Autopsy Day 1: A Life And Alive

The now legendary physicians Dr. Christine Montross (Body of Work, Brown), and Dr. Louise Aronson (History of the Present Illness, UCSF), and acclaimed social historian Professor Teofilo Ruiz (The Terror of History, UCLA) prepared me for medical education by teaching me that I have a duty to learn more about my patients, in life and in death, through experiential narrative. This is my minuscule attempt to learn by walking a toe in their footsteps.

Anatomy lab was the part of medical school that really scared me most.
Actually the thought of it quintessentially terrified me.
The smell and fluid exposure was the tiniest part of that fear. Death scares me. And yes, as a clinician, I’m scared to see someone else die. Yes, people like me can go to medical school. I thought I would faint, throw up, be in the hallway in the first three minutes.

In part, it was the idea that I would be there while someone’s mom, daughter, grandmother would be taken apart muscle by muscle.
Yet, it was more than this. It was the fact I would be there with what was left. Standing next to an incomplete set of organs, tissues, bones. Parts of a structure that once collectively felt the ultimate stressor.

That I would be left wondering at what point a person became the bone in my bone box.

I arrived expecting to come home and have nightmares. I’m home now, it’s nighttime and I’m fine. I was reminded that I’m alive.
Our arrival felt like the first day of P.E. class in high school. Rushing to find a spot for our backpacks in the locker room, you could smell the industrial cleaning solution on the same sets of scrubs, t minus10 seconds to game time with a long line to use the sink.

We knew what to expect, we wanted to know how we would feel.

We grabbed gloves, tied each others’ aprons, and checked in. We stood with our dissection teams near the blue tarp-bag with our group number.
Our instructor reminded us how special this opportunity was. And then we unzipped, and as I opened my eyes again, I saw her.
Oh wow, she’s… she’s real, she has presence, she exists. She seemed at peace. Is she sleeping?
We uncovered a leg.
And I think I took a step back while shaking. Oh my God. Her legs were pale. Is she ok, I thought to myself. There was some instinct to try to help her. Subconsciously, I denied that she was dead.
Then came the face.
And she looked just like the people I love. And at that point I knew I wasn’t going to be able to cut. Hopefully I’d be able to stand and watch this.
We turned her over.
She had mass. She felt real, she felt like she could give someone a hug.

At first I watched from afar. Actually not really watching at all. Then slowly I peaked.
I saw the fat above the muscles grease my classmates gloves.
I saw the nerves separate naturally, the muscle uncovered.

It was real. This was the world beneath a life.
And it was personal, I knew everything I saw was in me too.

As she became more and more exposed, her finality became more and more conclusive.
She was not going to wake up. Not tomorrow, not next week, not ever.

She was a synonymous human structure, that couldn’t live. A genetic carrier that could no longer differentiate. A person without a willingness, an eagerness, a commitment, a sense of self. She was gone.

And as I could taste a few of those saltier tears, I was reminded. I’m alive.

Her feet looked just like mine. Her feet were still shaped the same as mine.
And yet I can move mine.
I can walk, I can jump, I can go play basketball, I can love.

I can go home and eat ice cream.
Wake up at 8:30 a.m., lecture by 9:10 a.m.
Test, notes, test, more notes.
Important.
So is being alive.
Going to honor her life by appreciating mine is alive.
Going to call my Grandma in the morning, and my Mom and my Dad.
And play basketball and really do the things that I love.
I’ll make time for Grey’s.
But first I need to enjoy my life.
And be grateful for that moment, the next one, not take anything for granted.
We’re here and we’re alive.
We are alive. And it is so amazingly awesome.

Matt Rosenstein is an MS1 at Duke University School of Medicine