I come from a family of teachers, and so teaching was revered in my upbringing. I had unique insight to the experiences of those in my family—the teaching of literature, the arts, geography. In the same vein, medicine is a career that relies on being able to teach, to our patients and their loved ones, to our community, and of course those who are following in the journey. I look forward to putting into practice this family tradition, one way or another.
I credit dedicated teachers for their influence: devoting their time to see the merit in various perspectives, the strength of a well-established argument, and how weird and wonderful the world is, both in and out of the scientific fields. (The derivative of acceleration is ‘jerk,’ and after that the following derivatives are: snap, crackle, and pop. Look it up.) Encouraging teachers may be a reason why my peers and I have pursued medicine.
Tireless work, but rewarding if you’re lucky, I’ve been told. From these moments, I have gained a lot of respect for the altruistic career. But, what encourages someone to give back in this fashion? What encouraged me to even wonder about this now?
To this question, the certain kind of teachers I am currently referring to do not give feedback nor anecdotes. Their office hours are unorthodox and they will not bother to learn your name. They are both impersonal and deeply vulnerable, their decision to teach may not only be a complicated one, it may as well have been one of those choices that they were mindful of at the end.
I am referring to those who are teaching well after retirement, I am referring to the anatomy lab donors. The lessons these educators provide cannot be learned just from a textbook.
In jarring moments, in between mundane struggles, (my legs getting restless from standing for too long, or racking my brain to remember lymphatic drainage.) I am vividly struck with something more powerful than the smell of formaldehyde and postponed decay. I am reminded of the weight of their decision to be here and teach.
Moving past the macabre and unsettling, I am moved by the trust they put onto others, to be seen in a way most would find off-putting; the way I have felt in the beginning. I saw their presence as alarming, even though I braced myself for it as well as I could. I found myself perplexed by the choice, and at times overwhelmed, but still hoping to appreciate what they have done, even if it was a struggle.
But teachers, of all sorts, have a way to help change your perspective, little by little.
Looking at a human heart, I remembered when an ER doctor explained to me the approach of a thoracotomy. She told me that if you want to save lives you need to know the anatomy. I recall nodding, trying to wrap my brain around it as I was still trying to find my sea legs. What a gift that was, to save lives through one’s willingness to be cut apart and understood. That realization recontextualized how I felt about what I was doing. It made me feel that I understood my table’s donor a bit better, in my own way.
I try not to make theories, but I wonder if I have seen them before. I wonder if they were comfortable at the end, especially with all the evidence of pathology that we have uncovered week by week, much to the shock of the med student who inevitably learns from the suffering of others.
Leashing back an overactive imagination, I try to focus on the task at hand, teasing the fascia with a scalpel, persistently double-gloved and hopefully precise. But I migrate back to my questions eventually. My very task itself is a gift they offered.
It is as if I am trying to understand such a level of selflessness and vulnerability. Each week, they become less recognizable, and the more I appreciate their decision. I have learned from donors in the past, standing at a polite distance as the TA points and quickly runs through the list of viscera and muscles. However, this time I am actually touching a dead body. I have never touched a dead body before. Some of my peers have never seen a dead body before. Start to finish, I am their student, learning from their experiences and life stories and trying to distance myself just enough to work.
Close shaven black and white hair on the back of their neck. ‘Don’t speculate,’ I tell myself. Holding a hand as I adjust the arm (abduct) to better visualize the dissection site. ‘But I can’t help but wonder why,’ I think back.
I wonder what encouraged them one day to fill out the form. I wondered if they loved the idea of teaching the next generation. If the pen shook in their aging hands as they thought of a message to leave behind, having made up their mind.
I hear my peers say that they could never make a decision like that. I don’t think I would. But the same thing can be said for teaching, or for medicine. There are as many versions of selflessness as there are nerves in the body.
They say that you’ll never forget your time in the anatomy lab, that it is a unique period of time that most people have not experienced, and is a part of becoming a medical student. Every day is a gift, I am reminded by a surgeon one morning. Teaching is a gift, that’s what my family instructed throughout my adolescence. Being able to give back, even if you will not see what will come of it, is a gift. Did they see it as a beautiful gift to future healers? Did they chuckle at the thought of what we might find amidst decades of pathologies? ‘Oh boy, wait till they get to the kidneys, they’ll have a blast…’ I’m speculating once again…
I hope I remember this moment, another piece of wisdom tossed in alongside the fire hydrant that is medical school. The value of selflessness, the necessity and beauty of giving back through sacrifice. There are opportunities for understanding if one looks for them.
And so, with that in mind, I try to return to my task of unweaving the brachial plexus, a bit more grateful.
Fatemah Alzuhairi
Fatemah Alzuhairi is a UACOMP med student from the class of 2028. She graduated from ASU in 2022 with a degree in biomedical sciences and a minor in history. In her spare time, she enjoys planning creative projects, reading, and drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey tea.