Days with the Dead- Gracie King
What do you want to be when you grow up? Over the years I have answered this inquiry, posed by dozens of teachers, scores of adult acquaintances, and practical legions of relatives with a variety of answers: Marine biologist, astronomer, crypto-zoologist, and as I went through my sarcastic tween years simply the word tall. All of these answers, excluding the last one of course, have had common theme of being related to the sciences, and my current answer lies in the same direction. When I grow up I want to be a forensic pathologist.
Last Winterim I interned with a forensic pathologist at her workplace, which was a lab owned by independent contractor called Forensic Medical located outside of downtown Nashville. Forensic pathology is a specialty of pathology, and another name for a forensic pathologist would be a medical examiner. A medical examiner’s job is to figure out the cause of death. In our state they are required to have a medical degree. These people investigate cause of death in criminal cases and in cases where a person has died under unknown circumstances.
My first day at work I was incredibly nervous, not so much about the prospect of seeing dead bodies, but about what the doctors and lab technicians would think of me. Usually when they had interns, they were college students from Vanderbilt that came in white-coated groups. I had already met the doctor I would be interning with at my interview - hilariously enough scheduled on Halloween - so I knew she was nice, but what about her coworker? So, there I was in the bitter freezing cold of Winter, outside in downtown Nashville, about to enter a building, and ironically much more scared of the living than the dead.
My worries, of course, were completely unfounded. Every medical examiner, lab technician, and death scene investigator in the building went out of their way to be helpful and were absolutely thrilled that a high school student was interested in their profession (as it is not exactly the most well-known or popular). Even the detectives that would sometimes visit were always extremely polite.
When I finally did begin to observe autopsies, both internal and external, I can only categorize the experience as amazing, and amazingly smelly. My first day, I will admit I was a little lite-headed when I saw them open up the first body. In class when we do dissections it smells strongly of formalhyde. The recently deceased however have not been so preserved and so they smell like meat, burned bodies smells like cooked meat, and rotting bodies (which smell so strongly they have their own room) smell like rotten meat. Luckily for me, I was born with a particularly strong stomach and a particularly weak sense of smell, so I spent the rest of my internship happily learning about the many ways a human can perish.
I also got to learn a little about what it is like to be a medical examiner, and about what being surrounded by so many of the deceased is like. I cannot talk much about specifics because of the confidentiality issues, but I can share a couple of stories.
As you may have guessed, cadavers are autopsied without any clothes on. While made me feel a bit awkward a first, I soon mostly got over it. Unfortunately for me, after anybody with male reproductive equipment dies they get checked for prostate cancer by having some said equipment opened and examined. That never got less awkward to watch, ever. I actually complained to a friend at one point “I never want to see another naked man again; I have seen too many of them dissected”.
Another time one of the pathologists showed me how to examine the contents of the cadaver’s stomach. I was very, very disgusted by this suggestion. Yet he continued to point out the various food items in the stomach, such a potatoes and carrots. The pathologist told me how what was in the stomach could be useful for anything from establishing cause of death to an alibi. It was all very useful information, but I still kept my distance.
The last experience had to do with plumbing. All of the scalpels, saws, and various other tools were washed off in the sinks that lined the room. Also washed down the drain in the room for the more decayed cadavers were the rotted bits, pieces, and fluids that came of the body. I asked what happened when their drain backed up, and the doctor that day told me it had only happened once. The one time it happened they called an experienced plumber, and he did his job without comment. Then upon leaving politely told them that he was never coming back if there sinks got clogged again.
As you can see, I learned a lot during my internship, here are some last tidbits for you all. First off, don’t do drugs, don’t smoke, and don’t drink to excess. I know you have heard that they are bad for your body, but take it from someone who has seen it first-hand. Nobody wants a blood filled mess of a brain, lungs that resemble dark shriveled balloons, or a liver that is more scar-tissue and fat than actual liver. I promise you it is not worth the risk. Secondly, livers are much bigger than they look in textbooks, and are now officially my favorite organ. And finally, leave room for your dreams to grow; nobody is ever really ready to decide the course of the rest of their life as a teenager. I would never, as a five year old, have known what I want to do today. So if you have never had an answer when asked what you want to do when you grow up, don’t sweat it.
Finally, shout-out to Devin Graham who will be interning at Forensic Med this Winterim. Also, thanks to Dr. Careny and the entire Forensic Medical team, as well as my mother Dr. Welch, and the Winterim office for setting up my internship. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for the experience.