i have two corns on my feet; one under each foot.

i hear the best cure for corns is to gradually burn them off with creams containing salicylic acid, but since i had no access to corn creams just now, i improvised by using garnier blemish remover, which i remember at one point used to work rather well on my pimples. after i peeled off the top layer of dead skin and rubbed in the pimple cream (why does this sound bad? hmm.) i realised that i couldn't walk about as the corns were under my feet. that was an unacceptable inconvenience, so i got my sister to deliver the dressings she uses on her knee grazes, but unfortunately they were all of the wrong size.

my failure at self-medication reminded me of the time mandy slashed my palm in primary school, and miss juan tried to bandage it up. except that she couldn't, because i have sweaty palms which are aggravated by situations of anxiety and trauma.

i think sweaty palms are disgusting, and so last night i dreamt that i was in an operating theatre being prepped for surgery to get rid of them. that's because yesterday during anat prac a professor pointed to the sympathetic ganglion on a dissected standing cadaver and said that's the part which you cut off to cure sweaty palms. and the cadaver was one of the freaky ones which they keep in glass containers filled with thick, clear cadaver juice, plus the ganglion was stained yellow so it looked like a sick little jandiced spider. maybe i have been traumatised for life.

and surely, freudian theory would link this to some kind of childhood emotional insecurity, which might be plausible considering nobody wants to be the kid who can't have a plaster stuck on her palm because it's too sweaty.

on thursday we had this lecturer who told us that we are all useless medical students because when he asked "who's read samuel beckett?" nobody raised their hands. he then proceeded to lecture us on how samuel beckett epitomises the core of humanity, and that doctors must not just be about books. which i found amusing because i fail to see how samuel beckett can be anybody's idea of the human spirit. also, i didn't like the lecturer's tone; you could tell he was annoyed at having to waste his time on such imbecilic creatures as us.

and here was the irony, because it's not like we had nothing better to do than sit through another one of our five daily lectures. joshua came up with this stupid medjoke of a term: "Knowledge Perfusion Rate", which is basically the geek's way of ranking how much and how fast you learn from different lecturers. this one's KPR was negative, which means that we not only learnt nothing, but also became more confused than we were at the start. birth was the death of him. haha.