Doctor in the House Read Online Free PDF

academic Captain Bligh. He was one of the country’s most learned anatomists, and his views on the evolution of the hyoid bone in the throat were quoted to medical students in dissecting rooms from San Francisco to Sydney. His learned distinction was unappreciated by his students, however, all of whom were terrified of him.
    He had several little unnerving peculiarities. For some reason the sight of a student walking into the medical school with his hands in his pockets enraged him. His private room was next to the main entrance, so it was convenient for him to shoot out and seize by the shoulders any man he saw through the window sauntering into the building in this way. He would shake him and abuse him thoroughly for some minutes before stepping back into his room to watch for the next one. This habit was thought unpleasant by the students, but nothing could be done about it because the Professor, who controlled the examinations, held the power of justice at all levels in the anatomy school.
    The Professor appeared suddenly in the dissecting room through his private entrance. The hum of conversation at the tables immediately ceased and was replaced by serious, silent, activity.
    He stood for some moments looking at his new class narrowly. The sight apparently did not please him, He grunted, and drawing a sheet of paper from the pocket of his white coat called a roll of our names in a voice rough with disgust. He was a tall thin man, shaped like a bullet. His bald head rose to a pointed crown and his body sloped outwards gently to his tiny feet far below. He wore a mangy ginger beard.
    He put the list of names back in his pocket.
    ‘Now listen to me, you fellows,’ he began sternly. ‘You’ve got to work in this department, d’you understand? I’m not going to put up with any slacking for a moment. Anatomy’s tough – you can’t learn it unless you put your backs into it. Any laziness here, and…’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Out! See?’
    We nodded nervously, like a squad of recruits listening to their first drill sergeant.
    ‘And I don’t want to see any of you men slopping round with your hands in your pockets. It’s all right for errand boys and pimps, but you’re supposed to be medical students. The attitude is not only unanatomical but gives you osteoarthritis of the shoulder girdle in your middle age. No wonder you all grow up into a hunchbacked crowd of deformities! I know I’m ugly, but I can stand up straight, which is more than some of you people. Do you follow me?’
    We assented briskly.
    ‘Right. Well, get on with some work. The list of parts for dissection is up on the board at the end there.’
    With a final glare he disappeared through his door.
    I had been allotted a leg for my first term’s work. We dissected in pairs, two men to each part. My partner was a student called Benskin – a large, sandy-haired man who wore under his white coat a green check shirt and a red tie with little yellow dogs on it.
    ‘What ho,’ said Benskin.
    ‘Good morning,’ I replied politely.
    ‘Are you conversant with the mysteries of anatomical dissection?’ he asked.
    ‘No. Not at all.’
    ‘Nor I.’
    We looked at each other silently for a few seconds.
    ‘Perhaps we had better read the instructions in the dissecting manual,’ I suggested.
    We sat down on a pair of high wooden stools and propped the book against the dead thigh on the table in front of us. After turning over several preliminary pages we reached a drawing of a plump leg with bold red lines over it.
    ‘That seems to be our skin incision,’ I said, pointing to one of the lines. ‘Will you start, or shall I?’
    Benskin waved a large hand generously.
    ‘Go ahead,’ he said.
    I drew a breath, and lightly touched the greasy rough skin. With my new scalpel I made a long sweeping incision.
    ‘I think I’ve cut the wrong thing,’ I said, glancing at the book.
    ‘It doesn’t look quite like the picture,’ Benskin