While I was in college, I took an anatomy class. Every year, the school sponsored a trip to the morgue at the local hospital so each student in the class could be a spectator for a real autopsy. When the doctor rolled out the specimen, I nearly spit up my food, because it was the first dead body I had ever seen. In spite of studying biology and anatomy and even dissecting various species of animals for several semesters, I felt dizzy and my head was spinning. I tried to remain calm and cool, because I didn’t want to spoil this experience for the others and make a spectacle of myself in front of the doctor and other students. An older student saw that I was feeling uneasy and came over and squeezed my arm and recommended that I go out to the hall and splash or spray some cold water on my face to help me relax.
When I came back in the room, the class had been split into two sections. One group was supposed to clean the equipment until it sparkled, and the other group as to spread out clean towels and sheets around the body. I sprinkled some cleaning powder on my hands and washed the equipment thoroughly.
We asked the doctor how this person had died, and he said that the information didn’t specify the cause of death, but he speculated the person had spilled some very strong poison on his chest that caused his heart to stop. The doctor showed us that some blisters had sprouted up when the poison had made contact with the skin. These bumpy, discolored spots were a sure sign of poisoning, said the doctor.
Many of us were very uneasy about seeing the dead body, so the doctor tried to spur us on by telling us that this was just the man’s body; his spirit was in Heaven. I thought that the doctor’s spontaneous encouragements were helpful.
We watched the doctor skillfully perform the delicate task of the autopsy. We all paid close attention to his skill and expertise.When we returned to class the following week, our professor asked us what we had seen and learned. I couldn’t speak for the rest of the students, but I knew that I learned that to be a doctor, one must work hard and must have a special understanding of both life and death
When I came back in the room, the class had been split into two sections. One group was supposed to clean the equipment until it sparkled, and the other group as to spread out clean towels and sheets around the body. I sprinkled some cleaning powder on my hands and washed the equipment thoroughly.
We asked the doctor how this person had died, and he said that the information didn’t specify the cause of death, but he speculated the person had spilled some very strong poison on his chest that caused his heart to stop. The doctor showed us that some blisters had sprouted up when the poison had made contact with the skin. These bumpy, discolored spots were a sure sign of poisoning, said the doctor.
Many of us were very uneasy about seeing the dead body, so the doctor tried to spur us on by telling us that this was just the man’s body; his spirit was in Heaven. I thought that the doctor’s spontaneous encouragements were helpful.
We watched the doctor skillfully perform the delicate task of the autopsy. We all paid close attention to his skill and expertise.When we returned to class the following week, our professor asked us what we had seen and learned. I couldn’t speak for the rest of the students, but I knew that I learned that to be a doctor, one must work hard and must have a special understanding of both life and death