First Patient
She lay there on her stomach, motionless. She didn't even flinch when six people crowded around her, whispering in eager tones. I suspected her to have scoliosis, but I wasn't sure. She had very pale skin, rubbery almost, with absolutely no blood running through her vessels. I detected nail polish on her fingers, which she probably tried unsuccessfully to remove because it looked patchy. I took a step forward but the stench emanating from her was unbearable. I covered my nose and peered over to her other side. I tried to bend her hand, but it was locked down. Rigor mortis. There she was, dead.
I still don't understand the concept of donating your body to science so inexperienced medical students can poke and prod you. It's a very noble thing to do, I think. Here I was, about to cut through a human being, who gave herself up to me so I could learn. I thought about what kind of a life she would have lead. She probably was just like me. She probably laughed, cried, ate and slept. She probably had a family who is grieving her loss as I write this.
But I will confess, even though I thought of all of this, when I was actually cutting through her, she didn't feel human at all. It felt like I was cutting through a mannequin, as crude as it sounds. She wasn't alive, her body had been preserved which made her skin appear pruney, she was surrounded with embalming fluid, and her muscles and skin were completely devoid of blood. When I held her brain in my hand, I was in awe. This thing that fit in my hand was what made her function everyday. What made her limbs move, what made her think and feel, and love. Yet, it felt like another one of my 8th grade dissection's through a lamb's brain. It didn't feel like I was cutting through a human.
Maybe this approach is good in a way. They're teaching us to work under pressure, to work quickly and efficiently. If I get caught up in wondering what kind of life she lead, what she was like, I probably wouldn't have learned anything. I would've been stuck in a web of contradicting emotions. I pushed them all aside and focused on the science, which helped me appreciate the intricate workings of the human body.
I suppose it'll only get harder. I try not to think about what lies ahead in my clinical years. A seminar today showed me the ups and downs of what I might face later on. Watching people suffer from pain, watching people waiting for death to come whisk them away and possibly even being the one to tell their loved ones of their loss. But it also showed the beautiful side of medicine. Where I will witness the joy on a mother's face, listen to a newborns first cry and possibly even watch the child grow.
I look forward to traveling down this path and so I begin this journey with my first patient... Who is teaching me a lot, scientifically and emotionally. I will forever be indebted to her for allowing me an opportunity to learn and gain insight into the workings of the human body... and in helping me discover myself...
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I still don't understand the concept of donating your body to science so inexperienced medical students can poke and prod you. It's a very noble thing to do, I think. Here I was, about to cut through a human being, who gave herself up to me so I could learn. I thought about what kind of a life she would have lead. She probably was just like me. She probably laughed, cried, ate and slept. She probably had a family who is grieving her loss as I write this.
But I will confess, even though I thought of all of this, when I was actually cutting through her, she didn't feel human at all. It felt like I was cutting through a mannequin, as crude as it sounds. She wasn't alive, her body had been preserved which made her skin appear pruney, she was surrounded with embalming fluid, and her muscles and skin were completely devoid of blood. When I held her brain in my hand, I was in awe. This thing that fit in my hand was what made her function everyday. What made her limbs move, what made her think and feel, and love. Yet, it felt like another one of my 8th grade dissection's through a lamb's brain. It didn't feel like I was cutting through a human.
Maybe this approach is good in a way. They're teaching us to work under pressure, to work quickly and efficiently. If I get caught up in wondering what kind of life she lead, what she was like, I probably wouldn't have learned anything. I would've been stuck in a web of contradicting emotions. I pushed them all aside and focused on the science, which helped me appreciate the intricate workings of the human body.
I suppose it'll only get harder. I try not to think about what lies ahead in my clinical years. A seminar today showed me the ups and downs of what I might face later on. Watching people suffer from pain, watching people waiting for death to come whisk them away and possibly even being the one to tell their loved ones of their loss. But it also showed the beautiful side of medicine. Where I will witness the joy on a mother's face, listen to a newborns first cry and possibly even watch the child grow.
I look forward to traveling down this path and so I begin this journey with my first patient... Who is teaching me a lot, scientifically and emotionally. I will forever be indebted to her for allowing me an opportunity to learn and gain insight into the workings of the human body... and in helping me discover myself...
