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ما پوشش سفيد رويش را كنار گذاشتيم .او به رو خوابيده بود .ما همگي يك نفس راحت كشيديم .با خود گفتيم كه تا وقتي
صورتش را نبينيم ،اين آن قدر هم بد نيست .قبل از اينكه متوجه اوضاع شوم ،يكي از دانشجويان پزشكي ،لرا ،گفت :مثل يك
عروسك لستيكي است و اصلً شبيه آدم نيست.
ساري گفت :آره مثل يكي از همين مانكنهاي صورتي با دهن باز كه هفته گذشته ما در كلس cprاستفاده كرديم ،همانكه
دهانش هميشه باز بود و آماده بوسيدن ،وبانگاهي پيچيده از درد توي صورتش.
با خود انديشيدم ،اميدوارم قبل از اينكه فوت كنه زجر نكشيده باشه.
خوب ،وقت بريدن است دستيار آزمايشگاه بلند داد زد ،طوري كه چشم همه گرد شد و سرشان را با دست پاچگي تكان دادند.
كي مي خواست اولين برش را بدهد؟ كي مي خواست جسد را از دست وسط پشت از پاي برجستگي جمجمه تا پايين دنبالچهاش
را برش بدهد؟
با اضطراب به صورت همديگر نگاه كرديم.
اولين حركت از من بود.
من تيغ نو و براق را برداشتم وامتحانش كردم .پس اين وسيله اي بود كه قرار بود همه ما را تغيير دهد.
من به هم گروه هايم نگاه كردم و از چهره همه آنها خواندم كه مي گويند «من نه ».
من با قورت دادن انتظار آنچه كه از زمان ديدن نويل در دلم مي جوشيد ،گفتم « :من مي كنم».
من مي توانستم آسودگي از هيجان ناشي از رشد آني را در چهره هايشان ببينم.
من هميشه اولين كسي بودم كه دل و جرات بريدن را داشتم.
در كلس هفتم اولين دانش آموزي بودم كه توانست كرم خاكي را برش دهد.
در كلس نهم ،اولين برش بر روي جنين خوك را انجام دادم.
در بيولوژي جانوري ،من گربه را تشريح كردم.
در هر يك از اين نمونه ها،من كسي بودم توجه ام فراهم بود در حاليكه همه ديگر هم كلسهايم مدافع حقوق حيوانات شدند.
حال داشتم خونسرديم را از دست مي دادم.
برش نرمتر از چيزي بود كه من فكرش را مي كردم.
يكي از دستياران گفت :نگران نباش اين كار آنقدر طبيعي مي شود كه حتي يك روز اينجا غذا مي خوري.
ما همه با انزجار داد زديم« ،هرگز»
دستيار آزار دهنده گفت :لزم نيست اينقدر محتاط باشيد ،اينجوري كار كنيد! بعد از آن بيان مختصر سرميز ما آمد و با بي
رحمي يك تكه از جسد را كند و توي سطل زير ميز انداخت.
همه ما ساكت بوديم.
قسمت ضد بشري موضوع زشت و ناپسند بود .يكي از همگروهی هايم سكوت حاكم از ترس را شكست و گفت « :ما بايد
برايش اسم بگذاريم» اما ما چه اسمي مي توانستيم براي يك زن مرده بگذاريم؟
ساري داد زد « :دلرس!» بلكه دلرس ،مثل دلرس تو سريال SEINFELP
همگي موافق بوديم كه اسم مناسبي بود .علوه بر اين هيچكدام از ما كسي به اسم دلرس را كه معامله را مهر كرده بود نمي
شناخت.
يكي از دستياران به ما گوشزد كرد كه برايش اسم نگذاريم چرا كه اين كار را انساني تر خواهد كرد.
اما چرا كه نه ؟ او يك انسان بود.
لرا گفت :او شبيه دلرس است ،مثل خانم مسئول ناهار خوري دبيرستان يا شايد مادر بزرگ كسي.
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احتمالً دوميش بود.
شايد از آن مادر بزرگها كه كلوچه زنجفيلي مي پخت ،از مغازه هاي خيلي كوچك خريد مي كرد و عطرهاي خيلي تند مي زد.
الن تنها عطرش فرمالين بود كه تركيبي از محلولهاي نگه دارنده مثل كافور و موميا بود.
پاورقي ( :فرم الدئيد :گاز بي رنگي كه براي ضد عفوني بكار ميره)
ما هر دو يك بو را داشتيم.
من اين را اولين شب وقتيكه موقع شام داشتم چنگال را به دهان مي بردم متوجه شدم.
دستهايم بوي مواد شيميايي مي داد.
بوي دلرس را مي دادم .مهم نبود كه چند بار دستانم را شسته بودم .بو هنوز نرفته بود.
مواد ضدعفوني كننده با عطر كاج به دستهايم ماليدم اما دستانم مثل جنگل هميشه سبز كه با فرم الدئيد آميخته باشد بو مي داد.
بعد ازآن ديگر سعي نكردم كه حتي چيزي به دستم بزنم تا آن بو را از بين ببرم.
مي بايست آن قسمت از شخصيتي را كه پيدا كرده بودم مي پذيرفتم.
داستان زندگي دلرس در تمام وجودش ثبت بود آنچه براي ما ناقل داستان شده بود .
باطري قلب حكايت ضعف قلبش را داشت ،كاسه صدمه ديده زانويش نشانه عمل زانو بود و بالخره مغز خونينش از خونريزي
مغزي كه به حيات او پايان داده بود مي گفت.
در زمان فوتش 83سال داشت واهل نيويورك بود.
بيماري فراموشي داشت.
معده و رده هايش خالي بود.
آيا بيماري تو مانع از خوردنت شده بود دلرس؟
آيا روزهاي آخر حياتت از طريق وريدي تغذيه مي شد؟
دكترها باعث همه آثار و زخمهاي بدن تو بودند و تو با اين همه جسدت را به ما دادي تا آن را بشكافيم ،حتي بعد از مرگ.
حال رازهاي دروني،شكايات و جوكهاي ما را شنيدي.
تو راجع به ما چي فكر مي كني؟
توي روشنايي لمپ مهتابي آزمايشگاه همه چيز خيلي واضح است.
چشمان ما خسته از يادگيري سريع در تمام طول شب بارها با تو همدردي كردند.
معني اسم تو به زبان اسپانيايي «غم» است.
آيا غمي كه موقع پاره كردن بدن تو مي كشيم حس مي كني؟
آيا اگر مي دانستي كه بعد از اتمام كار ما چه شكلي خواهي بود ،باز هم وجودت را اهدا مي كردي؟
تو هرگز قادر به پاسخگويي هيچيك از سوالتم نخواهي بود.
اما دلرس ،من و تو يك چيز مشترك داريم كه هيچ كس ديگري قادر نخواهد بود آن را از ما جدا سازد.
من و تو ،هر دو« سال اول» بوديم.
من سال اول دانشكده پزشكي و تو سال اول مرگت بود .ما هر دو سفرمان را با هم آغاز كرديم.
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Deconstructing Dolores
D-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
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were already asking me, “So how’s it going Doc? Do you have any gruesome cadaver stories
“?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 it was to take care of the
cadavers, the lab, and the students within it. What a job, I said to myself with a tone of
sarcastic disgust. Nevertheless, I made my way to Neville’s office and prepared myself for
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 don’t 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,“ I informed
.Neville
.You don’t need any of that – all you need are scrubs and gloves – that’s it,“ he replied“
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
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Neville must have seen the look of concern on my face, or maybe he was just trying to make
some money when he said, “Yes, there is something else you can buy – a used Grant’s
Neville let out an abrupt guffaw. “You won’t want that atlas after it’s been in the lab,“ he
.remarked
He was right, but at the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I gathered my lab accessories and
I decided to change into my scrubs at lunchtime, that way I could beat the rush and take my
time going to lab. As soon as I walked into 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 well. As I looked across the sea of green and blue scrubs 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
The first sensation I experienced as soon as I opened the lab door was sheer coldness. They
must have had the air-conditioning 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
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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. We pulled the white sheet that was covering
her body. She was lying face-down. We all breathed a sigh of relief. This is not that bad, I
Before I could rationalize what was happening around me Lara exclaimed, “She looks like a
Yeah, like one of those manikins 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,“ added Sari
O.K., cutting time!“ shouted the loud, grating lab assistant who made everyone roll their“
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“
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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
Don’t worry,“ said one of the assistants who was passing by. “This will become so natural to“
“!You don’t have to be so careful,“ said the annoying assistant. “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 into a bucket under the table. We were all speechless. The
We should give her a name,“ said one of my lab partners, breaking the horror-laden silence.“
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“!Yes Dolores! Like the Dolores from that episode of Seinfeld“
We all agreed it was an appropriate name, plus none 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 is a human being
She looks like a Dolores – like a high school cafeteria lunch lady, or maybe someone’s“
She was probably the latter. Maybe the type of grandmother who baked gingerbread cookies,
shopped at flea markets, and wore overpowering perfume. The only perfume she’ll ever
Formaldehyde
I became aware of this that night when I raised the fork to my mouth at dinner. I smelled the
chemicals on my hands. I smelled Dolores. It didn’t matter how many times I washed my
hands, the smell wouldn’t wash away. I scrubbed my hands with Lysol pine-scented cleaner,
but my hands only smelled like an evergreen forest tinged with formaldehyde. After that I
didn’t even bother scrubbing my hands to eliminate the scent. I had to accept that part of who
.I had become
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Dolores’ life story was inscribed all over her body, which had become our storyteller. Her
pacemaker told us of her weak heart; her damaged 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
Did your illness prevent you from eating, Dolores? Were your last days spent on intravenous
?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 complaints, our jokes. What do
you think of us? In the bright florescent 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
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