Gross Anatomy

I have anatomy lab this afternoon. You may appreciate that I have mixed feelings about being in an anatomy lab. I find the whole experience fascinating, and extremely valuable. Being able to see the structures in situ, in their three-dimensional context, is invaluable. It's one thing to look at the text book and see the nice picture, and quite another to follow the structures in and out, around other structures from end to end. Clinically, it's valuable to see the places where things commonly go wrong; the weak spots, the crossovers, the design/developmental flaws that make certain structures prone to failure. So I do appreciate why it is necessary and valuable to dissect. And I am grateful to my donor for their gift.

Our anatomy prof started off the course by telling us that we would come to know our very first patient intimately, in a way that we would seldom ever get to know anyone ever again. And as I have proceeded through the semester, cataloging the aftermath of disease process, and surgery after surgery on this patient, I see what they meant. Our donor's last years had to have been painful ones. And death must have come as a relief, for the patient as well as their family. I think that in some respects, I feel as if this person has been through enough at the hands of medical personnel; that the journey of discovery that we are making through their body is one further indignity foisted on them.

I find myself in lab saying in my soul, "not much longer now, and then you can rest."

And I know that practicing medicine requires some distance from, and even objectification of one's patients. I know that my donor, wherever they are now, is not feeling any pain. And that cutting into any patient, living or dead does not hurt me. But it is changing me.

I knew, heading into the adventure of medical school, that I would be changed by the experience. But I don't think I expected the changes to come so soon, and be so large. I have heard the Gross Anatomy experience described as a "rite of passage." I think that I'm beginning to understand what that means. It's not so much about learning the anatomy, important as that is. It's about learning how to care for patients, acknowledge their humanity, and sometimes even mourn for them without letting them into your private personal places. Perhaps it's about learning how to walk through a storm without being battered on the inside.

"The only constant in the world is change." And while I don't think that I will experience such a dramatic change for every class I take or every rotation I rotate through, I think that I will have to be on the lookout for those experiences that offer change. I suppose an educator might call them "teachable moments."

And I will need to meditate on the idea that medical school may well change me out of recognition. And that the doctor that emerges might bear little resemblance to the artist who went in. And that that's ok.