About

We unzipped the long, plastic bag and gazed down at the body of the delicate, elderly woman we had spent the last week cleaning in anticipation of today. Her eyes remained closed and appeared to be at peace with what was to come. Without wasting any time, we lifted up one side of her body and rolled her onto her stomach. We were ready to make the first cut.

There was no loud declaration. No applause. No cries of objection or pain from Danielle (the name we had decided on for our cadaver upon first acquaintance). There really didn’t seem to be anything notable to mark the occasion of our first cut. But in the quiet of my thoughts, the thud of my heart was hushed as I felt the relief spread through my body. I could do this.

The following four hours seemed to fly by. We each stood by Danielle, taking turns wielding the scalpel. The 20 blade easily made its way through skin, fat, and connective tissue as we peeled away the skin and fascia to reveal the muscles that lay beneath. As the entirety of Danielle’s back lay exposed, the fumes of formaldehyde coming up from her tissues burned my eyes, reminding me that what I was being allowed to see was a gift and privilege that was not to be taken lightly.

My heart was beating a little harder and faster than usual. Excitement mingled with nervousness as I changed into old ragged high school running shoes and the seasoned scrubs I had bought from the second year class. Thoughts and questions raced through my mind as I made attempts to prepare myself for what lay ahead. But what can you really do to prepare yourself to cut into a human body?

After the skin and fascia were peeled away, we began our educational pursuit. Slowly progressing to the deepest layers of the back, we identified, cut, and pulled away each muscle, consulting our textbooks and each other the entire way. Levator scapulae, erector spinae, splenius, semispinalis… what was once foreign became familiar and intimate as we pointed and called out these names to one another. We repeated them and made them our own. By the end, it was as if we had known them all along.

We folded each muscular layer back onto Danielle and carefully wrapped her to keep her preserved for the remainder of our course. I returned to the locker room, feeling as seasoned as my secondhand scrubs.

Upon arriving at home, I suddenly felt the tired muscles that I had unconsciously ignored during those four hours of lab. As I unwound in the shower, I scrubbed and washed to rid myself of the harsh odor of formaldehyde. Almost three hours later, I still can smell the fragrance on my skin. Whether the scent lingers in reality or merely as a figment of my imagination, it inescapably brings me to think about how my own skin and back would look, peeled back and cut away. I turn and look behind myself, into a mirror, recalling the images of each muscular structure. I smile. I can’t wait to see the rest.