Heptadecagon

Chris had been feeling a little uncomfortable all day Wednesday, but at 38 and a half weeks pregnant, I'd guess that's the normal way to feel. We'll pick up the story around 11 pm, when contractions were about five minutes apart, but according to Chris, didn't feel like they were contractions of the entire uterus. I have no uterus, so I can only write what she described, and that's how she explained them to me. Oh, and another thing: this post will use the word "uterus," and other words that cause queasiness among beer-swilling men. If this sort of talk upsets you, skip all the words and scroll to the bottom of the post for the baby pictures. But back to the uterus (UTERUS!). I had noticed that the contractions kind of followed the scheme of one big one, and then two smaller ones, all spaced about five minutes apart. I don't really know for certain if this was what was happening; I was just trying to estimate the strength of the contraction by ob...

I really, really shouldn't admit to dreaming up this joke. Watch carefully -- I'm about to do something stupid: Joe: I think my urologist is a pessimist. Bill: What makes you think that? Joe: He told me my bladder is half-empty. Thank you. I'll be here all week. Please be sure to tip the wait-staff generously.

To wrap up a little unfinished business, here are some photographs from the heart dissection. There was no squeamishness from Z&T about touching the heart, putting their fingers inside the chambers, and even about cutting parts of it open by themselves. On the contrary, they were almost as excited about this as Chris was. But they did ask if the cow from which the heart came was still alive.

This happened around Halloween 2007. The recounting below is from an email message I sent to a few friends. Warning: this is what happens when you marry a physiologist. I've pieced together the dialogue as best as I recall. As many of you know, Chris teaches anatomy and physiology part-time at the Community College. On Wednesday night, she came home from class with a large paper bag from Dorothy Lane Market --- sort of the equivalent of Merchant of Vino, for the Ann Arborites in the audience --- and was abundantly excited about the contents of the bag. She told me to guess what she had. I was thinking brownies, cake, or cookies. Maybe sushi. Hopefully something with chocolate. Chris reached inside the paper bag, and pulled out a large zip-lock plastic bag containing something about the size and shape of a football, except that it had blood vessels transversing its surface, and one region near the bottom was covered in yellow fatty tissue. You didn't have to be a bi...