As the pages of my life turned beyond childhood and adolescence, the presence of death grew more prominent during the time of my medical education. Throughout the courses of anatomy, pathology, and forensic medicine, it stayed faithfully with me, its presence impossible to ignore.
Anatomy and Meeting the Death
I begin this tale with anatomy class, one of the toughest courses in medical school. It was considered a rite of passage, a milestone that needed to be crossed by those aspiring to become doctors. The breadth of the subject of human anatomy was astonishing, covering everything from bones and muscles to organs and more.
I have vivid memories of the countless hours I dedicated to studying in diverse settings, such as the library's corridors, the amphitheater's benches, and the confines of small classrooms. Those were the days and nights when I jumped into a sea of knowledge, absorbing the vast amount of information that demanded to be remembered. Undeniably, I possessed a talent for memorization, yet I couldn't quite comprehend the significance of it all. Why did I need to know the names of every protuberance on the bones, every connection point of the muscles, or every facet of the organ under scrutiny? It was a rhetorical question for which I didn’t find an answer.
However, the most difficult part was having to dissect cadavers. This hands-on activity gave us first-year medical students a real-life understanding of the tridimensionality of the human body and how its organs and structures fit together. When the day of the cadaver dissection came, I witnessed a mix of emotions among my fellow students. Some were excited and curious, eager to explore the lifeless bodies. Others felt on edge and anxious at their sight.
As I stood there, a whirlwind of feelings swept over me. Before me lay the inert body, once vibrant with life, now a motionless presence. The initial brush against the cold, parchment-like skin sent a chill down my back. Letting go of the unease that death brings required a lot of effort, like trying to free oneself from a labyrinth of introspection. Coming face to face with this body form pushed me far beyond my usual comfort zone. The sight of corpses stirred up a mix of deep thoughts, from thinking about existence to an awareness of my own mortality.
To deal with my complicated state of mind, I focused on the concrete and practical aspects of investigation; the details of tissues and organs, as well as the scientific principles and knowledge that form the basis of medical practice. By compartmentalizing my overall experience, I instinctively created a mental framework that helped me to find meaning in learning the human anatomy in this way.
With each new encounter with cadavers, it became easier to see the deceased as vessels of knowledge rather than sources of distress. By disconnecting my emotions from the physical reality in front of me, I approached each examination of the human body with curiosity and a desire to explore it intellectually.
Embracing Empathy, Embracing Distance
However, maintaining a sense of detachment wasn’t as easy during my clinical rotations. As I walked on shaky legs in the healthcare environment, I met numerous situations where real people grappled with life-threatening conditions. The emotional energy of these encounters was intense, making it nearly impossible to switch off my own feelings. Whether I conversed with cancer patients confronted by the harsh reality of their diagnosis or supported those battling chronic illnesses, the words and emotions expressed resonated deeply within my being. I couldn't simply disregard my patients’ fears and hopes; instead, I empathized with their experiences.
The weight of responsibility was heavy on my shoulders. It felt as if I was entrusted with a God-like power to decide if someone lived or died. Every day brought new situations that made me question myself: "Did I do my best?" I was consumed with self-doubt about my actions and choices, always wanting to make sure I did everything right.
I quickly learned that being a healthcare provider meant finding the right balance between emotional connection and professional detachment. While my emotions served as a guide of my humanity and commitment to patient care, I also knew I had to stay level-headed to make well-informed and impartial decisions.
An Adventure into the Emergency Department
Around that time, I shared some of my experiences with my girlfriend. She was fascinated by these encounters because they transcended ordinary everyday occurrences. At one point she asked to join me while I was observing work in the Emergency Department. I agreed because it sounded like an adventure, a unique experience. It seems that both of us shared the elation of defying the norms during those youthful years when spontaneity often guided our actions.
Somehow, I managed to find a white coat for her due to an oversight in the verification of credentials for medical students. Armed with curiosity and a sense of anticipation, we ventured into the environment of the Emergency Department, where lives oscillated on the edge and urgency charged the air.
We witnessed a real-life drama unfold before our eyes. We saw victims of car accidents fight for their lives. It was like something out of a movie, watching doctors and nurses working tirelessly to save them. On this particular occasion, we got a glimpse of the tragic aftermath, with rooms stained in blood after their efforts to save lives had unfortunately failed. One of the nurses who came out of the room noticed our astonished faces. She looked really tired and upset. She hurriedly shut the door and advised us to leave because there was nothing worth seeing inside. The impact of witnessing such a contrast between life and death was not easy to shake off. I knew right there and then that I would never be able to work in such an environment.
A Chilling Domain of Forensic Medicine
However, this experience didn’t prevent my girlfriend to join me in another medical rotation where violent death was again on display, now in the chilling domain of Forensic Medicine. Stepping into the autopsy room, we took seats in the back row of the small amphitheater. It felt as though we were part of some covert operation, participating in an exciting but also disturbing event. The forensic pathologist, a seasoned professional, stood confidently at the head of the table, ready to guide us through the procedures uncovering the truth surrounding the individual's death. While he spoke with a composed demeanor, our attention was fixated on the lifeless figure lying under the bright lights on the autopsy table.
The scene brought to mind Rembrandt's masterpiece, "The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp," which I had stumbled upon in my girlfriend's art history textbook. Its macabre atmosphere had a magnetic pull, drawing me into the disturbing spectacle it depicted. Dr. Nicolaes Tulp commanded the painting, exuding an air of authority. His cold, detached gaze seemed to possess intimate knowledge of the secrets hidden within the human form.
For a moment, it felt as though time had folded, and I had stepped into the very world Rembrandt had created centuries ago. The room was filled with an eerie stillness. The flickering lights added a touch of surrealism. The others present in the room became my companions during this peculiar time travel. Their faces mirrored a mix of curiosity and edginess, reflecting the conflicted emotions I was experiencing too. Like characters frozen in the painting's frame, we were all witnesses to this theater of life and death.
My girlfriend's hand tightened around mine, our fingers intertwining as we watched the autopsy unfold before us. It was a lot to take in. Amidst the dissecting and examining, we silently agreed to leave, slipping away unnoticed.
As we headed towards the exit, a medical technician standing nearby noticed our departure. He leaned against the door, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, wearing a knowing smile. It was clear that he had witnessed many other medical students succumb to the grisly nature of these procedures.
Driven by curiosity, I decided to strike up a conversation with him, wanting to understand how he managed to endure it all. With a bottle of brandy within arm's reach, he offered his response, revealing with surprised honesty his coping mechanism in the face of such visceral scenes.
Despite the pending exam that I had to take, I made a decision not to return to the practical portion of Forensic Medicine. This exam held great significance, it was the last one and marked the culmination of my time in Medical School. Eventually, on December 20, 1978, I received the news of my success, having achieved an outstanding grade on this particular exam. I crossed the finish line. It was on that memorable day that I was bestowed with the Doctor of Medicine diploma, signifying the completion of my rigorous medical education. A new chapter of my life was poised to open up.
Beyond the Finality
The recurring theme of death during my medical education forced me to confront the subject, from both a personal and professional standpoint. In doing so, I broadened my understanding of the complexities surrounding mortality. Now that I'm getting older myself, I reflect on the experience of life force in the face of death gravitational pull. The passage of time, accompanied by the departure of people I know, makes me more aware of the limited nature of my own existence. I wonder what it is about death that the fear of it – or rather the terror of it – is so powerful for many of us, that it is almost impossible to accept the finality it represents.
During my time as a medical student, I was deeply steeped in a perspective that viewed death and dying solely through a materialistic, reductionistic, and narrowly scientific lens. It seemed to me then that death represented the conclusive termination of our existence. However, as I have continued to explore the mysteries of life, I have come to perceive death as an integral part of the natural cycle that initiates with the very birth of life itself. In this perspective, death serves as a transformative process that enables the miracle of life to manifest.
I have learned to approach life with a sense of gratitude, embracing each moment and every experience that comes my way. Just as life commences, death marks its culmination, creating space for rebirth and new beginnings. This perspective not only recognizes the inevitability of mortality but also introduces the concept that death is not an ultimate endpoint but rather a transition—a gateway to new chapters of existence.
By contemplating death as an integral part of this grand cycle, I have accepted that my own existence is a part of the broader circle of life. I am but a single thread, but my actions, emotions, and connections reverberate through the infinite field of energy. Embracing death as a transformative process has allowed me to live each day with intention and purpose.
Death should not be a source of fear or despair, but rather an invitation to live authentically, to seek wisdom, and to contribute to the collective evolution of humanity. It is a call to celebrate the transitions of existence, knowing that while our individual lives may reach their inevitable conclusion, the cycle continues, offering opportunities for growth, renewal, and the perpetual emergence of life's miraculous presence.
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