A Rat Not to be Toyed With
Today was the day for my rat brain surgery. I've got to say, I'm pretty impressed with my rat. You may recall that my rat was the most well-behaved rat--was being the operative word. When I went down to the basement of Bates today, it was pretty obvious that my rat was not in a good mood. He rushed eagerly to the lid of his container when I opened it, he tried to jump out several times. when I picked him up firmly behind the shoulders, he twisted around with gaping rat-jaws, trying to get a chunk of my hand for himself. I can't say that I blame him. As you may know, a patient scheduled for surgery cannot eat food for a certain amount of time beforehand, for their own safety. If I go for 3 hours without eating, I'm already getting cranky. These guys hadn't been fed for 15 hours.
That, and I imagine what it must have been like, sitting in that plastic cage, all your rat comrades fine the first day, and then the next day they've got staples in their head and nasty looking scabs. I'd be a little disconcerted. So perhaps my rat had been planning ever since then. He'd become famous in the lab for knocking the lid off the weighing boat . . .
But today was the day: I had to shave his head, make one clean slice from between his eyes to the back of his head with a scalpel, pull the scalp back with clamps and drill a tiny hole in his skull to make room for a tiny needle which would deposit 0.5 microliters of ibotenic acid onto a specific portion of his brain, to lesion it. Then sew him all back up and give him painkillers until he healed. So many plans for one little rat. . . but first I had to give him anethesia. . . .
First you have to place the rat on a smooth floor, grab him by the base of the tail, and spin him around like a mop until he's dizzy enough to receive an injection. I botched the first injection: I didn't get the needle into the skin far enough, and so I spurted pain killer all over the rat. My professor still gave me enouragement, and the 2nd attempt was near beautiful. I had to pinch his belly skin a little, and inject the needle with enough pressure to get it to POP through the skin.
3 doses later my rat was still fiesty. Woozy enough to shave though. . . . yes, I had to shave my rat's head, which wouldn't have been so bad except that we were using an electric shearer far wider than the space between the rat's ears, and a rat's eyes bulge out dangerously, leaving me with nightmares of popping one like a tapioca pearl. scary.
We waited, and waited for my rat, and Nicole's rat, to fall completely under. But they never did. Mine especially. He's fiesty I tell you! So today won't be the day I lesion his brain. . . I'm pretty happy about that honestly. But now it's just put off till next week, and for now he'll have to live with a really bad haircut. . ..
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