The American Telephone

I am a subsriber of Urology Clinics of North America. Very professional journal that I will never ever ever publish in (not that I am much of a publisher, medically speaking). Anyway, the subscription has expired and I get billed for renewal. The Clinics (as it is called by the connoisseur) get delivered quartely (makes four small books annually) and they cost 135 $ per year. Discounted rate. The undiscounted rate was billed, and so I call to enquire about the discount (I am a resident and don't want to pay 270 $ for FOUR magazine, 135 is crazy already, mind u). There I am, calling a person at the other end of the world who answers the phone in the most friendly way imaginable, introducing herself as Nadine and I, intuitively, introduce myself by my first name. Two things now: I like her voice, and recent research has pointed out that a woman's voice truly reflects her sexual attraction. Ahem. Hers is very sensual. Second, a lot can be said against Americans, but oh, it is so very very nice to do business with people who speak with a kind word......

The first set

And there you have it. Which was, incidentally, the end from an ancient rapsong called, ahem, "The Art of Sucking Dick", artist forgotten. Which it might better be, anyway.
This, however, you have. The first of a series of stunning and-not-so stunning tales, medical and otherwise, from my life, that outsiders and healthprofessionals alike could describe as sedantary (is that the word ? I am sitting a lot, that is).

Auscultation marks

I am studying for the Dutch Urology Board Exam. It is due in three weeks, and I already spent a fair amount of time on leisurely reading. Now comes a phase of cramming - reading it over and over again until you can't stomach it any more. However, this gives rise to weird creativity. Some time ago, in an aged lecture-hall in London, GB, a faint student scribbling on the desk read "Hit me with your stethoscope until the auscultation marks bleed".