Fear. My. Wrath.

This hasn't been the most productive of weekends, but I guess work is getting done. I've gone over the cardiac anatomy that I'll have to know for this upcoming week's dissection, plowed through all of the cardiac physiology notes, and am currently taking a break from working on our DPS (doctor, patient, and society) practical. MERP ran DPS a lot more smoothely - they had us research the methodology of the history and physical, interview classmates who had made-up illnesses, and then hand in what was supposed to be a polished HPI, complete with personal, social and family histories, and chief complaints. Here, instead of anything so dynamic and integrative, we were merely told to come up with a patient on our own (after being told that he or she will complain of "chest pain"), and then, in class on Monday, we are to hand-write the interview, providing both questions and answers. We were told that a good paper consists of 50 questions, so I'm not convinced that they'll read every single one with too much detail. I'll do mine well, and get it out of the way - it's not teaching me how to do a correct history and physical, or enlightening me concerning the differential diagnoses that surround as nebulous a complaint as "chest pain"; it is merely something to do well and get out of the way, so I can go do some cardio questions, review hematopoesis, and preread for all things respiratory. That, however, is not the reason why anyone should fear my wrath.

I consider myself a fairly even-keeled person - I have no trouble looking at both sides of a situation, and can easily place myself in the shoes of another. I try to let most things just slide, preferring not to get too worked up over pittances; they're usually not worth my attention, and I usually forget about them soon enough. Thus, I'm not a wrathful, bellicose individual. There is, however, one thing that will skyrocket me from placid to irrationally infuriated in a matter of milliseconds - being awakened by someone who is being too loud. I don't know what it is; it's like there's a slavering, hellish monstrosity caged behind my eyes, and the over-loud noise that somehow penetrates my slumber hits just the right tones to unlock that cage and set free the monstrosity. I wake up with my blood boiling. Generally, I sit and listen for a while, hoping that it'll die down - rarely does this happen to me, but it happened last night.

I was deep asleep - pleasantly so; Saturday night is one of 2 during the week when I can actually count on a blessed minimum of 8 hours, at least. So at 2:11 am, I hear someone talking at the top of their lungs. One thing about my apartment - sounds seem magnified; the way the balcony walls are built turns them into an effective bullhorn, funneling sound into my room. I'm on the third floor, and it sounds like the dogs running through the grass are just below my window; when people are talking normally on the trail beside my building, I can hear their every word. Last night, I walked out onto my balcony to see how far away this person was, and they were the next balcony over. I slapped my hand against the wall to get his attention, and asked him to quiet down. This guy didn't even respond. So, I very amicably left my apartment, and went and pounded on his door. He must have been still talking, or maybe he didn't hear me - no answer. I went back to my apartment and stewed for 10, maybe 15 minutes, and then went back and pounded on his door, louder this time. My heart was pounding like it was getting me ready for a fight - I could feel my pulse in my head, and distantly recalled something about sympathetic stimulation jacking up one's heart rate (beta one receptors) and clamping down on peripheral vessels (alpha one receptors - ever the med student) in anticipation of fight or flight. I banged on this guy's door a third time - apparently, he didn't want to come out, but I sure as hell wasn't going to go away; I'd already (perhaps irrationally, I know) decided that I'd stand out there banging on his door and keeping him up all night if need be. Third try, the door opens - and I tell this guy that I'd appreciate it if he would never be that loud, this late, ever again. I didn't scream, I didn't shout, but I didn't ask - I think, subconsciously, the "I would appreciate" part is thrown in so that my argument looks good on paper. He stares at me dumbly for a few seconds, and then says "Well I'm here, I'm having a good time, so whatever."

That being the case, the gentleman is lucky it ended how it did. I merely told him what I expected him to do, and left it at that, instead of risking a physical altercation - but that made me so mad I couldn't get back to sleep for half an hour. On Monday, I'm going to go file a formal complaint with the management, and I'm going to lay it out exactly as it happened. I hope they kick him out.

Anyway, I'm going to a study session later on today with Nicole, Glynis (our favorite med student/ PA), and Eddie, a Ph.D in inorganic chemistry who, prior to teaching at some university, worked at the Los Alamos nuclear plant. Needless to say, it'll be interesting, and hopefully quite useful. We start respiratory physiology tomorrow, and a week from Friday there will be a histology lab practical AND an anatomy practical - time to crack my knuckles, grit my teeth, and get down to business.