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Gross anatomy brings on great anticipation
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Editor’s Note:
Chelsey Baldwin of Little River is a first-year medical student. This
column follows the journey of her class in becoming doctors.
This Friday [Sept.
17] we start gross anatomy. I would say it has become a point of
somewhat great anticipation.
 The reason for
this is two-fold: Human dissection intrinsically brings about uneasy
feelings because it is an unknown and previously forbidden territory.
The only associations I have with lifeless bodies would be those of
deceased relatives, and the thought of sorting through their internal
structures is just grotesque. While I’m quite aware the lack of
familiarity with the cadaver will aid my discomfort, there is no
denying that I will soon indeed be sorting through the internal
structures of someone else’s deceased relative.
Secondly, one cannot help but notice the emphasis our instructors have
placed upon the mental and emotion strain of gross anatomy. For just
this reason, we have been asked to give the upcoming course quite a bit
of forethought. In fact, premeditation on human dissection has been
planned into our curriculum.
Before entering medical school, we were to read “Body of Work” by
Christine Montross, M.D., a memoir reflecting the author’s somewhat
tormented thoughts and experiences with gross anatomy. We’ve also been
required to attend seminars in which we discuss how previous medical
students typically dealt with the experience of gross anatomy and to
predict how we see ourselves handling the course. And as the final
kickoff to our anatomy pre-gaming, the author of our summer reading
will be coming to speak to us in the final lecture hours before we
enter the lab.
I will definitely say all the attention placed on the emotions
associated with human dissection has made me worry more. For example, I
found myself saying during our seminar that I was afraid of having
nightmares. This is odd because, while it is a very real fear, I never
have nightmares. Not to say that it won’t happen, but I doubt I’d being
worrying about it now without having read and discussed the fact that
nightmares and other such disturbed feelings have accompanied gross
anatomy for others.
Whether the readings, seminars, and talks have been an integral part of
my preparation for gross anatomy or just an eerie prelude, I will soon
find out. I have my mountain of books, my fill of emotional talks, and
I’m just ready to get into the lab and get my feet, or should I say
hands, wet.
One drawback to the start of anatomy is the addition of yet another
time-draining activity. Since the start of the semester, I feel like no
matter what I am doing, time just melts away. Time spent with friends
and family goes by even quicker. I’m beginning to believe our mentors
when they say, in what feels like a blink of an eye, it’ll be Christmas.
Another phenomena has been the increase of laughter in my life. While
it sounds odd, I’ve never laughed so much, so consistently in my life.
I laugh until I have tears in my eyes at least two to three times each
week. It may be for the fact that I am surrounded by clever and
intriguing people, but I have an inkling this phenomena can be readily
correlated to the amount of hours spent studying and the ounces of
caffeine ingested. It’s what I like to refer to as the “Giggle Point.”
That point has clearly been reached when facts about DNA structure or
the presence of unclaimed Band-Aids send an entire library table into
fits of laugher. It doesn’t take much to trigger this slap-happy state
once the Giggle Point has set in. Despite its deleterious effects on my
productivity, I’m thankful for something to laugh about. Laughter is
necessary when life demands I be so serious.
Friday, Sept. 24, 2010
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