BREAKING THE SILENCE, 2014 Breaking The Silence | Page 15

JUST.LIKE.EVERY.OTHER.DAY
T
he room was dark, hot and
stuffy. 'This is it', we
thought. We were going into
the place we had dreaded for a long
time. This was a place that held so
many myths and mysteries, a place
that had terrified so many before us,
a place that few dared to trespass.
This was the Anatomy Gross Lab.
The fright was evident on our faces.
We filed in cautiously, almost
forming a straight line, and I tell
you, that was something, for before
this, we could barely maintain a
queue of any kind. We crept on, the
bravest of us in front. The smell hit
us like a blast from a detonated
bomb. No, this was not a whiff, this
was beyond fathomable. The
formalin-drenched room coupled
with the embalmed bodies spurned
a wave of nausea throughout the
room. Trust me; the putrid smell is
what disorients you first and
foremost, before the gloom that
descends thereafter.
In unbearable silence, we moved to
our respective tables and bays. I
stared at the cadaver which seemed
to be staring back at me. 'oh stop
taunting me', I thought. How could I
possibly begin to cut up a fellow
human being, a being that had once
breathed, that dreamed, and lived?
Judging from the faces around me, I
could tell they all had the same
thought. I simply couldn't take it.
And so, I vomited…
…Okay, who am I kidding? That
over-flogged piece above was how it
should have been in an ideal world.
But ladies and gentlemen, that was
far from the case. Au contraire! It
was a fairly bright and sunny day.
The room was dark, hot, and stuffy
alright, but that was thanks to
PHCN. We filed in hurriedly and
noisily. We received the smell like it
was nothing. Hurrying to our tables,
we began to discuss what it would
feel like to work on our cadavers.
Around me were serious looking
faces eager to cut. There was no
sadness, no fright, no disgust,
nothing! We fit right in. It was now
apparently normal and
commonplace to attack the gut of
lifeless bodies. Surveying the bodies
for just a few minutes, someone
said with alarming alacrity: “Hand
me the knife”.
So easily had we become
automatons; like most of the freshly
baked doctors churned out year
after year. Our emotions had begun
to shrivel, while our heads did all
the thinking. It was bound to
happen all aspiring doctors; that we
might see the 'case' in a patient.
AMSUL Digest 2014