My Donor

I started this post a month ago, but was too afraid to post it and got lost in the throws of finishing first year. However, before I discuss anything else, I wanted to be sure to discuss the most meaningful experience I have had in medical school so far. 

Throughout my Anatomy course, my donor, James would suddenly seem alive to me. A scar, the stubble on his chin, his thick head of hair - I would see something and it would snap me out of the current dissection and spin me into thoughts about what his life was like.  The first week that I met James, one of my lab partners pointed out a ghost-like divet of a wedding ring around his ring finger, and we all stood in silence reflecting on what that meant. James had a family. People were missing him as we spent hours getting to know him in such an intimate way. As the course went on, I learned everything there was to know about James's body - the curves of his brain, the tiny bones that allowed him to hear, the arteries of his heart, and even the pancreatic cancer that ultimately took his life. However, I was unable to discover how he lived, who he was, what he meant to the family he left behind.

At the end of our gross anatomy course, Tufts held a memorial service for the students and family of the donors to meet and reflect on the people that started us off towards our careers. On the day of the memorial I was extremely nervous. I mean, what do you say to the family? How can you truly explain how much the experience meant to you? I tried to come up with what to say before the memorial, but nothing felt right and I just hoped that if James's family showed up, I would be able to understand more about James's life and maybe bring his family some form of comfort in return.

The memorial was beautiful, thanks to the many talented students at Tufts. They wrote poems and reflections, sang songs, played instruments, and I felt that everyone in the audience was able to understand the gift that the donors gave us. At the end of the service, our professor asked if any family members would like to speak. One lone hand shot up, and a young woman was directed to the stage. She mentioned her husband James, or Jim, and pancreatic cancer and I knew she was talking about my donor. My stomach heaved and my eyes filled with tears. I was amazed at her bravery as she told us about Jim's decision to become a donor, his experiences as a medical student in gross anatomy, and how much it meant to her to meet us. As soon as the ceremony ended I sprinted down to meet her. And the first thing I saw was the ring on a necklace around her neck. The ring that left the divet.

James gave us many gifts as our donor -  knowledge, appreciation for the human body, an ability to understand the many terms we hear in our courses. However, Jim's wife filled in the empty spaces that the gross anatomy course left behind. I was able to comprehend the importance of compassion, empathy, and human experience. I was able to understand concepts that you can't find in Netters Atlas of Anatomy. His wife gave us a copy of the pamphlet from his memorial. We saw pictures of Jim and learned about what he was like in life. We learned about his family, his children, his passions, his interests. I will never forget the experience, and will never forget Jim or his family. I am so thankful for the experience that Jim and his wife gave me. As a team, they introduced me to the most important foundations of medicine. As I continue through my journey I can look back and remember the gifts that they gave me so that in return I can help my patients with both knowledge and compassion.