Today I met the cadaver I'll be working on this summer. She was the first cadaver I have ever really seen...well aside from body world, but this is different because they were all dried out, and she was kept very moist. It is can be easy to forget that you are working on a real person. Someone who once had a name, a family, hopes and dreams. But every now and then you get a reminder. When we were told were were going to be introduced to the cadaver today every one became a little bit nervous. We are all going into the medical field but most of us have only been learning from books, models or random organs of the body. Never a whole person. In front of the class room there are large, silver caskets..they reek of formaldehyde. We all crowded around, there are not too many of us in the class, and they opened it up. Inside there is a person, wrapped in wet blue towels. None of us are standing too close partially because the smell is over whelming and partially because the idea of it is intimidating. They tell us what they know of her. For starters it's a her. Not an it. A her. They don't know how she died, they don't know how old she was, they only know her name. And the only reason they know her name was so that they could compare all of our last names and make sure that we are not going to be seeing our Aunt Lola de-skinned and laying on a table. That thought made me swallow. We are told if you are going to pass out, or if you feel dizzy tell someone right away. They do not want anyone fainting and hitting their head on the medal edge. Then they begin to unwrap the towels. They start with the feet. The feet move. They muscles are not hard, or tight... they are relaxed and soft. They get to the toes and fold the towels down. They continue to unwrap the body but I am still staring at the toes. The toe nails are painted bright pink. The polish hadn't even chipped. That is the real point when this went from being just another learning tool for me to a real person. I sigh and wonder if she was ticklish when she was alive. I look at the rest of the body. The skin has been removed everywhere except for around the belly button so that we can see the muscle structure. I look up at the face. They have shaved her head. I look at her eyes, I look at her mouth. I stop when I see her left ear. On her left ear there is a mole. On the mole there are two hairs. This gives her a personality. She was an older women, she was not very tall, she looked delicate. I wonder how many storied those ears listened to. If they heard children running down the hall late at night. I wondered what type of music was her favorite. I wonder what the last person said to her and if she smiled in response. They cannot tell us her name. So I name her Rose. She looks like a Rose. My thought is that this was a person and deserves respect just like you would give any other person. A lot of individuals will do everything possible to make their cadavers less human so they don't have to think about what they are working on. I don't think this is how it should be. I want her to have a name. I imagine a very happy life for her. She had a loving family family, she liked classical music and peanut butter cookies dipped in chocolate milk. She donated her body to science so I imagine that she was a science teacher. Her wish was to have her body used to teach others.. all of us young rising stars who need to know what they are really working with so that they can go out and help others. I will treat her with respect, I will tell her thank you for this advantage. I will never again think of her as just our cadaver, I will think of her as Rose. This may all sound a little strange and morbid. It's not. I have to learn, she understood that so this is okay. Quiet possibly I will do the same thing when I die. I'm not sure. It doesn't bother me seeing her when the casket is open, but I feel bad knowing that it is closed and she is alone in a dark room. If I could, I would sneek back into the building and turn on the lights and maybe some music. That makes me sound crazy. I'm not. Okay..maybe a little crazy but in a good caring way. My grandma used to tell me that heaven is not a place, it is how others remember you. My grandma is in a beautiful garden, full of flowers, sunlight, music and root beer floats. Today I met Rose. I have no idea what kind of life she really had, or if she was a nice person but I'm going to think of her in her own little heaven as well. It's a version of a thank you right?
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