Drowning on Dry Land

As part of our freshman zoology class, each of us is required to cut open a dead, i.e., preserved in formalin, frog, analyze its anatomy and memorize as many muscles and internal organs as you possibly can in every laboratory sessions. We are given the opportunity to choose our own frogs from a gazillion pieces of poor preserved frogs whose bright futures had been dimmed for the progress of science. In theory, I want my men to be slim, tall and presentable, and they must have a pleasing personality. This is probably the reason why I chose Russell, the baptized name of my unfortunate frog, to become my specimen in that zoology class.

This page is dedicated to the memory of the brave frogs and froggets that gave their lives for the sake of science and our education. We are forever in your debt. This one’s for you.

(This foreword originally appears in this site; www.hoala.org/marine%20biology/frog%20dissection.html. Step-by-step frog dissection is likewise presented in the aforementioned site.)


(Russell Crowe images courtesy of http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1800353749/photo/stills)

Russell was tall and presentable, and he was slim. He has this face that projects a tortured image of an amphibian who is preserved against his will. His face is that of anguish, his eyes scream injustice, almost as if he’ll break out in tears when my scalpel touches his tummy. Though bestiality has never been a preference of mine, I felt a sheer closeness to my new friend, who I never want to part with.

Truly, my choice of men sucks. Slim tall frogs are the least preferred specimens in zoology classes. This is because dissecting them does not show good anatomical details. In zoology, fat, chubby, edematous frogs are always in the A-list of good anatomists.

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Warning:

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The following may be too graphic for certain readers. May I suggest that all frog lovers, who may consider dissection to be post mortem mutilation, and are about to view the following, take into consideration the scientific knowledge derived from the deaths of these animals. I love frogs and appreciate their sacrifice. I hold these animals in the most solemn regard and mean no disrespect to the dead. Continue if you feel completely secure with this knowledge.

(This word of caution likewise originally appears on this site; www.hoala.org/marine%20biology/frog%20dissection.html.)

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Then the cutting portion commences, I took Russell out of the black bag to reveal him bathing in a plastic jar, cold and lifeless. I took him out and pressed his limbs against the board with push-pins. I started dissecting his tummy—tears flowing down our eyes—until we reach his innards. Then I found multiple tiny black ovoid particles dotted with canary yellow specks—it was like ube buchi with sesame seeds (sorry for the comparison). Thence I knew that Russell was really not the man for me.


(Source: www.hoala.org/marine%20biology/frog%20dissection.html.)

For Russell was clearly (homosexual, er…) a female. Yup, Russell was not the Russell Crowe of every woman’s dream, but more of a Keri Russell like in Felicity. During that dissection session, I slashed her tummy as if she’s a bread or something, ripped off her jaw, pierced every muscle of her leg, and skinned his whole body like peeling a banana (in the name of science, of course). And yup, out of rage, I perfected that dissection class; I aced my practical examination; and scored well in my long exams. Then I knew (and learned) that anger is such a good positive motivation.



















Not this Russell.




















But this Russell.

(Russell Crowe images courtesy of http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1800353749/photo/stills. Keri Russell images from www.felicitypage.com)

I love frogs, I really do. Male or female frogs—they’re all the same to me. When we analyze rabbit’s eyes and cat’s testes during microbiology class, I felt nothing but an ecstatic informational orgasm. Though curiosity in our class is highly valued, I think it is temperance that prevailed when I did not ask our professors how they obtained the rat’s spermatozoa in that microscope slide!


(Cadaver picture from http://sitemaker.umich.edu/umpire/umpire_fellowship)

Such events fill me with so much nostalgia. I could still imagine the scent of formalin in our microbiology laboratory. The awry event when a Petri dish containing hemolytic (blood-digesting) bacteria was insufflated in the entire microbiology class. The musky scent of formaldehyde in the anatomy lab as we inspect and pinch human cadavers and wonder why they turned that brown. The way we watch autopsies and wonder if they consented to doing so (hehe). And the way we speculate whose diseased lungs, cancerous uteruses and penises, and aborted fetuses are present in those pretty ornamental glass containers.

And by the look of it, I really do miss nursing school.


(Image from http://www.kufur-kassem.com/cms/images/stories/hand_drowning.jpg)

But as we know, life is not always rosy. Eventually we have to leave the confines of our school, the swamp of learning, and out into the real world, the marshland of existence. We compete, we fend for ourselves, and we provide for our needs. Just like frogs. And yes, even if shallow waters can submerge our minds and spirit, the real quest to stay alive and avoid drowning, even in dry land.


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The posted images are copyrights of their respective owners and the author does not, in any way, claims the ownership of the aforementioned images. The original links are posted respectively for reference.