgery, pathology, radiation oncology, thoracic surgery, anesthesiology, dermatology, plastic surgery or urology. After a few more questions, Carmen took my Visa card number, address and told me I could expect my medical school starter kit in 7 to 10 working days. No college transcript, proof of MCATs or letters of recommendation required. Even the textbooks and lab fees were included in the $79.95 tuition.
As promised, my kit arrived by UPS and contained a lab coat (with my name stenciled over the pocket), stethoscope, sphygmomanometer, a few jars filled with cotton balls, tongue depressors and one of those shiny circular discs you wear over your forehead. Federal law prohibited the school from mailing me hypodermic needles, scalpels and Metzenbaum scissors but they were able to send me a Buckley Retractor, two pairs of Weitlaner-Loktites, a 14.5″ Bone Rongeur and a Pederson Vaginal Speculum. My wife informed me that I wouldn’t be using the latter on her any time soon, so I had to track down our cat when the time came for my OB/GYN rotation.
After the first week, my cadaver arrived in a 165 lb. FedEx box while I was at the Food Stamp Office. Normally, I’d be concerned about leaving such a valuable commodity unattended in the hallway, but the “Biological Warning!!!! Human Cadaver” sticker on the outside of the box kept my neighbors at bay until I was able to drag it into the living room – soon to become Surgical Suite #1. In the meantime, I had to throw out all of my wife’s Jenny Craig meals to make room in the refrigerator for the dismembered torso, arms, legs and head. My first quiz was to see if I could put the six parts together properly.
My second week was the equivalent of the second year of medical school and included anatomy, biochemistry, physiology, histology, pathology, pharmacology and microbiology. I learned how to conduct a comprehensive medical history and a physical and rectal examination on myself. By following the easy to read Spanish instructions on the school’s website, I pretended to suffer from Genital Retraction Syndrome and performed a colonoscopy on myself. I didn’t have a colonoscope, but I was able to build one from an old table lamp in the garage using the provided DVD, “How to Convert Common Household Appliances into Expensive Medical Diagnostic Equipment.”
The next week, I rotated between neurosurgery, ophthalmology, gastroenterology, OB/GYN, podiatry, orthopedics, pathology, radiation oncology, thoracic surgery, anesthesiology, dermatology and plastic surgery – all online. Each lesson was followed by a grueling 10-item multiple-choice test and a series of coloring book assignments. By the fourth week, I knew I wanted to specialize in breast augmentation, so the school sent me everything I needed to set up a small plastic surgery practice, including half a dozen saline breast implants. I wasn’t even going to ask my wife if she’d let me practice on her, so once again, I went looking for the cat. She was still pissed at me from the vaginal examination that went wrong last week.
To make the surgeries more realistic, the Instituto sent me a Hasbro “Operation” game, accompanied by 4 DD batteries and a touch screen computer program that included patients shrieking and retching in the background, a nurse screaming in my ear and continuous hospital announcements in Spanish, droning from a public address system. They even shipped me an EKG monitor that would occasionally flat line throughout the procedures. To enhance the realism, I emptied jars containing bile, urine, vomit, 3-day-old blood, gastric juice, mucus, sweat and semen on the floor to give my surgical suite the authentic feel and smell of a real operating room.
Every Monday was “clinic day.” The Instituto sent me an unmarked box with some type of body part ravaged by an unknown disease. It was up to me to examine it, take tissue samples and send biopsies back to the school laboratory with the correct diagnosis. Disorders ranged from simple cases of genital herpes to Blue Skin Disorder, Blasko’s lines, Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva, Exploding Head Syndrome and Aquagenic Urticaria.
Week 9 was the equivalent of the third year of medical school – usually the most difficult. The Instituto took steps to insure that I was sleep deprived with 20 hour work days on top of my usual load of classes. To help me get by, they sent me diet pills, steroids, antidepressants and a selection of black market drugs like cocaine, amphetamines and methamphetamines – the same things traditional medical students use to get through their schooling.
I finally made it to week 12 where I was required to work with real patients. Since I can’t drive, the Instituto let me do my final rounds in my apartment building looking for rare, undisclosed diseases in the tenants. I visited Lyman Finwall, Zebidiah Beckermann, Agatha Blaustein and Moses Applebaum. Lyman was missing his nose, Zebidiah suffered from Shingles, Agatha vomited whenever I touched her and Moses thought I was his wife who passed away 20 years ago, so it was just like a real doctor’s office.
Achieving my medical degree has turned out to be one of the high points of my life – even though I had to take the final 12 times. Had I not been fired from my previous job, I probably would never have embarked on such a big change in careers at 73. Although I see most of my patients in my apartment, I spend one day a month at the VA Hospital in Higbie Corners, Texas. While I don’t get to do many breast augmentations on the male veterans, I’m just happy to have a new career. Thank you, Instituto Tecnológico de Santo Domingo Escuela de Medicina!
