RESPECTED IN LIFE AND IN DEATH

'The human face is an empty power, a field of death ...
after countless thousands of years that the human face
has spoken and breathed, one still has the impression
that it hasn't even begun to say what it is
and what it knows.'— Antonin Artaud (1896-1948), artist, from a text to introduce an
exhibition of his portraits & drawings, Galerie Pierre, July 1947.


Cadaver is a strange noun. The word does not convey the reality of a lifeless human body. It gentrifies the leathery, formaldehyde-soaked corpse succumbing to our intimate dissection.

The Gross Human Anatomy course offers a comprehensive understanding of all physical aspects of the human body with a combination of classroom didactics and laboratory dissections. An entire year is devoted, with memorization of all the body pieces and parts.

I approached the class and cadavers with curiosity and trepidation. My own human form made it more relevant than most of my dental courses. But I had some anxiety about my ability to cut up a body and how the act might affect me.

Our first lecture began with a lesson on respect for the dead. Some altruistic person had donated the use of their body to help others gain valuable knowledge. Respect for these human remains must never be violated, with reverence for the solemn result we all reach.

Our cadavers were wrapped in green cloths to retain the moisture with formaldehyde, and the smell was more revolting than the sight. The first exposure we saw several bare backs and some de-skinned musculature. But the view was not distressing, and we were relieved that none of us threw up or passed out.

With the exception of the head and neck, we were gradually introduced to all body parts. Soon we became desensitized to the odor, spending hours manipulating and dissecting the dead. Even as our classmates were humped over a smelly, exposed cadaver it was not uncommon to snack. No body parts were allowed outside the lab, and if tempted, a student would be expelled.

I loved learning about my body through the looking glass the cadavers offered. The black lungs of a smoker and the ravages of cancer were opened and on display for all of us to experience. Here was physical evidence that we may have to live with what we do in life and what we eat.

It reminded me of what the Catholic nuns used to drum into our heads -- our bodies are God's temples and we need to treat them as such.

However, disease is not a judgment, and the anatomical and genetic variations are totally out of our own control. Death was addressed only briefly as a rare outcome of poor judgment or a failure to activate emergency services during a heart attack. This was my introduction to clinical death and daily living with the eventual human mortality.

The heads of our cadavers were unveiled during the second half of the year. Each face was a unique structure with its own distinctive shape, a summation of individual features, nose size, projection, lip fullness, width, eye shapes, hair color, length, hairline, forehead, cheekbones, chins short and long, all singularly spaced to create the silhouette of their humanity. Curiously, the teeth did not seem to matter anymore.

Most troubling to me was that suddenly each individual's face took on the reality of a human life. For months these cadavers had given us hands-on experience with the working organs of what we knew were dead people; but the face revealed a personality and an identity that I was no longer able to deny. The lady with multiple surgeries altering her organ anatomy looked like my seventh-grade teacher. The body known for his well-defined muscle structure was revealed to be an innocent-faced young man

For weeks I was preoccupied about why these people had shared their deceased bodies with science. Should I share my organs, eyes, body parts and pieces that might further the quality of life for someone? Our bodies only decay after our death, so why not help mankind with knowledge that may positively affect the future?

I finally came to grips with the great gift these people were sharing with our class. In their death, they gave the gift of knowledge that allows us to give better treatment for hundreds of our patients now and in the future.

The temples of these anonymous lives were our teachers, and their souls are left in God's good hands.
-- Patrick J. Foy, DDS