Sprained ankles, migraine headaches, venereal diseases. Where do you go to ease the pain? Where do you go for relief from a bad case of the stomach flu? Where do you go when you find yourself impaled on the horns of an angry steer? I think we all know the answer to these questions: Student Health.

When Iowa State’s Student Health facilities were erected during the Middle Ages, many doubted the medical knowledge of its founders and the methods they employed. And with good reason.

The tools displayed at the Student Health of the late 12th Century were far different from those at hospitals or clinics of the modern era. In fact, many of their tools were rudimentary even for that time. A visitor to Student Health with a broken finger might find his injury treated with such implements as jagged stones, birch branches, or even a primitive Shiwala.

Part of the problem, I’m sure, was a lack of experience of all medical professionals of the Medieval times. Iowa State’s Student Health founders had it even worse, though, as far as practice was concerned. In the early going, business was slow — and well it should have been. The university that Student Health was built to service wouldn’t be founded for another 600 years.

Since that time, many things have changed, but one thing remains the same: Student Health is still embarrassingly behind the times when it comes to medical practice and concern for student welfare. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice people. They’d be great golf course caddies or bus drivers. But, as I found out earlier this year, Harry Weston is a more capable doctor.

One morning last fall, while on my way to my 11 a.m. Cheese Appreciation class, I witnessed a rare spectacle on central campus. Despite residence hall policies which forbid large African mammals, some crafty student from Friley had managed to sneak a hippopotamus into his room, only to watch it later escape. The eight-ton animal was striding confidently through central campus, near the front of Curtiss.

Deciding it was my duty as a citizen and scholar to put a stop to this mayhem, I leapt upon the poor beast’s back and tried to break him like a bronco. He was none too pleased with this attempt and tossed me over thirty yards through the air in a tight spiral. I ricocheted off the Campanile and landed in some shrubs near the Union.

My skull was split down the middle, and my left arm was mysteriously absent. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to ponder missing appendages as my hippo friend had located me. The frisky beast rumbled across Union Drive, eager to tangle. I retrieved my arm from the fountain and made my escape, beating at the creature with my severed limb.

At first, I wanted to just leave my injuries alone and let them heal without any interference, but some friends convinced me to try out Student Health. All of my fears were put to rest at the door, where I was greeted by Dr. Nick Riviera and his friendly staff.

Dr. Nick didn’t hesitate, setting right to work before I could even explain the situation. Before I had a chance to tell him about my head and arm injuries, he had effectively removed my gall bladder and some other (hopefully less than crucial) internal organ, bottled them up and was writing a bill.

If you’ve never been to Student Health before, the wide array of archaic tools may frighten and confuse you. Where most hospitals are equipped with standard syringes and scalpels, Dr. Nick and his staff prefer the throwback tools of the trade, such as morning stars and battle axes.

You can no longer call Nick primitive, though. In the last year, Student Health has splurged for a handy set of hacksaws, a collection of rusty farm implements and a Garden Weasel. None of these would be necessary for my injuries, though.

Nick replaced my gall bladder but couldn’t find the other organ, whatever it was. I think one of the many dogs that were just milling around the Operating Room might have run off with it. At any rate, Nick set to work on my real ailments. He had my split skull fixed in a heartbeat, power-stapling the identical halves together along the seam.

My arm, unfortunately, wasn’t so easy. In the end, several of the attending nurses lathered the appendage with carpenter’s glue and Nick slapped it in place. He demonstrated an obvious lack of medical know-how by placing the arm square in the middle of my back, but otherwise, the experience was a positive one.

So just remember, next time you decide it would be cool to pick on Student Health, its many trained professionals, or medicine in general, there are those of us out there who have this operation, as prehistoric as it is, to thank for our livelihoods. I’ll never forget Dr. Nick and his place of business. Or his Shiwala.

Ron DeMarse is a sophomore in liberal studies from Muscatine. Josh Flickinger is a sophomore in journalism and mass communication from Caledonia, Ill.