1926                 1996...

Story # 2

THE DEAD MAN WARNING

Medicine was my passion. I had felt like Sherlock Holmes decoding patterns of nature, getting to the why and the how of life. Preparing myself to the entry examination at Wroclaw Medical University was hard - I devoted all of myself into it. First, I drafted the prep plan - 3 weeks allocated for the 3 main subjects (biology, chemistry, physics); 1 week per subject then one week for synthesising, rehearsing everything. After the examination , when I came to find myself on the list the candidates were displayed in order of points earned. I chose to start my scanning from the bottom - checking names of those who didn’t make it. The failed list was 3 times longer than those who succeeded. Did not find myself there. Then, driven by a spark of hope I jumped to the “Passed” list and started from the lowest scorer. There where hundreds names altogether.  This was intense - hot day, joy and sadness, disappointment dancing together in vigorous squeeze limited by Times New Roman 12 fonts visibility. I got tense - no trace of my name and I was approaching the second hundred, then the first hundred, the first fifty… was pushed away by the crowed for a moment… got back. Finally spot it and froze in an awe - I found myself on 20th place  out of hundreds of applicants. Later I learned that most people in the first hundred used payed tutoring on all examinations subjects. Being aware that I have never used payed tutoring a shadow of pride befriended me for a while.
The first and second year passed with ease. Most examinations, including the King - the Human Anatomy I volunteered to be the first student to pass - before the official exam session date. I needed no prep since my passionate curiosity fuelled the drive to  study everyday, on the go - born out of the need to decode the nature patterns. Pathology was at third year. Everyone waited for it - we were to interact with the death - the deceased human. Pathology was perceived as a “real subject” dealing with direct causes of human body to die. It was Sherlock Holmes ethos rediscovered for me. Examining a dead body to confirm or refute the original diagnosis formulated by a Doctor who treated the patient personally was a puzzle nowhere to find. The Doctor was often present at the autopsy session what was potentially disturbing since 30-40 students witnessed it, watched every cut and processed every ward. This was something - my passion hot and radiating like a fluid metal. One of the “heaviest”, content-reach subjects passed like a mosquito flying by. Again, I enlisted for the earlier possible examination date to the iconic and widely admired lady professor - the Pathology Cathedral Head.
I passed it without a single flop. After 30 min of extensive questioning the Professor started to discuss Pathology role in Medicine with me. She offered me an Assistant position in her Cathedral when I finish studies in 3 years.
3 years later I was working there. I did lectures for the whole year students population - 300-400 souls and research autopsies for students groups at the operational theatre. Befriending death, touching the core of nature and human dignity in the name of science was a monumental and transformative experience.
Franek was responsible for autopsy fridges at the autopsy facility. I respected him and he knew it. I spot an opportunity to learn more. My personal vision at that time was to become a neuro-surgeon specialising in brachial plexus reconstructions after traffic accidents.
I volunteered to the Trauma Clinic and assisted in emergency operations/interventions at weekend 24h shifts. I dreamed to be the best; decided to connect both worlds - learn on the deceased to save mistakes on the living people. I asked Franek a favour one day: “Could you get me a hint when there is a body in the fridge that no one claims ?  I want to perform a specific neuro-surgery operation to learn”. Franek was a simple man; he trusted me; said: yes. We agreed a plan. Franek will inform me that there is an opportunity, set a cadaver in the dissecting room and close the whole facility. I will appear there late in the night to do my surgery.
These were the dark times for science in Poland - no or very limited access to international research, modern handbooks. The only way to get access to the up-to-date research was via “book charity”. Medical University library was getting specialised literature from “the West” - USA, UK periodically in ridiculous amounts - a bunch of randomly selected books had been appearing every 2-3 months. I was a frequent visitor there befriending the all-female librarian team; spending 2 Saturdays a month there studying research papers in the reading room, exchanging smiles, small talks before and after. I asked one of the librarians  to retain for me any american surgery related books coming. She did it. I got access to a brilliantly illustrated edition of a handbook for plexus brachialis surgeons. Grabbing the book for the first time and paging it like crazy in the tram going back home - I was in heaven.
The plan was launched. I started my own way of preparing to be a surgeon. My “How?” was simple: “before cutting flesh of a living person - do it multiple times on a dead one. Every week or two you could had found me as the only person in the murky, cold century old brick building with yellow, spotty lighting, smelling death - the last sensation unforgettable for life.
The scariest thing was to get to the autopsy room and the wrap up after; between - the pure passion burning and the feeling of mission fulfilled. At those moments there were just 3 elements in the universe: the book - opened on the specific reconstruction surgery procedure page, me and the cadaver of infinite patience. I dissected tissues, got to the nerve, cut it and started my reconstructive surgery unattended by anyone; usually it took me 2-3 hours to complete the reconstruction and close the wound.
To get to the dissecting room I had to open the main door first. It resembled a church main entry portal. You had to use a huge, 12 cm long key, then climb 2 flights of stony, polished by thousands students stairs, to get to the Pathology Department floor. I had to pass 30 meters long corridor. To to get to the light-switch at the end, in total darkness, I had to use my hand sliding on the wall as a probe. I knew a cadaver awaits me in the autopsy room. The fear was like a wet, sticky, heavy blanket enveloping my body, my consciousness; every single thought was wrapped in it. Getting out after this was even worse. The sequence was reversed: light off and getting back with a weird feeling of guilt flirting with dignity of death - the cadaver resting after my surgery meters behind my back. My brain was testing every random sound against an imagined pattern of him raising and following me.
One night after an operation I got home and fell asleep. This night will stay in my memory for life. 30 years after I remember every second of the experience. This proved to be pivotal for my approach to medicine learning.  The cadaver payed me a visit. The dreamed story was a copy-paste one of the regular experience but… with a little twist.
I got to the building, opened the main door, climbed the stairs, passed the corridor to get to the light switch, lights on - straight to the changing room. Got changed and… before entering the autopsy room I decided to use the toilette. There were 2 doors. I grabbed the handle on the right trying to enter. It didn’t let go. There was a rubbery feedback to my pulling - I decided to overcome it; used all my power to overcome it… the door got released. On the toilet seat a creature was resting - naked, bloodied, front chest wall missing, no internal organs. The head, shoulders, pelvis, hands and legs were fully functional, moving, eyes open; skin light grey. He was lighting fast - grabbed my collar and started pulling with an off-road winch power - slowly centimetre by centimetre. I tried to brake the grip - no way; this was unstoppable, my face moving towards his face; the pull stopped at 5 cm distance. He was staring with milky pupils straight into my eyes. No movement, no breathing, silence.
He said: “I’ll do to you what you did to me”.
I was awake and sitting on the bed in a split-second. Heart rushing, sweating cold. Never did the “operation” on cadavers again. Human body as an ultimate expression of creation will always stay as a monument to admire and protect for me.