Cadaver=Body=Human?

I don't think anybody reads this blog anymore, but we are supposed to write journal entries for our cadaver entries and I figured this is a good way to make sure that I am able to get back to it when I need it.  Who knows?  Maybe, I'll start this journaling thing again to vent.

With my scrubs on for the first time,  I think I somehow felt more important than I should; it marked a passage from a "mere" mortal to a future doctor. I think I now realize how a uniform can distance one so far from everyone else.  This cadaver lying in front of me was not a subject, much less former human.  Oh no, it was an object meant to help me in my studies and something that needed to get done.  Maybe, that's why, when we opened that plastic blue bag made out of tarp material, I felt nothing.  Nothing.  Well, at least  I felt no overwhelming sense of loss nor pain nor sickness nor any feeling that should accompany the viewing of a dead body.  It was an it.  It looked fake despite the markings on its skin that showed that this was person who had weathered life, loved people, was loved others, smiled, cried, and now, was on our table at the mercy of our scalpels.

I lost my humanity officially today.  Why must I lose this in order to do what I must?  Was this what God meant for me?

We started cutting right away and the smell was something like a cross between formaldehyde and butchered meat.  It really didn't help me that I was slightly hungry.  The skin with yellow fat was surprisingly thick and heavy.  One doesn't usually think of your skin looking like this. The striated muscles underneath were red.  After 1.5 hours of cutting, we discovered the Trapezius, scapula, and Latissmus Dorsi.  These muscles once helped a man carry his children for the first time, climb a ladder to fix the roof,  roll his shoulders back as he stood proudly in front of his bride...and now it was cut up, unrecognizable and pinned in order to help us learn these intricate parts.

Have I lost my humanity?  Does the fact that this is fun to me mean that I am devoid of all compassion and feeling? 

It scares me.  I am enjoying it, and it scares me.

Comments

[Jenn]

No, it just means you have to compartmentalize; it doesn't mean you lose your compassion completely.
And I remember a lot of med-student friends of mine commenting on how much they enjoyed dissecting cadavers--because they are interested in the workings of the human body. It's a complicated experience, I would think. It's gross, and scary, but there is awe there, too.