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RANGE RIDER | SPRING-SUMMER 2018
27
N
owhere is the wonder of the
human body more evident
than in an anatomy lab.
While every anatomy lab has
similarities, there is something
different about the HSU Physical Therapy
(PT) anatomy lab – and the people who teach
and study in it.
Before PT students enter the anatomy lab for
the first time, they participate in a solemn
dedication ceremony. Reading Psalm 139
is part of that ceremony, as are prayers.
Faculty and students express gratitude for the
individuals who willed their bodies to help
further medical research, and they pray for
the families of those individuals.
The respect and appreciation for these
bodies isn’t limited to an annual rite. Prayers
and poems posted in the lab serve as daily
reminders of the sacred duty to treat these
bodies with reverence, and to remember that
each body belonged to a unique individual
with a soul.
One of the poems posted is “Freckles,”
written by Dr. Jennifer Best after her time in
the anatomy lab during medical school. Dr.
Best’s cadaver was Edward, a 93-year-old man
who died just days before his body arrived at
the lab.
Students are eager to talk about their
experiences in the anatomy lab. For those
who were somewhat fearful at first, their fear
has been replaced by awe and a desire to learn
more about the human body. There is a limit
Freckles
Poem by Jennifer Best, M.D.
I noticed the freckles on your shoulders this afternoon,
as a black plastic bag was pulled from your arm.
And I stood in awe of things bigger than myself as I gripped the table for support,
occasionally remembering to breathe.
In anticipation of this day, we made some decisions.
You, to teach and I, to be taught.
Here we are together now, in a marriage of circumstance. Your body, the classroom.
I, your strange new pupil, fumbling with parts of you that few,
if any, of your closest friends ever saw.
Finally face to face, what do you see when you look at me now?
Am I what you thought I would be?
Eager? Anxious? Do I look as tired as I suddenly feel?
Can you see the lump that rises in my throat
as I struggle to fix my eyes anywhere but on your face
where what you once were looms largest?
Can you see the tears that fill my eyes as I grieve the loss of someone I have never
met and struggle for composure in a room full of people I hardly know?
You did not choose me, yet you trusted me.
And I will never know you, although somewhere,
a family mourns the passing of one they love.
I need time, that is all.
Time to think about what this means for both of us.
Brother, Sister, Son, Daughter, Father, Mother, Husband, Wife, Neighbor, Cadaver.
I noticed the freckles on your shoulder this afternoon.
Tonight I noticed the freckles on my own. We are the same you and I,
only you have been There, and I haven’t.
Reproduced with permission from Best J. Freckles. Annals of Internal Medicine. 1999, 130(7):612. ©American College of Physicians.
The first time I saw a
cadaver with nail polish still
on her fingernails, I was
taken aback . . . she became
more real to me as an
individual. I began to think
about her being someone’s
daughter,
sister,
wife,
and mother.
— Adyson