Medical School, Day 1

I started medical school today. Mostly the day consisted of administrative jumble, packed classrooms (for probably the last time), and not much in the way of new information. This means, of course, that I will start studying in earnest tomorrow, but for today, I am left only to reflect on my first encounter with the gross anatomy cadaver.

Although I am infinitely curious about the inner workings of the body, I am also similarly impressed by the human condition in general, and I was a little weary to beginning dissection; it’s quite easy to empathize oneself into a fainting spell, and in a room full of jagged metal tanks and linoleum floors. The tanks, by the way, are stainless steel and appear far too small to fit a human body, so it is that much more disturbing when the cadaver is finally lifted out of its resting place into the glaring fluorescent light.

But it wasn’t disturbing. With a mere six students per body, it is an intimate experience, and my first thoughts were not of bracing myself for the imminent swoon, but of thanks to the dear old man who had the foresight to donate his body for my education. All I know of him is what I can see, his bodily condition immediately before death, his numbered tag.

Thanks, #5----- of the UT Houston Medical School gross anatomy lab.

The subtitle to the title of this blog is a quote by Hippocrates, and if art is one path to immortality, then immortality consists at least in part in being remembered through one’s work; Antoine Roquentin of Sartre’s Nausea comes to approximately the same conclusion. #5-----, if not immortality, then you’ve earned at least a brief reprieve, a place in the life of someone you never knew.

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When we saw what may be as good a heaven as any: