Facing Death

I know I've either been microblogging or posting in bullets lately because it's easier and quicker. Blame it on my wicked med school schedule and requirements. But reading my previous posts, I realized that short and structured entries still aren't the same as entries made of strings of words and paragraphs. It's like there's something missing; it's as if the spirit of the post is lost without an accompanying story-telling to it. Or maybe I just missed writing lengthy entries.

Whatever it is, at least here I am, trying to compose a decent paragraph-filled entry again. There's actually so many things to write about if I only had the time, and it's sad that I wasn't able to write about them when the memories were still fresh and real. So now, I'll just type type type away and see where my current sabaw and coffee-fueled self will take me.

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They say that you're officially a medical student when you start cadaver dissection. It's been more or less three weeks since we entered that particular phase of our med school life, and all I can say is that it's been life-changing.

I dissected a frog, a cat, and even a cockroach before, but dissecting an actual human being is certainly different. Faaaar different. Although a part of me has grown quite used to the tedious slicing and cutting done almost everyday, the whole experience of opening a body of a person is still somehow unreal to me. I think it's probably because our cadaver's face is still covered with cheese cloth, and all we got to see and touch recently were his upper and lower extremities. Possibly, the fact that I haven't seen his face--how his lips curve, what shade his eyebrows are, how his nose look, or what facial expression he left before he passed away--is why I can carry on dissecting him without being scared or at least moved in an all new level.

I know I shouldn't be scared. I should even be thankful because this person gave his body for us to learn and be able to save people in the future. But honestly, I can't help but be afraid. Why? Because I am afraid of losing people. I am afraid of death.

Having a cadaver in front of me reminded me of how people can come and go so instantly. In a snap of a second, in a flash of light, in a speck of a moment, we can lose the people we love. And it made me think about the people who our cadaver left behind. I know it's none of my business, but certain questions brushed my mind: Do his loved ones know that he's gone? Why didn't they claim his body? Do they know where he is? Do they miss him?

In addition, I thought about how death will inevitably arrive, whether we like it our not. We can likewise lose our own lives in a snap of a second, in a flash of light, in a speck of a moment. This then made me wonder about our cadaver and the person who he was. Did he know he was about to die when he did? What was he like? What did he do? What were the things that he loved? What were his fondest memories? What defined his life?

I know all these questions of mine will remain as questions. Next week, we will be able to see our cadaver's face as we dissect his head and neck. Although I'm still not ready, I am hoping that wherever our cadaver is right now, he is aware that we are very grateful for the sacrifice that he offered to us and that we will not put his gift to waste. Also, I would like to thank him for reminding me that not only is life lived, but is it is also shared. And it is never too late to make a difference in other people's lives, just like how he made a difference in mine.

Thank you for sharing your life to us. May God bless your soul.