Cy*Burr // spring 2004

Final Exams
A morgue, 35 bodies and learning from human dissection. Behind the scenes of a real-life CSI

Surrounded by death, he seems alive. Joe Bernard leads the way down the long hallways of the Northeast Ohio Universities College of Medicine, greeting each passerby with a smile and a “Hello.” He seems to know everybody, and they know him.

Heading down to the basement, Bernard says he handles all cadaver donations and is an instructor in human anatomy. He has worked at NEOUCOM for 23 years.

Bernard works with the dead in a way few others ever can, using them as teaching tools.

“If you look at HBO, you’ll see bodies hung up on hooks,” Bernard says, explaining that it doesn’t actually happen.

“Look beyond this as a teaching tool. This is somebody’s mother, somebody’s father,” Bernard says, noting the absolute importance of respect. Respect for the body. Respect for the sacrifice.

The morgue houses approximately 35 bodies that are kept on hand for dissections. The mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers are in bags, awaiting their chance to enlighten yet another med student.

They are like the ashen faces of snowmen glowing in the moonlight—cold yet beautiful.

“Look beyond this as a teaching tool. This is somebody’s mother, somebody’s father.”

After students are done with the two-term dissection, the school holds a memorial service where loved ones of the deceased can reflect and remember. Bernard says the service creates a sense of closure for the loved ones. The donated bodies are sent immediately to NEOUCOM with no time for a wake or funeral.

One student sees the dissection as a way to sort out the anatomy of the body.

“It really helps keep stuff straight,” says Trent Albright, a first year med student.

Albright is with a couple of friends studying in the library. They become animated and excited when Bernard walks by.

Bernard stresses the importance of human anatomy. When a patient points to the right side of the body, Bernard says it is imperative the doctor knows what is on that side.

The dissection begins in the first term with the back, goes on to the arm, the head and eventually the neck. Nick Shundry, first year med student, says this gradual process makes the transition easier to handle mentally.

Various brains and bones are kept in jars and on shelves. The room is surprisingly warm. Refrigeration isn’t needed because the bodies have been embalmed to make them last three to four years, not for cosmetic reasons as done by funeral homes, Bernard says.

The dissection lab room contains countless stainless steel examining tables, sinks, chalk boards and lockers. It smells like dissection day back in high school biology.

Students are busy cutting away the skin and teasing the fat away from today’s lesson—the gluteus maximus region—to get a look at the pudendal nerve.

Delving into the incision, balls of yellow fat obstruct the muscle below. The fat leaves a greasy shine on gloves and instruments.

The students continually identify parts of the body, or at least try. Teaching assistants circle the lab and give the first-year med students much-needed help.

“You don’t have to be as careful as you think,” Andrea Sims says, explaining that teaching assistants often come by and use a lot of force to peel back skin or cut muscle. Sims finished her undergraduate work at Kent State.

Each subject has four med students learning from it. Sims says it’s better that way—in case a guy in the group is uncomfortable cutting at the prostate, for example, someone more comfortable can take care of it.

The class examined the head region weeks before. Sims says a teaching assistant would come around and use a power saw to cut through the skull. The crown of the head is cut in the fashion of a lobotomy, taking the top of the head off like a cap. A few groups improvise and use the leftover top portion of the skull as a basket to hold instruments, such as forceps, scalpels and scissors.

Gregory Harkey did his undergraduate work at Youngstown State University. He says he didn’t enjoy the idea of cutting up a body at first.

“The first time I came down here, I didn’t like it at all. I had to leave,” he says.

After three times, he says, most people don’t mind it.

Harkey continues to search for the day’s objective. His lab partner, Matthew Stonestreet, becomes frustrated while weeding through the fat and muscle in the gluteus maximus region.

“I’m cutting the shit out of something over here,” he says.

Melissa Hanek, first year med student, admits she isn’t big on blood.

“I can’t see surgeries. I just pass out. But this, this is nothing,” she says.

The body is drained of all fluids, including blood, during its preparation for dissection. This prevents rotting.

The body she is working on is far from rotting. She’s been working on it since September.

“This is from the first term. That’s why it looks like jerky,” Hanek says.

She and her lab partner, Stephen Cha, playfully argue over who found the larger artery in the upper thigh region, the femoral artery.

“Look. I found a bigger one,” Hanek says.

Bernard is continually making rounds, telling jokes and getting serious when it comes to the actual dissection.

Bernard is showing two students the difference between the greater and lesser femoral artery, jabbing his finger into both of the blood vessels for emphasis. The femoral artery supplies blood to the thigh region.

He seems excited and intent upon making others get it right.

“We’ve got more goodies over here,” he says, pointing to a wad of muscle tissue.

A student passes by, joking, “You’re a bastard, Joe.”

Bernard says the positive environment is key to making an uncomfortable class more interesting and more palatable.

“Back when I took anatomy, they didn’t let you talk,” Bernard says. “You can’t learn like that.”

There are a couple of guys next to his table. Bernard says he’s had quite a few of Harkey’s relatives, including siblings. He gives them all a hard time, but for a purpose—to learn.

Bernard embalms the body himself, which includes removing all body fluids and injecting it with embalming fluid. The fluid contains ethyl alcohol, pine oil for scent, a little formaldehyde and a mold-preventing agent.

The dissection isn’t just about anatomy. It allows for the betterment of doctors, and in turn, all human kind, Bernard says.

In the university’s library, Bernard gestures to a large metal cylinder, an antique iron lung. The machine was used to help a patient breathe but would have to be operated manually when the power went out.

He shakes his head in disgust.

“They talk about the good old days. Know what? Give me the now days.”