I'm an unlicensed MD

I'm medically curious. I can't help it. I can't stand to think there's a disease, a procedure, a condition, or an affliction that I don't truly understand. I am best friends with WebMD. I have enough knowledge to be truly dangerous. Going back to previous thoughts...my frienship with the internet...I "Google" every medically related topic I can think of. I don't even know why I do this, and it doesn't even have to be a condition of MINE. All I need to do is hear about it and I get that panicy feeling until I've consulted my sources. Maybe this is a form of OCD...maybe psychosis...ok, at least nerosis. You see what happens. I'm like a junkie needing a fix. My friend Annette calls me for my unlicensed medical advice. She knows, that if I DON'T know the answer, I'll be looking it up in mere moments. And then all the related topics.

Yet, I could have never been a doctor. I hated the lab classes. I avoided them like the plague (another disease) until I could no longer hide. It's pretty tough to avoid lab classes when you are at UCSD as a Biology major with an emphasis in Biochemistry. So, here's what I did. I opted for the least invasive class I could. It was called Biochemical Techniques. It didn't involved fetal pigs or pregnant frogs. There was no cutting involved at all. All we had to do, was mix chemicals and chart the results. Simple enough. Here's what happened during that quarter in hell! I barely survived. I hated that class and whined and complained every Tu/Th for 10 weeks. I hated washing those beakers and felt entitled to a lab assistant to do it for me. I never cared enough to get all the soap out so while everyone else's "product" - (that's what they called the result of mixing chemicals) turned orange, mine would be black. If they got black, mine would be clear. If their chart was a straight line up, mine was some sort of parabolic arc. Thank goodness for the written final. It saved me. Honestly, the difference between a ml or 2 mls...not enough for me to lose sleep over. But it was five hours, twice a week and that was just for prep. Then, you had to come back at some ungodly, dark hour, lurking through the building to check your results. I was scared to death every time I had to walk across that dark plaza, past the big fountain and into the catacombs of hell that they called Biochem Techniques.

How did we ever survive without the internet? I don't know if I have a single thought that I don't run by my sources. How's that for conviction?