by: Tanfer E.

Tunç

Deconstructing Dolores

Day. Dissection day .September 2,1998.

I woke up that morning with a feeling of nervous anticipation in the pit of my
stomach.
I had been to a wedding three nights before,and people were already asking me
“So how’s it going Doc? Do you have any Gruesome cadaver stories yet?”
“No,” I had to tell them,” I havent started dissecting yet.”
But now the day had finally come.I arrived at school Early that morning .
One hour before biochemistry lecture,so I could make sure that everything was in
order for lab that afternoon .
Someone told me to go and visit Neville, whose occupation was to take care of the
cadavers, the lab and the students working in the lab.

“What a job,” I said to myself . Nevertheless,I made my way toNeville’s

office and prepared myself for the horrific task ahead .

“ I have scrubs, a lab coat ,surgical gloves, and a surgical mask,” I said
to Neville as soon as I walked into the room I dont even think I introduced
myself.

Maybe I was distracted by the Tupperware containers housing brains,eyeballs,and

various other body parts .
“All I need now are goggles and plastic disposable booties to place over my new
sneakers.”
“ You dont need any of that –all you need are scrubs and gloves-that’s it “
he said
But how could that be ? I started to worry. Neville’s recommendations seemed
misguided.
There must be something else I needed to purchase for lab that day.
I needed to protect myself from the cadaver.
Neville must have seen the look of concern on my face, or maybe he was just
trying to make some money . “yes ,there is something else you can buy-a used
Grant’s Atlas of Anatomy-cheap-only $5,”he said.
“No thank you,”I said. “ I have a new one.”
Neville let out an abrupt guffaw. “you wont want that atlas after its been in the
lab,”he said.
He was right, but at the time ,I didnt think any think of it .I gathered my lab
accessories and ran off to biochemistry.
I decided to chang into my scrubs at luanchtime,that way I could beat the
rush and take my time going to lab .

As soon as I walked in anatomy class that afternoon , I found out I wasn’t the
only one who had thought of changing ahead of time .
In fact ,about fifty other people had the same Idea.
As I looked across the sea of green and blue scurbs,I wondered to myself if we
would ever be the same after this afternoon.
Probably not ,but then again medical school was supposed to change us.
Dissecting human cadavers is a rite of passage. SATs , MCATs, and the grueling
medical school application process were also allegedly rites of passage,and we all
know how fun they were.
.
 The first sensation I experienced When I opend the lab door was sheer
coldness.

The air conditioning must have been on full-blast,because I could see wisps of
my hair flying across my face.
Then came the smell-a mixture of noxious chemicals and rotting meat.
I spotted my lab partners and trying not to look at anything around the room ,
darted straight to our dissection table .
we had been assigned a female body. I was pleased because I thought it would
be easier to bond with a female cadaver .
jasad e yek zan be ma dade shodeh bood
We pulled away the white sheet that covered her body. She was lying face down.
We all breathed a sigh of relief. This is not that bad ,I said to myself, as
long as you dont look her face.
Before I could comprehend what was happening , Lara,another medical
student,said, ”she looks like a rubber doll - she doesn’t even look human .”
“Yeah,like one of those mannequins we used in CPR class last week -pink,with
her mouth always open,ready to be kissed,and a twisted look of pain on her face
,”Sari added.

I hope she didn’t suffer before she died,I thought to myself.

“O.K.,cutting time!”the loud, grating lab assistant shouted, which made everyone
roll their eyes and shake their heads in embarrassment .
Who was going to make the first incision? Who was going to cut the cadaver right
down the middle of its back,from its occipital protuberance all the way
down to its sacrum?we nervously started looking into each other’s faces.I made the
first move .
I picked up the shiny new scalpel and examined it .so this was the instrument that
was going to change us all.I looked at my lab partners,and they all gave me that
“no way-not me”face.
“I ll do it,” I said ,swallowing the anticipation that had been brewing in my
stomach since the encounter with Neville.
I could see the tension release from their instantly-maturing
countenances.
I had always been the one who had enough courage to make the first incision .
In seventh grade ,I was the first student to cut into the earthworm.
In ninth grade ,I made the first incision into the fetal pig.
In AP Biology, I dissected the cat. In every one of those instances ,I was the
one who had maintained focus while all of my classmates became instant animal
rights activists.Now I was begining to lose my composure.
The incision was smoother than I thought it would be .
“Dont Worry,” one of the assistants said. “this will become so natural to you
that one day you’ll even eat in here.”
“Never!” we all shrieked with disgust.
“You don’t have to be so careful,” the annoying assistant said.”Here,do this!”
With that short exclamation ,he came over to our table ,violently pulled a chunk
out of our cadaver’s back,and threw it in to a bucket under the table .We were
all speechless.The dehumanizing aspect of it was abominable.
“We should give her a name,”one of my lab partners said,breaking the horror-
laden silence. But what could we name a dead woman ?
“Dolores !”Sari shouted “Yes,Dolores! Like the Dolores from the episode of
SEINFELD!”
We all agreed it was an appropriate name ,plus non of us knew a Dolores ,which
sealed the deal.
One of our laboratory assistants warned us not to name her .That would make her
too human . But why not?She was a human being .
She looks like a Dolores-like a highschool cafeteria lunch lady,or maybe
someone ‘s grandmother,”Lara said.
She was probably the latter . Maybe the type of grandmother who baked
gingerbread cookies ,shopped at flea markets, and wore over powering perfume.
The only perfume she ‘ll ever wear now consist of preservatives and embalming
fluid.
Formaldehyde.
We both shared the same scent . I became aware of this that first night ,when I
raised the fork to my mouth at dinner.I smelled the chemicals on my hands.
I smelled Dolores .It didnot matter how many times I washed my hands ,the smell
wouldnt wash away.

I scrubbed my hands with pine –scented lysol cleaner,but my hands only smelled
like an evergreen forest tinged with formaldehyde. After that,I did’nt even
bother Scrubbing my hands to eliminatethe scent .I had to accept that part of who
I had become.

Dolores’ life story was inscribed all over her body ,which had become
our storyteller.
Her pacemaker told us of her weak heart;her dammeged patella indicated knee
surgery ;her bloody cerebrum told us of the hemorrhage that finally ended her
life.
She was eighty- three years old at the time of her death and was from upstate New
York .She suffered from Alzheimer’s disease.Her stomach and intestines were empty.
Did your illness prevent you from eating Dolores? Were Your last days spent on
İntravenous feeding? The scars on your body were caused by doctors,yet you gave
your body for us to dissect,even after death.You have heard our innermost
secrets,our complains,our jokes.What do you think of us?
In the bright fluorescent light of the lab ,everything is harshly obvious.our eyes
,tired from all -night cramming ,have greeted you far too many times .
Your name means”sorrow” in spanish. Do you feel any of the sorrow that we have
felt tearing your body apart?
Would you have donated your body if you had known what it was going to
look like after we had finished ?
You will never be able to answer any of my questions,but Dolores ,you and I have
something in common that no one else will ever be able to take away from us .
You and I were both “first years.” I in medical school,and you in death.We both
began our journeys together.