A couple of days ago, I finally went to assist to a human autopsy. It was something I had been wanting to see for quite some time and never really got around to do. My main interest was strictly academic. I am one of those who learns from experience. Nevertheless, I also went I guess you could say to "test myself", to get a proof on my real predisposition and attitude for the medical profession. Having been preparing myself for any possible (and very understanding) shock or insufference, I was totally surprised to see how incredibly well I took the whole thing. I was impassive,couragious, strong and, dare I say, excited somewhat like a little girl in a candy shop.. (I truly hope you won't judge this harshly as it is a mere representation of my profound passion for medical sciences). On the way home I started to elaborate what had actually happened: the 65, male, cancer patient suddenly became a father, friend, employee, neighbour. His body may have been torn apart on a slab, but the memory of who he had been still remained. Who was he? What had he been up to his whole life? It made me think of the "Everyman" morality play from the XV century when Death comes knocking on the Everyman's door and he has to figure out, before he hits the grave, what really mattered in life. Beauty vanishes. So do Discretion and, obviously, Strength. A man's strength had definitively left his body and I couldn't help but wander what had he actually left behind,but more personally if I will actually take Knowledge and Good Deeds away with me to Heaven one day.. I'll sure try to do my best.
