YL5 Week 11: Facing Death– Cadavers and Dying to Oneself

 YL5 Week 11: Facing Death– Cadavers and Dying to Oneself

I started jogging when this week began. Why? I realized that even spending a half day at ASMPH (including the 1 hour travel time there and 1 hour travel time back), my sedentary lifestyle was not suited to lasting so long. Last monday, we just had a live version of Team Based Learning (TBL) which includes individual assessment of a quiz first then the same quiz discussed in a group context. Even after just this, when I got home I napped for 2 whole hours. 

All things considered, this week was relatively relaxed at least in the sense of academic stress. The second day of face to face (Tuesday) was a histology lab where we looked at the same slides we did in our very first face-to-face. I remember trying to contain my blue rosary on my left hand as I looked at the slides while praying (not the other way around). I'm thankful it was this meditative aspect of prayer that helped me learn a few things. We knew that histology wasn't even part of the exam on Saturday, and so many used this day as an excuse to chat while looking at microscopic things– or worse yet they used them as props for a face to face photoshoot. It's relaxed in that sense indeed– even the next day's material was what we had done already before. 

Wednesday-Friday had the exact same consistent structure: the am people came in at 7:30 and left around 12:10 pm. There were 4 stations. My group started with bones and imaging then proceeded to cadaveric dissection. After donning and doffing our PPEs in dissection, we moved to the fancy Anatomage– indeed it is as my mentor told me her daughter called it– a giant "iPad". Finally, we would move to the plastinated cadavers. 

It is a strange affair being in the face of death. Many of our instructors asked us if we ever felt shocked initially. These are actual bodies of people who have died. And yet we learnt perhaps more about surgical technique than anatomy during the dissection hour; we also practiced our rusty social skills as well. I remember praying throughout the day, especially for what we're reminded are our "silent mentors"– the bones, the cadavers, the plastinated parts. All of them are teaching us in a way the computer cannot. And so I'd say the partially indulgenced prayer "eternal rest grant upon their souls, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace, Amen". In doing so, I didn't feel any deeper connection to the dead, but to the Lord. In many senses, they have already passed on, and if they chose heaven, are closer to Him than ever before– purgatory or not.

During the anatomage sessions, our three groups would alternate 20 minutes on the machine. During my 40 minutes of downtime, I would bring out my copy of Fr. James Martin's Jesuit Guide to almost everything and read. I have been struggling lately with motivation, and the theme of this semester seems to be about this (and perhaps of my whole life). Apparently my enneagram reveals this to be one of my major issues– unless it's an adventure or something worth giving one's all to only the time pressures and their consequences if not met would muster up meaning to do such things. 

But the catch for me in my spiritual life now is that it affects me with guilt. Sometimes it's all too easy to say I'm weak or I just need a break. Do I deserve such things? Shouldn't I suffer more? But at least when one suffers one feels things. The only thing that can come to me from learning the differences in innervation of the hand seems to me a nuisance and boredom. And in the face of this perceived "hassle", I had realized I was perhaps not acknowledging my burn out, or the aftereffects that lie therein. And so I clung to more and more prayer. Or I'd watch youtube videos that taught me more about the faith. My faith is one of those things that got so activated in me that it reminds me of the adventure that I set on. 

However, I had been leaning on this for wrong reasons– for procrastination. It may be peculiar to procrastinate in prayer. How does that sound like? Well, it's kind of hypocritical. Almost like imposter syndrome perhaps. I felt unlike the person who would cherish spending just a breath praying the Jesus prayer. It felt like I was the criticism against Catholics merely saying memorized prayers– "vain repetition!". Perhaps I felt less useful than the silent mentor of the cadaver I've worked on with my group mates for 4 days. Laziness has that grip, I ran daily to listening to the Bible in the year trying to catch up to clear my mind of these things. But as I slipped into a mundane gait, I still persisted in prayer, however vain it was. 

It was not until Friday came that I came across the third chapter of the Jesuit Guide. It piqued my interest– it was on desire. Passionate was a word that describes me a lot– being a recovering hopeless romantic, a Christian of an Augustinian stripe, and a philosopher intrigued with the fire that makes people human intrinsically. There, recalling just to mind, Fr. Martin had described the need to pray for what seems obvious. For the longest time, I had thought that I just had to figure out what to do– jog more every day so I feel less lazy, or stay firm in prayer even when it's dull– then slowly but surely it would work itself out. And this is partly true, yes. However, I was missing the bigger picture. The point of prayer or even of jogging isn't just endurance but also cultivation. how many times must I quote Augustine– "you move us to delight in praising you". 

That fire and passion that really ignites oneself always seems to not come from the self, yet it is within. It is a gift that seeks to go out of the self and connect with another in love. This desire is either latent or dulled, at least for me when I forget to be aware of this. And even in acknowledging it, the next step would then be to pray. Pray for what seems glaringly obvious: "Lord increase my desire for medicine" or "Lord help me to desire to learn what I should learn". It was the petition, the request of prayer I had missed. I always told myself "I should learn these things, it is good to do so" yet would be frustrated as to why I didn't. Well at least for me at this point in my spiritual journey, faith was not going away. I said previously already– medicine without works is dead. And yet it took a simple yet heartfelt prayer at night– for desire and also to help redirect the desires I already have to what is true, good and beautiful, did I wake up feeling overjoyed. 

It felt like a switch waking up. Not only was my desire for studying heightened– this was what it felt like to study back in cell, no matter how hard– but also my love for others have increased somewhat. A poor choice of words perhaps yet it was through this entrustment to God, this dying to myself, that faith latent within me was made manifest. It was Saturday early morning and I studied for the exam at 8 in the morning. I felt like I had learnt more in that period than half the week I spent in the dissection. It all kind of came together. After the exam was over there was a spiritual retreat the campus ministry organized. Being part of the campus ministry, I advertised it to my batch as usual and was delighted to find some fellow batchmates joining in. I was able to share my "cannonball" moment, as they called it– in reference to St. Ignatius of Loyola's life changing experience being hit by a cannonball defending a castle. 

My story of redemption where things were so low– rock bottom–a and yet I struggled in vain to go ever deeper. Finding God even at the darkest depths was what made the light I found shine so much brighter. As Kierkegaard says– Faith sees best in the dark. This newness of faith can get hard the longer and longer one remains Christian– it takes a radical renewal of vows every morning– to keep choosing God. But just as we stumble we must remember ever still that His mercies are new every morning.

This week, I found myself, was the sudden change– yet another cannonball that "killed" my mundane self (at least for now). The next week comes yet anon to challenge me yet again to choose. Head and Neck module starts next week and I am only ever more attached to praying about desire– it seems the most intimate origin of what Aristotle in the metaphysics describes "all men desires to know". Dwelling on desire, it is always a good idea to take time to renew one's conviction to study medicine, especially in the seemingly overwhelming stream of workload to do. I say it again ever renewed, Medicine without works is dead. One must do something with the opportunity and privilege to learn a way to reach out to those who are suffering, and mutually share in it, just as our Lord came to share in our passion by becoming flesh and dwelling among us.