Part of the mandatory requirements for the cadaver course I took in high school (go read here if you don't know what I'm talking about) were two parents' nights. The first one had great repercussions leading me to believe you should always avoid doing your best work, unless you know that no one will find out it was you...
The night of the first presentation was what you would expect...rundown of the highlights, say some thank yous to the people who donated to us, give some awards to people that were especially helpful in fasciliating our program...but the best part was showing off our handywork.
My parents came in and checked out Lucy for a minute or two before Dad got too queasy to take it anymore. Guess he can deal with the dying, just not the dead. Apparently he damn near faints at the sight of blood too (not that there was any)... are we sure I'm related to him? Anyhow, Dad went next door to examine more pleasant sundries ... the cookies and punch ... while Mom jealously investigated our cadavers.
'You're getting a better gross anatomy class than I ever got in school!' she bitterly protested, while still somehow proud of me. Now you tell me that's not scary... a bunch of high school students get more up close and personal time with the inner workings of human anatomy than someone paid to actually care for your health and well-being? YIKES!
But just when I thought I could escape the night in triumph with something to hold not one but both of my parents ... reality set in...
There had been enough opportunity for a parent-teacher conference from which I was unknowingly absent. Being the loving, kind, caring, adoring instructor that she is, she talked up my talents. She told them how I stayed late, never let anything get in my way, and did fantastic detail work, carefully removing fat and connective tissue from muscles, nerves, veins, and arteries. At this point I imagine my parents looked at one another quizzically... this could not be their daughter she was speaking of... their daughter wouldn't load the dishwasher because the task was 'too icky.' She reassured them that nothing about Lucy was too icky for me....
And with my girly cover forever blown, I did the dishes from then on....
Posted by Princess Cat at August 15, 2005 08:12 AM @ 08:12 AM in Good Times // Permalink | TrackBack