STIFF

TheCuriousLivesof HumanCadavers
MaryRoach
VIKING
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First published intheUnited States of Americaby W.W. Norton&
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First published inGreat Britainby Viking2003
Copyright Mary Roach, 2003
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Photo credits: titlepage: HultonDeutschCollection/Corbis; p.17: Getty
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ISBN 0-670-91217-4
Whether buried, burnt, snatched, dissected or decomposed, somepeople
havebeenmoreuseful dead thanalive. Fromtestingtheefficiency of the
guillotine, experiments to determinetheweight of thesoul, and
calibratingcrash-test dummies, to advances inmodernmedicine, the
deceased body has beenasilent partner to many of themajor advances in
theunderstandingof ourselves.
Inthis fascinating, unusual explorationinto themacabre, Mary Roach's
searchfor themany uses of thehumanbody stretches fromChinaand
themythof humandumplings, theghoulishhistory of nineteenth-
century body-snatchingand experiments involvingcrucifixionto check
theveracity of theTurinShroud, to apresent-day Body Farm, plastic-
surgery labs and conferences onhumancomposting.
Stiff tells astory of thelast 2,000years, inwhichcadavers havebeenat
theforefront of scientificexploration: fromAncient Egypt to medieval
pharmaciesand eventhecontemporary labs that havesuccessfully
performed ahead transplant onamonkey. Combiningrivetingstory-
tellingwithscience, history and reportage, Stiff is oneof thefunniest,
most intriguingbooks youwill ever read.
For wonderful Ed
Contents
Introduction
1. A HEAD ISA TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE
Practicingsurgeryonthedead
2. CRIMESOF ANATOMY
Bodysnatchingandother sordidtalesfromthedawnof humandissection
3. LIFE AFTER DEATH
Onhumandecayandwhat canbedoneabout it
4. DEAD MAN DRIVING
Humancrashtest dummiesandtheghastly, necessaryscienceof impact
tolerance
5. BEYOND THE BLACK BOX
Whenthebodiesof thepassengersmust tell thestoryof acrash
6. THE CADAVER WHO JOINED THE ARMY
Thestickyethicsof bulletsandbombs
7. HOLY CADAVER
Thecrucifixionexperiments
8. HOW TO KNOW IF YOU'RE DEAD
Beating-heart cadavers, liveburial, andthescientificsearchfor thesoul
9. JUST A HEAD
Decapitation, reanimation, andthehumanheadtransplant
10. EAT ME
Medicinal cannibalismandthecaseof thehumandumplings
11. OUT OF THE FIRE, INTO THE COMPOST BIN
Andother newwaystoendup
12. REMAINSOF THE AUTHOR
Will sheor won't she?
Acknowledgments
Bibliography
Introduction
Theway I seeit, beingdead is not terribly far off frombeingonacruise
ship. Most of your timeis spent lyingonyour back. Thebrainhas shut
down. Thefleshbegins to soften. Nothingmuchnew happens, and
nothingis expected of you.
If I wereto takeacruise, I would prefer that it beoneof thoseresearch
cruises, wherethepassengers, whilestill spendingmuchof theday lying
ontheir backs withblank minds, also get to help out withascientist's
researchproject. Thesecruises taketheir passengers to unknown,
unimagined places. They givethemthechanceto do thingsthey would
not otherwiseget to do.
I guess I feel thesameway about beingacorpse. Why liearound onyour
back whenyoucando somethinginterestingand new, somethinguseful?
For every surgical proceduredeveloped, fromheart transplants to gender
reassignment surgery, cadavers havebeentherealongsidethesurgeons,
makinghistory intheir ownquiet, sundered way. For two thousand
years, cadaverssomewillingly, someunwittinglyhavebeeninvolved
inscience's boldest strides and weirdest undertakings. Cadavers were
around to help test France's first guillotine, the"humane" alternativeto
hanging. They werethereat thelabs of Lenin's embalmers, helpingtest
thelatest techniques. They'vebeenthere(onpaper) at Congressional
hearings, helpingmakethecasefor mandatory seat belts. They'veridden
theSpaceShuttle(okay, pieces of them), helped agraduatestudent in
Tennesseedebunk spontaneous humancombustion, beencrucified ina
Parisianlaboratory to test theauthenticity of theShroud of Turin.
Inexchangefor their experiences, thesecadavers agreeto asizable
amount of gore. They aredismembered, cut open, rearranged. But here's
thething: They don't endureanything. Cadavers areour superheros: They
bravefirewithout flinching, withstand falls fromtall buildings and head-
oncar crashes into walls. Youcanfireagunat themor runaspeedboat
over their legs, and it will not fazethem. Their heads canberemoved
withno deleterious effect. They canbeinsixplaces at once. I takethe
Supermanpoint of view: What ashameto wastethesepowers, to not use
themfor thebetterment of humankind.
This is abook about notableachievements madewhiledead. Thereare
peoplelongforgottenfor their contributions whilealive, but
immortalized inthepages of books and journals. Onmy wall is a
calendar fromtheMtter Museumat theCollegeof Physicians of
Philadelphia. Thephotographfor October is of apieceof humanskin,
marked up witharrows and tears; it was used by surgeons to figureout
whether anincisionwould beless likely to tear if it ranlengthwiseor
crosswise. To me, endingup anexhibit intheMtter Museumor a
skeletoninamedical school classroomis likedonatingmoney for apark
benchafter you'regone: anicethingto do, alittlehit of immortality. This
is abook about thesometimes odd, oftenshocking, always compelling
things cadavers havedone.
Not that there's anythingwrongwithjust lyingaround onyour back. In
its way, rottingis interestingtoo, as wewill see. It's just that thereare
other ways to spend your timeas acadaver. Get involved withscience.
Beanart exhibit. Becomepart of atree. Someoptions for youto think
about.
Death. It doesn't haveto beboring.
Therearethosewho will disagreewithme, who feel that to do anything
other thanbury or crematethedead is disrespectful. That includes, I
suspect, writingabout them. Many peoplewill find this book
disrespectful. Thereis nothingamusingabout beingdead, they will say.
Ah, but thereis. Beingdead is absurd. It's thesilliest situationyou'll find
yourself in. Your limbs arefloppy and uncooperative. Your mouthhangs
open. Beingdead is unsightly and stinky and embarrassing, and there's
not adamnthingto bedoneabout it.
This book is not about deathas indying. Death, as indying, is sad and
profound. Thereis nothingfunny about losingsomeoneyoulove, or
about beingthepersonabout to belost. This book is about thealready
dead, theanonymous, behind-the-scenes dead. Thecadavers I haveseen
werenot depressingor heart-wrenchingor repulsive. They seemed sweet
and well-intentioned, sometimes sad, occasionally amusing. Somewere
beautiful, somemonsters. Someworesweatpants and somewerenaked,
someinpieces, others whole.
All werestrangers to me. I would not want to watchanexperiment, no
matter how interestingor important, that involved theremains of
someoneI knew and loved. (Thereareafew who do. RonnWade, who
runs theanatomical gifts programat theUniversity of Maryland at
Baltimore, told methat someyears back awomanwhosehusband had
willed his body to theuniversity asked if shecould watchthedissection.
Wadegently said no.) I feel this way not becausewhat I would be
watchingis disrespectful, or wrong, but becauseI could not, emotionally,
separatethat cadaver fromthepersonit recently was. One's owndead
aremorethancadavers, they areplaceholders for theliving. They area
focus, areceptacle, for emotions that no longer haveone. Thedead of
sciencearealways strangers.[1]
Let metell youabout my first cadaver. I was thirty-six, and it was eighty-
one. It was my mother's. I noticeherethat I used thepossessive"my
mother's," as if to say thecadaver that belonged to my mother, not the
cadaver that wasmy mother. My momwas never acadaver; no person
ever is. Youareapersonand thenyouceaseto beaperson, and a
cadaver takes your place. My mother was gone. Thecadaver was her
hull. Or that was how it seemed to me.
It was awarmSeptember morning. Thefuneral homehad told meand
my brother Rip to show up thereabout anhour beforethechurchservice.
Wethought therewerepapers to fill out. Themorticianushered us into a
large, dim, hushed roomwithheavy drapes and too muchair-
conditioning. Therewas acoffinat oneend, but this seemed normal
enough, for amortuary. My brother and I stood thereawkwardly. The
morticiancleared his throat and looked toward thecoffin. I supposewe
should haverecognized it, as we'd picked it out and paid for it theday
before, but wedidn't. Finally themanwalked over and gestured at it,
bowingslightly, inthemanner of amatred' showingdiners to their
table. There, just beyond his openpalm, was our mother's face. I wasn't
expectingit. Wehadn't requested aviewing, and thememorial service
was closed-coffin. Wegot it anyway. They'd shampooed and waved her
hair and madeup her face. They'd doneagreat job, but I felt taken, as if
we'dasked for thebasiccarwashand they'd goneahead and detailed her.
Hey, I wanted to say, wedidn't order this. But of courseI said nothing.
Deathmakes us helplessly polite.
Themorticiantold us wehad anhour withher, and quietly retreated. Rip
looked at me. Anhour? What do youdo withadead personfor anhour?
Momhad beensick for alongtime; we'd doneour grievingand crying
and sayinggoodbye. It was likebeingserved asliceof pieyoudidn't
want to eat. Wefelt it would berudeto leave, after all thetroublethey'd
goneto. Wewalked up to thecoffinfor acloser look. I placed my palm
onher forehead, partly as agestureof tenderness, partly to seewhat a
dead personfelt like. Her skinwas cold theway metal is cold, or glass.
A week ago at that time, Momwould havebeenreadingtheValleyNews
and doingtheJumble. As far as I know, she'd donetheJumbleevery
morningfor thepast forty-fiveyears. Sometimes inthehospital, I'd get
up onthebed withher and we'd work onit together. Shewas bedridden,
and it was oneof thelast things shecould still do and enjoy. I looked at
Rip. Should weall do theJumbletogether onelast time? Rip went out to
thecar to get thepaper. Weleaned onthecoffinand read theclues aloud.
That was whenI cried. It was thesmall things that got to methat week:
findingher bingo winnings whenwecleaned out her dresser drawers,
emptyingthefourteenindividually wrapped pieces of chickenfromher
freezer, eachonelabeled "chicken" inher careful penmanship. And the
Jumble. Seeingher cadaver was strange, but it wasn't really sad. It wasn't
her.
What I found hardest to get used to this past year was not thebodies I
saw, but thereactions of peoplewho asked meto tell themabout my
book. Peoplewant to beexcited for youwhenthey hear youarewritinga
book; they want to havesomethingniceto say. A book about dead bodies
is aconversational curveball. It's all well and good to writeanarticle
about corpses, but afull-sizebook plants ared flagonyour character. We
knewMarywasquirky, but nowwe'rewonderingif she's, youknow, okay. I
experienced amoment last summer at thecheckout desk at themedical
school library at theUniversity of California, SanFrancisco, that sums up
what it is liketo writeabook about cadavers. A youngmanwas looking
at thecomputer record of thebooks under my name: ThePrinciplesand
Practiceof Embalming, TheChemistryof Death, Gunshot Injuries. Helooked
at thebook I now wished to check out: Proceedingsof theNinthStappCar
CrashConference. Hedidn't say anything, but hedidn't need to. It was all
thereinhis glance. OftenwhenI checked out abook I expected to be
questioned. Why do youwant this book? What areyouup to? What kind
of personareyou?
They never asked, so I never told them. But I'll tell younow. I'macurious
person. Likeall journalists, I'mavoyeur. I writeabout what I find
fascinating. I used to writeabout travel. I traveled to escapetheknown
and theordinary. Thelonger I did this, thefarther afield I had to go. By
thetimeI found myself inAntarcticafor thethird time, I beganto search
closer at hand. I beganto look for theforeignlands betweenthecracks.
Sciencewas onesuchland. Scienceinvolvingthedead was particularly
foreignand strangeand, inits repellent way, enticing. Theplaces I
traveled to this past year werenot as beautiful as Antarctica, but they
wereas strangeand interestingand, I hope, as worthy of sharing.
Footnotes:
[1] Or almost always. Every now and then, it will happenthat an
anatomy student recognizes alabcadaver. "I'vehad it happentwiceina
quarter of acentury," says HughPatterson, ananatomy professor at the
University of California, SanFrancisco, Medical School.
STIFF
1
A HeadisaTerribleThingtoWaste
Practicingsurgeryonthedead
Thehumanhead is of thesameapproximatesizeand weight as aroaster
chicken. I havenever beforehad occasionto makethecomparison, for
never beforetoday haveI seenahead inaroastingpan. But hereareforty
of them, oneper pan, restingfaceup onwhat looks to beasmall pet-food
bowl. Theheads arefor plasticsurgeons, two per head, to practiceon. I'm
observingafacial anatomy and face-lift refresher course, sponsored by a
southernuniversity medical center and led by ahalf-dozenof America's
most sought-after face-lifters.
Theheads havebeenput inroastingpanswhichareof thedisposable
aluminumvarietyfor thesamereasonchickens areput inroasting
pans: to catchthedrippings. Surgery, evensurgery uponthedead, is a
tidy, orderly affair. Forty foldingutility tables havebeendraped in
lavender plasticcloths, and aroastingpanis centered oneach. Skin
hooks and retractors areset out withthepleasingprecisionof restaurant
cutlery. Thewholethinghas thelook of acatered reception. I mentionto
theyoungwomanwhosejobit was to set up theseminar this morning
that thelavender gives theroomacheery sort of Easter-party feeling. Her
nameis Theresa. Shereplies that lavender was chosenbecauseit's a
soothingcolor.
It surprises meto hear that menand womenwho spend their days
pruningeyelids and vacuumingfat would requireanythingintheway of
soothing, but severed heads canbeupsettingevento professionals.
Especially freshones ("fresh" heremeaningunembalmed). Theforty
heads arefrompeoplewho havedied inthepast few days and, as such,
still look very muchtheway they looked whilethosepeoplewerealive.
(Embalminghardens tissues, makingthestructures less pliableand the
surgery experienceless reflectiveof anactual operation.)
For themoment, youcan't seethefaces. They'vebeendraped withwhite
cloths, pendingthearrival of thesurgeons. Whenyoufirst enter the
room, youseeonly thetops of theheads, whichareshaved downto
stubble. Youcould belookingat rows of old menreclininginbarber
chairs withhot towels ontheir faces. Thesituationonly starts to become
direwhenyoumakeyour way downtherows. Now youseestumps, and
thestumps arenot covered. They arebloody and rough. I was picturing
somethingcleanly sliced, liketheedgeof adeli ham. I look at theheads,
and thenI look at thelavender tablecloths. Horrify me, sootheme,
horrify me.
They arealso very short, thesestumps. If it weremy jobto cut theheads
off bodies, I would leavetheneck and cap thegoresomehow. These
heads appear to havebeenlopped off just below thechin, as thoughthe
cadaver had beenwearingaturtleneck and thedecapitator hadn't wished
to damagethefabric. I find myself wonderingwhosehandiwork this is.
"Theresa?" Sheis distributingdissectionguides to thetables, humming
quietly as sheworks.
"Mm?"
"Who cuts off theheads?"
Theresaanswers that theheads aresawed off intheroomacross thehall,
by awomannamed Yvonne. I wonder out loud whether this particular
aspect of Yvonne's jobbothers her. LikewiseTheresa. It was Theresawho
brought theheads inand set themup ontheir littlestands. I ask her
about this.
"What I do is, I think of themas wax."
Theresais practicingatime-honored copingmethod: objectification. For
thosewho must deal withhumancorpses regularly, it is easier (and, I
suppose, moreaccurate) to think of themas objects, not people. For most
physicians, objectificationis mastered their first year of medical school, in
thegross anatomy lab, or "gross lab," as it is casually and somewhat aptly
known. To help depersonalizethehumanformthat students will be
expected to sink knives into and eviscerate, anatomy labpersonnel often
swathethecadavers ingauzeand encouragestudents to unwrap as they
go, part by part.
Theproblemwithcadavers is that they look so muchlikepeople. It's the
reasonmost of us prefer apork chop to asliceof wholesucklingpig. It's
thereasonwesay "pork" and "beef" instead of "pig" and "cow." Dissection
and surgical instruction, likemeat-eating, requireacarefully maintained
set of illusions and denial. Physiciansand anatomy students must learn
to think of cadavers as wholly unrelated to thepeoplethey oncewere.
"Dissection," writes historianRuthRichardsoninDeath, Dissection, andthe
Destitute, "requires inits practitioners theeffectivesuspensionor
suppressionof many normal physical and emotional responses to the
wilful mutilationof thebody of another humanbeing."
Headsor moreto thepoint, facesareespecially unsettling. At the
University of California, SanFrancisco, inwhosemedical school anatomy
labI would soonspend anafternoon, thehead and hands areoftenleft
wrapped until their dissectioncomes up onthesyllabus. "So it's not so
intense," onestudent would later tell me. "Becausethat's what youseeof
aperson."
Thesurgeons arebeginningto gather inthehallway outsidethelab,
fillingout paperwork and chattingvolubly. I go out to watchthem. Or to
not watchtheheads, I'mnot surewhich. No onepays muchattentionto
me, except for asmall, dark-haired woman, who stands off to theside,
staringat me. Shedoesn't look as if shewants to bemy friend. I decideto
think of her as wax. I talk withthesurgeons, most of whomseemto think
I'mpart of thesetup staff. A manwithashrubbery of whitechest hair in
theV-neck of his surgical scrubs says to me: "Werey'inthereinjectin' 'em
withwater?" A Texas accent makes tarry of his syllables. "Plumpin' 'em
up?" Many of today's heads havebeenaround afew days and have, like
any refrigerated meat, begunto dry out. Injections of saline, heexplains,
areused to freshenthem.
Abruptly, thehard-eyed waxwomanis at my side, demandingto know
who I am. I explainthat thesurgeoninchargeof thesymposiuminvited
meto observe. This is not anentirely truthful renderingof theevents. A
entirely truthful renderingof theevents would employ words suchas
"wheedle.," "plead," and "attempted bribe."
"Does publications know you'rehere? If you'renot cleared throughthe
publications office, you'll haveto leave." Shestrides into her officeand
dials thephone, staringat mewhileshetalks, likesecurity guards inbad
actionmovies just beforeStevenSeagal clubs themonthehead from
behind.
Oneof theseminar organizers joins me. "Is Yvonnegivingyouahard
time?"
Yvonne! My nemesis is noneother thanthecadaver beheader. As it turns
out, sheis also thelabmanager, thepersonresponsiblewhenthings go
wrong, suchas writers faintingand/or gettingsick to their stomachand
thengoinghomeand writingbooks that refer to anatomy labmanagers
as beheaders. Yvonneis off thephonenow. Shehas comeover to outline
her misgivings. Theseminar organizer reassures her. My end of the
conversationtakes placeentirely inmy head and consists of asingle
repeated line. Youcut off heads. Youcut off heads. Youcut off heads.
Meanwhile, I'vemissed theunveilingof thefaces. Thesurgeons are
already at work, leaningkiss-closeover their specimens and glancingup
at video monitors mounted aboveeachwork station. Onthescreenare
thehands of anunseennarrator, demonstratingtheprocedures onahead
of his own. Theshot is anextremeclose-up, makingit impossibleto tell,
without already knowing, what kind of fleshit is. It could beJuliaChild
skinningpoultry beforeastudio audience.
Theseminar begins withareview of facial anatomy. "Elevatetheskinina
subcutaneous planefromlateral to medial," intones thenarrator.
Obligingly, thesurgeons sink scalpels into faces. Thefleshgives no
resistanceand yields no blood.
"Isolatethebrow as askinisland." Thenarrator speaks slowly, inaflat
tone. I'msuretheideais to sound neither excited and delighted at the
prospect of isolatingskinislands, nor overly dismayed. Thenet effect is
that hesounds chemically sedated, whichseems to melikeagood idea.
I walk up and downtherows. Theheads look likerubber Halloween
masks. They also look likehumanheads, but my brainhas no precedent
for humanheads ontables or inroastingpans or anywhereother thanon
top of humanbodies, and so I think it has chosento interpret thesight in
amorecomfortingmanner. Hereweareat therubber maskfactory. Lookat
thenicemenandwomenworkingonthemasks. I used to haveaHalloween
mask of anold toothless manwhoselips fell inuponhis gums. Thereare
several of himhere. Thereis aHunchback of NotreDame, bat-nosed and
withlower teethexposed, and aRoss Perot.
Thesurgeons don't seemqueasy or repulsed, thoughTheresatold me
later that oneof themhad to leavetheroom. "They hateit," shesays. "It"
meaningworkingwithheads. I sensefromthemonly amild discomfort
withtheir task. As I stop at their tables to watch, they turnto mewitha
vaguely irritated, embarrassed look. You'veseenthat look if youmakea
habit of enteringbathrooms without knocking. Thelook says, Pleasego
away.
Thoughthesurgeons clearly do not relishdissectingdead people's heads,
they just as clearly valuetheopportunity to practiceand exploreon
someonewho isn't goingto wakeup and look inthemirror anytime
soon. "Youhaveastructureyoukeep seeing[duringsurgeries], and
you'renot surewhat it is, and you'reafraid to cut it," says onesurgeon. "I
cameherewithfour questions." If heleaves today withanswers, it will
havebeenworththe$500. Thesurgeonpicks his head up and sets it back
down, adjustingits positionlikeaseamstress pausingto shift thecloth
sheis workingon. Hepoints out that theheads aren't cut off out of
ghoulishness. They arecut off so that someoneelsecanmakeuseof the
other pieces: arms, legs, organs. Intheworld of donated cadavers,
nothingis wasted. Beforetheir face-lifts, today's heads got nosejobs in
theMonday rhinoplasty lab.
It's thenosejobs that I trip over. Kindly, dyingsoutherners willed their
bodies for thebetterment of science, only to end up as practiceruns for
nosejobs? Does it makeit okay that thekindly southerners, beingdead
kindly southerners, haveno way of knowingthat this isgoingon? Or
does thedeceit compound thecrime? I spokeabout this later withArt
Dalley, thedirector of theMedical Anatomy Programat Vanderbilt
University inNashvilleand anexpert inthehistory of anatomical gift-
giving. "I think there's asurprisingnumber of donors who really don't
carewhat happens to them," Dalley told me. "To themit's just apractical
means of disposingof abody, apractical means that fortunately has a
ringof altruism."
Thoughit's harder to justify theuseof acadaver for practicingnosejobs
thanit is for practicingcoronary bypasses, it is justifiablenonetheless.
Cosmeticsurgery exists, for better or for worse, and it's important, for the
sakeof thosewho undergo it, that thesurgeons who do it areableto do it
well. Thoughperhaps thereought to beaboxfor peopleto check, or not
check, ontheir body donor form: Okaytousemefor cosmeticpurposes.[1]
I sit downat Station13, withaCanadiansurgeonnamed Marilena
Marignani. Marilenais dark-haired, withlargeeyes and strong
cheekbones. Her head (theoneonthetable) is gaunt, withasimilarly
strongset to thebones. It's anodd way for thetwo women's lives to
intersect; thehead doesn't need aface-lift, and Marilenadoesn't usually
do them. Her practiceis primarily reconstructiveplasticsurgery. Shehas
doneonly two face-lifts beforeand wants to honeher skills before
undertakingaprocedureonafriend. Shewears amask over her noseand
mouth, whichis surprising, becauseasevered head is inno danger of
infection. I ask whether this is morefor her ownprotection, asort of
psychological barrier.
Marilenareplies that shedoesn't haveaproblemwithheads. "For me,
hands arehard." Shelooks up fromwhat she's doing. "Becauseyou're
holdingthis disconnected hand, and it's holdingyouback." Cadavers
occasionally effect asort of accidental humanness that catches the
medical professional off guard. I oncespoketo ananatomy student who
described amoment inthelabwhensherealized thecadaver's armwas
around her waist. It becomes difficult, under circumstances suchas these,
to retainone's clinical remove.
I watchMarilenagingerly probingthewoman's exposed tissue. What she
is doing, basically, is gettingher bearings: learninginadetailed, hands-
onmannerwhat's what and what's whereinthecomplicated layering
of skin, fat, muscle, and fasciathat makes up thehumancheek. While
early face-lifts merely pulled theskinup and stitched it, tightened, into
place, themodernface-lift lifts four individual anatomical layers. This
means all of theselayers must beidentified, surgically separated from
their neighbors, individually repositioned, and sewninto placeall the
whiletakingcarenot to sever vital facial nerves. Withmoreand more
cosmeticprocedures beingdoneendoscopicallyby introducingtiny
instruments throughaseries of minimally invasiveincisionsknowing
one's way around theanatomy is evenmorecritical. "Withtheolder
techniques, they peeled everythingdownand they could seeit all infront
of them," says RonnWade, director of theAnatomical Services Division
of theUniversity of Maryland School of Medicine. "Now whenyougo in
withacameraand you'reright ontop of something, it's harder to keep
yourself oriented."
Marilena's instruments arepokingaround theedges of aglisteningyolk-
colored blob. Theblobis knownamongplasticsurgeons as themalar fat
pad. "Malar" means relatingto thecheek. Themalar fat pad is thecushion
of youthful paddingthat sits highonyour cheekbone, thething
grandmothers pinch. Over theyears, gravity coaxes thefat fromits roost,
and it commences adownward slide, pilingup at thefirst anatomical
roadblock it reaches: thenasolabial folds (theanatomical parentheses that
runfromtheedges of amiddle-aged nosedownto thecorners of the
mouth). Theresult is that thecheeks start to look bony and sunken, and
bulgy parentheses of fat reinforcethenasolabial lines. Duringface-lifts,
surgeons put themalar fat pad back up whereit started out.
"This is great," says Marilena. "Beautiful. Just likereal, but no bleeding.
Youcanreally seewhat you'redoing."
Thoughsurgeons inall disciplines benefit fromthechanceto try out new
techniques and new equipment oncadavericspecimens, freshparts for
surgical practicearehard to comeby. WhenI telephoned RonnWadein
his officeinBaltimore, heexplained that theway most willed body
programs areset up, anatomy labs havefirst priority whenacadaver
comes in. And evenwhenthere's asurplus, theremay beno
infrastructureinplaceto get thebodies fromtheanatomy department of
themedical school over to thehospitals wherethesurgeons areand no
placeat thehospital for asurgical practicelab. At Marilena's hospital,
surgeons typically get body parts only whenthere's beenanamputation.
Giventhefrequency of humanhead amputations, anopportunity like
today's would bevirtually nonexistent outsideof aseminar.
Wadehas beenworkingto changethesystem. Heis of theopinionand
it's hard to disagreewithhimthat livesurgery is theworst placefor a
surgeonto bepracticinganew skill. So hegot together withtheheads
sorry, chiefsof surgery at Baltimore'shospitals and worked out a
system. "Whenagroup of surgeons want to get together and try out, say,
somenew endoscopictechnique, they call meand I set it up." Wade
charges anominal feefor theuseof thelab, plus asmall per-cadaver fee.
Two-thirds of thebodies Wadetakes innow arebeingused for surgical
practice.
I was surprised to learnthat evenwhensurgeons areinresidencies, they
aren't typically givenanopportunity to practiceoperations ondonated
cadavers. Students learnsurgery theway they havealways learned: by
watchingexperienced surgeons at work. At teachinghospitals affiliated
withmedical schools, patients who undergo surgery typically havean
audienceof interns. After watchinganoperationafew times, theinternis
invited to step inand try his or her hand, first onsimplemaneuvers such
as closures and retractions, and gradually at morecomplicated steps. "It's
basically on-the-jobtraining," says Wade. "It's anapprenticeship."
It has beenthis way sincetheearly days of surgery, theteachingof the
craft takingplacelargely intheoperatingroom. Only inthepast century,
however, has thepatient routinely stood to gainfromtheexperience.
Nineteenth-century operating"theaters" had moreto do withmedical
instructionthanwithsavingpatients' lives. If youcould, youstayed out
of themat all cost.
For onething, youwerebeingoperated onwithout anesthesia. (Thefirst
operations under ether didn't takeplaceuntil 1846.) Surgical patients in
thelate1700s and early1800s could feel every cut, stitch, and probing
finger. They wereoftenblindfoldedthis may havebeenoptional, not
unlikethefiringsquad hoodand invariably bound to theoperating
tableto keep themfromwrithingand flinchingor, quitepossibly, leaping
fromthetableand fleeinginto thestreet. (Perhaps owingto thepresence
of anaudience, patients underwent surgery withmost of their clothes
on.)
Theearly surgeons weren't thehypereducated cowboy-saviors they are
today. Surgery was anew field, withmuchto belearned and near-
constant blunders. For centuries, surgeons had shared rank withbarbers,
doinglittlebeyond amputations and toothpullings, whilephysicians,
withtheir potions and concoctions, treated everythingelse. (Interestingly,
it was proctology that helped pavetheway for surgery's acceptanceas a
respectablebranchof medicine. In1687, thekingof Francewas surgically
relieved of apainful and persistent anal fistulaand was apparently quite
grateful for, and vocal about, his relief.)
Nepotism, rather thanskill, secured apost at early-nineteenth-century
teachinghospitals. TheDecember 20, 1828, issueof TheLancet contains
excerpts fromoneof theearliest surgical malpracticetrials, which
centered ontheincompetency of oneBransby Cooper, nephew of the
famed anatomist Sir Astley Cooper. Beforeanaudienceof sometwo
hundred colleagues, students, and onlookers, theyoungCooper proved
beyond questionthat his presenceintheoperatingtheater owed
everythingto his uncleandnothingto his talents. Theoperationwas a
simplebladder stoneremoval (lithotomy) at London's Guy's Hospital;
thepatient, StephenPollard, was ahardy working-class man. While
lithotomies werenormally completed inamatter of minutes, Pollard was
onthetablefor anhour, withhis knees at his neck and his hands bound
to his feet whiletheclueless medictried invainto locatethestone. "A
blunt gorget was also introduced, and thescoop, and several pair of
forceps," recalled onewitness. Another described the"horriblesquash,
squashof theforceps intheperineum." Whenasuccessionof tools failed
to producethestone, Cooper "introduced his finger withsomeforce" It
was around this point that Pollard's endurance[2] randry. "Oh! Let it go!"
heis quoted as saying. "Pray let it keep in!" Cooper persisted, cursingthe
man's deep perineum(infact, anautopsy showed it to beaquite
normally proportioned perineum). After diggingwithhis finger for some
ungodly amount of time, hegot up fromhis seat and "measured fingers
withthoseof other gentlemen, to seeif any of themhad alonger finger."
Eventually hewent back to his toolkit and, withforceps, conquered the
recalcitrant rockarelatively small one, "not larger thanacommon
Windsor bean"brandishingit abovehis head likeanAcademy Award
winner. Thequivering, exhausted mass that was StephenPollard was
wheeled to abed, wherehedied of infectionand God knows what else
twenty-ninehours later.
Bad enoughthat someham-handed fop inawaistcoat and bowtiewas up
to his wrists inyour urinary tract, but ontop of that youhad an
audiencenot just theyoungpunters fromthemedical school but,
judgingfromadescriptionof another lithotomy at Guy's Hospital inan
1829Lancet, half thecity: "Surgeons and surgeons' friends French
visitors, and interlopers filled thespacearound thetable Therewas
soonageneral outcry throughout thegallery and upper rows'hat's off,'
'downheads,' was loudly vociferated fromdifferent parts of the
theatre."
Thecabaret atmosphereof early medical instructionbegancenturies
before, inthestanding-room-only dissectinghalls of therenowned Italian
medical academies of Paduaand Bologna. Accordingto C. D. O'Malley's
biography of thegreat Renaissanceanatomist Andreas Vesalius, one
enthusiasticspectator at acrowded Vesalius dissection, bent onabetter
view, leaned too far out and tumbled fromhis benchto thedissecting
platformbelow. "Becauseof his accidental fall theunfortunateMaster
Carlo is unableto attend and is not very well," read thenoteproffered at
thenext lecture. Master Carlo, onecanbesure, did not seek treatment at
theplacehewent for lectures.
Without exception, theonly peoplewho checked themselves inat
teachinghospitals werethosetoo poor to pay for privatesurgery. In
returnfor anoperationthat was as likely to kill themas makethem
betterbladder stoneremoval had amortality rateof 50percentthe
poor basically donated themselves as livingpracticematerial. Not only
werethesurgeons unskilled, but many of theoperations beingdonewere
purely experimentalno onereally expected themto help. Wrote
historianRuthRichardsoninDeath, Dissection, andtheDestitute, "The
benefit [to thepatient] was oftenincidental to theexperiment."
Withtheadvent of anesthesia, patients wereat least unconscious while
theyoungresident tried his hand at anew procedure. But they probably
didn't givetheir permissionfor atraineeto takethehelm. Intheheady
days beforeconsent forms and drop-of-a-hat lawsuits, patients didn't
realizewhat they might beinfor if they underwent surgery at ateaching
hospital, and doctors took advantageof this fact. Whileapatient was
under, asurgeonmight inviteastudent to practiceanappendectomy.
Never mind that thepatient didn't haveappendicitis. Oneof themore
commontransgressions was thegratuitous pelvicexam. A budding
M.D.'s first Pap smearthesubject of significant anxiety and dread-
was oftenadministered to anunconscious femalesurgical patient.
(Nowadays, enlightened medical schools will hirea"pelviceducator," a
sort of professional vaginawho allows thestudents to practiceonher and
offers personalized feedback and is, inmy book anyway, anomineefor
sainthood.)
Gratuitous medical procedures happenfar less thanthey used to, owing
to thepublic's growingawareness. "Patients aresavvier thesedays, and
theclimatehas changed agreat deal," HughPatterson, who runs the
willed body programat theUniversity of California, SanFrancisco,
Medical School, told me. "Evenat ateachinghospital, patients request
that residents not do thesurgery. They want to beassured theattending
does theprocedure. It makes trainingvery difficult."
Pattersonwould liketo seespecialized cadaver anatomy labs added to
third- and fourth-year programsinstead of teachinganatomy only in
thefirst year, "as onebigbolus." Already, heand his colleagues have
added afocused dissection, similar to thefacial anatomy labI'm
observingtoday, to thecurriculaof surgical subspecialties. They'vealso
set up aseries of sessions at themedical school morgueto teach
emergency roomprocedures to third-year students. Beforeacadaver is
embalmed and delivered to theanatomy lab, it may pass anafternoon
gettingtracheal intubations and catheterizations. (Someschools use
anesthetized dogs for this purpose.) Giventheurgency and difficulty of
certainER procedures, it makes good senseto practicethemfirst onthe
dead. Inthepast, this has beendoneinaless formal manner, onfreshly
dead hospital patients, without consentapracticewhosepropriety is
intermittently debated inhushed meetings of theAmericanMedical
Association. They should probably just ask for permission: Accordingto
oneNewEnglandJournal of Medicinestudy onthesubject, 73percent of
parents of newly dead children, whenasked, gaveconsent to usetheir
child's body for teachingintubationskills.
I ask Marilenaif sheplans to donateher remains. I havealways assumed
that asenseof reciprocity prompts doctors to donaterepayment for the
generosity of thepeoplethey dissected inmedical school. Marilena, for
one, isn't goingto. Shecites alack of respect. It surprises meto hear her
say this. As far as I cantell, theheads arebeingtreated withrespect. I
hear no jokingor laughter or callous comments. If therecanbea
respectful way to "deglove" aface, if looseningtheskinof someone's
forehead and flippingit back over his or her eyescanbearespectful act,
thenI think thesepeoplearemanagingit. It's strictly business.
It turns out that what Marilenaobjected to was acoupleof thesurgeons'
takingphotographs of their cadaver heads. Whenyoutakeaphotograph
of apatient for amedical journal, shepoints out, youhavethepatient
signarelease. Thedead can't refuseto signreleases, but that doesn't
meanthey wouldn't want to. This is why cadavers inphotographs in
pathology and forensics journals haveblack bars over their eyes, like
womenontheDos and Don'ts pages of Glamour. Youhaveto assumethat
peopledon't want to bephotographed dead and dismembered, any more
thanthey want to bephotographed naked intheshower or asleep ona
planewiththeir mouthhangingopen.
Most doctors aren't worried about alack of respect fromother doctors.
Most of theones I'vespokento would worry, if anything, about alack of
respect fromstudents inthefirst-year gross anatomy labmy next stop.
Theseminar is nearly over. Thevideo monitors areblank and the
surgeons arecleaningup and filingout into thehallway. Marilena
replaces thewhiteclothonher cadaver's face; about half thesurgeons do
this. Sheis conscientiously respectful. WhenI asked her why theeyes of
thedead womanhad no pupils, shedid not answer, but reached up and
closed theeyelids. As sheslides back her chair, shelooks downat the
benapkined formand says, "May sherest inpeace." I hear it as "pieces,"
but that's just me.
Footnotes:
[1] I'mabeliever inorganand tissue(bone, cartilage, skin) donation, but
was startled to learnthat donated skinthat isn't used for, say, grafting
onto burnvictims may beprocessed and used cosmetically to plump up
wrinkles and aggrandizepenises. WhileI haveno preconceived notions
of thehereafter, I stand firminmy convictionthat it should not takethe
formof someoneelse's underpants.
[2] Thehumanbeingof centuries past was clearly inanother league,
insofar as painendurancewent. Thefarther back yougo, it seems, the
morewecould take. Inmedieval England, thepatient wasn't eventied
down, but sat obligingly uponacushionat thefoot of thedoctor's chair,
presentinghis ailingpart for treatment. InanillustrationinTheMedieval
Surgery, wefind awell-coiffed manabout to receivetreatment for a
troublesomefacial fistula. Thepatient is showncalmly, almost fondly,
liftinghis afflicted facetoward thesurgeon. Meanwhile, thecaptionis
going: "Thepatient is instructed to avert his eyes and theroots of the
fistulaarethenseared by takinganironor bronzetubethroughwhichis
passed ared hot iron." Thecaptionwriter adds, "Thedoctor would
appear to beleft-handed inthis particular picture," as if perhaps tryingto
distract thereader fromthehorrors just read, apalliativetechniquefully
as effectiveas askingamanwithared-hot poker closinginonhis faceto
"avert his eyes."
2
Crimesof Anatomy
Bodysnatchingandother sordidtalesfromthedawnof human
dissection
Enoughyears havepassed sincetheuseof Pachelbel's Canoninafabric
softener commercial that themusicagainsounds pureand sweetly sad to
me. It's agood choicefor amemorial service, aclassicand effective
choice, for themenand womengathered (heretoday) havefallensilent
and somber withthemusic's start.
Noticeably absent amid theflowers and candles is thecasket displaying
thedeceased. This would havebeenlogistically challenging, as all
twenty-somecorpses havebeenreduced to neatly sawed segments
hemisections of pelvis and bisected heads, thesecret turnings of their
sinus cavities revealed likeAnt Farmtunnels. This is amemorial service
for theunnamed cadavers of theUniversity of California, SanFrancisco,
Medical School Class of 2004gross anatomy lab. Anopen-casket
ceremony would not havebeenespecially horrifyingfor theguests here
today, for they havenot only seenthedeceased intheir many and
various pieces, but havehandled themand areinfact thereasonthey
havebeendismembered. They aretheanatomy labstudents.
This is no tokenceremony. It is asincereand voluntarily attended event,
lastingnearly threehours and featuringthirteenstudent tributes,
includinganacapellarenditionof GreenDay's "Timeof Your Life," the
readingof anuncharacteristically downbeat BeatrixPotter taleabout a
dyingbadger, and afolk ballad about awomannamed Daisy who is
reincarnated as amedical student whosegross anatomy cadaver turns
out to behimself inaformer life, i.e., Daisy. Oneyoungwoman's tribute
describes unwrappingher cadaver's hands and beingbrought up short
by therealizationthat thenails werepainted pink. "Thepictures inthe
anatomy atlas did not show nail polish," shewrote. "Did youchoosethe
color? Did youthink that I would seeit? I wanted to tell youabout
theinsideof your hands I want youto know youarealways there
whenI seepatients. WhenI palpateanabdomen, yours aretheorgans I
imagine. WhenI listento aheart, I recall holdingyour heart." It is oneof
themost touchingpieces of writingI'veever heard. Others must feel the
same; thereisn't ananhydrous lacrimal gland inthehouse.
Medical schools havegoneout of their way inthepast decadeto foster a
respectful attitudetoward gross anatomy labcadavers. UCSF is oneof
many medical schools that hold memorial services for willed bodies.
Somealso invitethecadavers' families to attend. At UCSF, gross anatomy
students must attend apre-courseworkshop hosted by students fromthe
prior year, who talk about what it was liketo work withthedead and
how it madethemfeel. Therespect and gratitudemessageis liberally
imparted. Fromwhat I'veheard, it would bequitedifficult, ingood
conscience, to attend oneof theseworkshops and thenproceed to stick a
cigaretteinyour cadaver's mouthor jump ropewithhis intestines.
HughPatterson, anatomy professor and director of theuniversity's
willed body program, invited meto spend anafternoonat thegross
anatomy lab, and I cantell youhereand now that either thestudents
wereexceptionally well rehearsed for my visit or theprogramis working.
Withno promptingonmy part, thestudents spokeof gratitudeand
preservingdignity, of havinggrownattached to their cadavers, of feeling
bad about what they had to do to them. "I remember oneof my
teammates was just hackinghimapart, diggingsomethingout," onegirl
told me, "and I realized I was pattinghis arm, going, 'It's okay, it's okay.'"
I asked astudent named Matthew whether hewould miss his cadaver
whenthecourseended, and hereplied that it was actually sad when"just
part of himleft." (Halfway throughthecourse, thelegs areremoved and
incinerated to reducethestudents' exposureto thechemical
preservatives.)
Many of thestudents gavetheir cadavers names. "Not likeBeef Jerky.
Real names," said onestudent. Heintroduced meto Benthecadaver,
who, despitehavingby thenbeenreduced to ahead, lungs, and arms,
retained anair of purposeand dignity. Whenastudent moved Ben's arm,
it was picked up, not grabbed, and set downgently, as if Benwere
merely sleeping. Matthew went so far as to writeto thewilled body
programofficeaskingfor biographical informationabout his cadaver. "I
wanted to personalizeit," hetold me.
No onemadejokes theafternoonI was there, or anyway not at the
corpses' expense. Onewomanconfessed that her group had passed
comment onthe"extremely largegenitalia" of their cadaver. (What she
perhaps didn't realizeis that theembalmingfluid pumped into theveins
expands thebody's erectiletissues, withtheresult that maleanatomy lab
cadavers may bemarkedly better endowed indeaththanthey werein
life.) Eventhen, reverence, not mockery, colored theremark.
As oneformer anatomy instructor said to me, "No one's takingheads
homeinbuckets anymore."
To understand thecautious respect for thedead that pervades the
modernanatomy lab, it helps to understand theextremelack of it that
pervades thefield's history. Few sciences areas rooted inshame, infamy,
and bad PR as humananatomy.
Thetroubles beganinAlexandrianEgypt, circa300B.C. KingPtolemy I
was thefirst leader to deemit a-okay for medical types to cut openthe
dead for thepurposeof figuringout how bodies work. Inpart this had to
do withEgypt's longtraditionof mummification. Bodies arecut open
and organs removed duringthemummificationprocess, so thesewere
things thegovernment and thepopulacewerecomfortablewith. It also
had to do withPtolemy's extracurricular fascinationwithdissection. Not
only did thekingissuearoyal decreeencouragingphysicians to dissect
executed criminals, but, cometheday, hewas over at theanatomy room
withhis knives and smock, slittingand probingalongsidethepros.
Trouble's namewas Herophilus. Dubbed theFather of Anatomy, hewas
thefirst physicianto dissect humanbodies. WhileHerophilus was indeed
adedicated and tireless manof science, heseems tohavelost his bearings
somewherealongtheway. Enthusiasmgot thebetter of compassionand
commonsense, and themantook todissectinglivecriminals. Accordingto
oneof his accusers, Tertullian, Herophilus vivisected sixhundred
prisoners. To befair, no eyewitness account or papyrus diary entries
survive, and onewonders whether professional jealousy played arole.
After all, no onewas callingTertulliantheFather of Anatomy.
Thetraditionof usingexecuted criminals for dissections persisted and hit
its strideineighteenth- and nineteenth-century Britain, whenprivate
anatomy schools for medical students beganto flourishinthecities of
England and Scotland. Whilethenumber of schools grew, thenumber of
cadavers stayed roughly thesame, and theanatomists faced achronic
shortageof material. Back thenno onedonated his body to science. The
churchgoingmasses believed inaliteral, corporal risingfromthegrave,
and dissectionwas thought of as pretty muchspoilingyour chances of
resurrection: Who's goingto openthegates of heavento someslobwith
his entrails all hangingout and drippingonthecarpeting? Fromthe
sixteenthcentury up until thepassageof theAnatomy Act, in1836, the
only cadavers legally availablefor dissectioninBritainwerethoseof
executed murderers.
For this reason, anatomists cameto occupy thesameterrain, inthe
public's mind, as executioners. Worse, even, for dissectionwas thought
of, literally, as apunishment worsethandeath. Indeed, thatnot the
support and assistanceof anatomistswas theauthorities' mainintent in
makingthebodies availablefor dissection. Withso many relatively
minor offenses punishableby death, thelegal bodies felt theneed to tack
onadded horrors as deterrents against weightier crimes. If youstolea
pig, youwerehung. If youkilled aman, youwerehungandthendissected.
(Inthefreshly minted United States of America, thepunishable-by-
dissectioncategory was extended to includeduelists, thedeathsentence
clearly not posingmuchof adeterrent to thetypeof fellow who agrees to
settlehis differences by theduelingpistol.)
Doublesentencingwasn't anew idea, but rather thelatest variationon
thetheme. Beforethat, amurderer might behungand thendrawnand
quartered, whereinhorses weretied to his limbs and spurred off infour
directions, theresultant "quarters" beingimpaled onspikes and publicly
displayed, as acolorful reminder to thecitizenry of theill-advisedness of
crime. Dissectionas asentencingoptionfor murderers was mandated, in
1752Britain, as analternativeto postmortemgibbeting. Gibbeting
thoughit hits theear likeaword for happy playground chatter or
perhaps, at worst, thecleaningof small gamebirdsis infact aghastly
verb. To gibbet is to dip acorpseintar and suspend it inaflat ironcage
(thegibbet) inplainview of townsfolk whileit rots and gets pecked apart
by crows. A stroll throughthesquaremust havebeenawholedifferent
plateof tamales back then.
Inattemptingto copewiththeshortageof cadavers legally availablefor
dissection, instructors at Britishand early Americananatomy schools
backed themselves into someunsavory corners. They becameknownas
thekind of guys to whomyoucould takeyour son's amputated legand
sell it for beer money (37cents, to beexact; it happened inRochester,
New York, in1831). But students weren't goingto pay tuitionto learn
armand leganatomy; theschools had to find wholecadavers or risk
losingtheir students to theanatomy schools of Paris, wherethe
unclaimed corpses of thepoor who died at city hospitals could beused
for dissection.
Extrememeasures ensued. It was not unheard of for ananatomist to tote
freshly deceased family members over to thedissectingchamber for a
morningbeforedroppingthemoff at thechurchyard. Seventeenth-
century surgeon-anatomist WilliamHarvey, famous for discoveringthe
humancirculatory system, also deserves famefor beingoneof few
medical meninhistory so dedicated to his callingthat hecould dissect
his ownfather and sister.
Harvey did what hedid becausethealternativesstealingthecorpses of
someoneelse's loved ones or givingup his researchwereunacceptable
to him. Modern-day medical students livingunder Talibanrulefaced a
similar dilemma, and, onoccasion, havemadesimilar choices. Inastrict
interpretationof Koranicedicts regardingthedignity of thehumanbody,
Talibanclerics forbid medical instructors to dissect cadavers or use
skeletons eventhoseof non-Muslims, apracticeother Islamiccountries
oftenallowto teachanatomy. InJanuary 2002, NewYorkTimesreporter
NorimitsuOnishi interviewed astudent at Kandahar Medical College
who had madetheanguishingdecisionto digup thebones of his beloved
grandmother and sharethemwithhis classmates. Another student
unearthed theremains of his former neighbor. "Yes, hewas agood man,"
thestudent told Onishi. "Naturally I felt bad about takinghis skeleton.
I thought that if twenty peoplecould benefit fromit, it would begood."
This sort of reasoned, pained sensitivity was rareintheheyday of British
anatomy schools. Thefar morecommontacticwas to sneak into a
graveyard and digup someoneelse's relativeto study. Theact became
knownas body snatching. It was anew crime, distinct fromgrave-
robbing, whichinvolved thepilferingof jewels and heirlooms buried in
tombs and crypts of thewell-to-do. Beingcaught inpossessionof a
corpse's cufflinks was acrime, but beingcaught withthecorpseitself
carried no penalty. Beforeanatomy schools caught on, therewereno laws
onthebooks regardingthemisappropriationof freshly dead humans.
And why would therebe? Up until that point, therehad beenlittle
reason, short of necrophilia[1], to undertakesuchathing.
Someanatomy instructors mined thetimeless affinity of university
students for late-night pranks by encouragingtheir enrollees to raid
graveyards and providebodies for theclass. At certainScottishschools,
inthe1700s, thearrangement was moreformal: Tuition, writes Ruth
Richardson, could bepaid incorpses rather thancash.
Other instructors took thedismal deed uponthemselves. Thesewerenot
low-lifequacks. They wererespectablemembers of their profession.
Colonial physicianThomas Sewell, who went onto becomethepersonal
physicianto threeU.S. presidents and to found what is now George
WashingtonUniversity Medical School, was convicted in1818of digging
up thecorpseof ayoungIpswich, Massachusetts, womanfor the
purposes of dissection.
And thenthereweretheanatomists who paid someoneelseto go
digging. By 1828, thedemands of London's anatomy schools weresuch
that tenfull-timebody snatchers and two hundred or so part-timers were
kept busy throughout thedissecting"season." (Anatomy courses were
held only betweenOctober and May, to avoid thestenchand swiftness of
summertimedecomposition.) Accordingto aHouseof Commons
testimony fromthat year, onegangof sixor sevenresurrectionists, as
they wereoftencalled, dugup 312bodies. Thepay worked out to about
$1,000ayearsomefiveto tentimes theearnings of theaverage
unskilled laborerwithsummers off.
Thejobwas immoral, and ugly to besure, but probably less unpleasant
thanit sounds. Theanatomists wanted freshly dead bodies, so thesmell
wasn't really aproblem. A body snatcher didn't haveto digup theentire
grave, but rather just thetop end of it. A crowbar would thenbeslipped
under thecoffinlid and wrenched upward, snappingoff thetop foot or
so. Thecorpsewas fished out witharopearound theneck or under the
arms, and thedirt, whichhad beenpiled onatarp, would beslid back in.
Thewholeaffair took less thananhour.
Many of theresurrectionists had held posts as gravediggers or assistants
inanatomy labs, wherethey'd comeinto contact withthegangs and their
doings. Drawnto thepromiseof higher pay and less confininghours,
they abandoned legitimateposts to takeup theshovel and sack. A few
diary entriestranscribed fromtheanonymously writtenDiaryof a
Resurrectionistyield someinsight into thesort of peoplewe'retalking
about here:
Tuesday 3rd (November 1811). Went to look out
and brought the Shovils from Bartholow,
Butler and me came home intoxsicated.
Tuesday 10th. Intoxsicated all day: at night
went out & got 5 Bunhill Row. Jack all most
buried.
Friday 27th. Went to Harps, got 1 large and
took it to Jack's house, Jack, Bill, and Tom
not with us, Geting drunk.
It is temptingto believethat theauthor's impersonal references to the
corpses beliesomesenseof discomfort withhis activities. Hedoes not
dwell upontheir looks or museabout their sorry fate. Hecannot bring
himself to refer to thedead as anythingother thanasizeor agender.
Only occasionally do thebodies merit anoun. (Most often"thing," as in
"Thingbad," meaning"body decomposed.") But morelikely it was simply
theman's disinclinationto sit downand writethat accounts for the
shorthand. Later entries show hecouldn't evenbebothered so spell out
"canines," whichappears as "Cns." (Whena"thingbad," the"Cns" and
other teethwerepulled and sold to dentists, for makingdentures[2], so as
to keep theundertakingfrombeingacompleteloss.)
Body snatchers werecommonthugs; their motive, simplegreed. But
what of theanatomists? Who weretheseupstandingmembers of society
who could commissionthetheft and semi-publicmutilationof someone's
dead grandmother? Thebest-knownof theLondonsurgeon-anatomists
was Sir Astley Cooper. Inpublic, Cooper denounced theresurrectionists,
yet henot only sought out and retained their services, but encouraged
thoseinhis employ to takeup thejob. Thingbad.
Cooper was anoutspokendefender of humandissection. "Hemust
manglethelivingif hehas not operated onthedead" was his famous
line. Whilehis point is well takenand themedical schools' plight was a
difficult one, alittleconsciencewould haveserved. Cooper was thetype
of manwho not only evinced no compunctionabout cuttingup strangers'
family members but happily sliced into his ownformer patients. Hekept
intouchwiththefamily doctors of thosehehad operated onand, upon
hearingof their passing, commissioned his resurrectionists to unearth
themso that hemight havealook at how his handiwork had held up. He
paid for theretrieval of bodies of colleagues' patients knownto have
interestingailments or anatomical peculiarities. Hewas amaninwhoma
healthy passionfor biology seemed to havemetastasized into asort of
macabreeccentricity. InThingsfor theSurgeon, anaccount of body
snatchingby Hubert Cole, Sir Astley is said to havepainted thenames of
colleagues onto pieces of boneand forced labdogs to swallow them, so
that whenthebonewas extracted duringthedog's dissection, the
colleague's namewould appear inintaglio, thebonearound theletters
havingbeeneatenaway by thedog's gastricacids. Theitems were
handed out as humorous gifts. Coledoesn't mentionthecolleagues'
reactions to theone-of-a-kind name-plates, but I would hazard aguess
that themenmadeaneffort to enjoy thejokeand displayed theitems
prominently, at least whenSir Astley camecalling. For Sir Astley wasn't
thesort of fellow whoseill will youwanted to takewithyouto your
grave. As Sir Astley himself put it, "I canget anyone."
Liketheresurrectionists, theanatomists weremenwho had clearly been
successful inobjectifying, intheir ownminds at least, thedead human
body. Not only did they view dissectionand thestudy of anatomy as
justificationfor unapproved disinterment, they saw no reasonto treat the
unearthed dead as entities worthy of respect. It didn't bother themthat
thecorpses would arriveat their doors, to quoteRuthRichardson,
"compressed into boxes, packed insawdust, trussed up insacks, roped
up likehams" So similar intheir treatment werethedead to ordinary
items of commercethat every now and thenboxes would bemixed up in
transit. James Moores Ball, author of TheSack-'Em-UpMen, tells thetale
of theflummoxed anatomist who opened acratedelivered to his lab
expectingacadaver but found instead "avery fineham, alargecheese, a
basket of eggs, and ahugeball of yarn." Onecanonly imaginethe
surpriseand very special disappointment of theparty expectingvery fine
ham, cheese, eggs, or ahugeball of yarn, who found instead awell-
packed but quitedead Englishman.
It wasn't so muchtheactual dissectingthat smacked of disrespect. It was
thewholestreet-theater-cum-abattoir air of theproceedings. Engravings
by Thomas Rowlandsonand WilliamHogarthof eighteenth- and early-
nineteenth-century dissectingrooms show cadavers' intestines hanging
likeparadestreamers off thesides of tables, skulls bobbinginboiling
pots, organs strewnonthefloor beingeatenby dogs. Inthebackground,
crowds of mengawk and leer. Whiletheartists wereclearly
editorializinguponthepracticeof dissection, writtensources suggest the
artworks werenot far removed fromthetruth. Hereis thecomposer
Hector Berlioz, inan1822entry inhisMemoirs, sheddingconsiderable
light onhis decisionto pursuemusicrather thanmedicine:
Roberttook me for the first time to the
dissecting room. At the sight of that
terrible charnel-housefragments of limbs, the
grinning heads and gaping skulls, the bloody
quagmire underfoot and the atrocious smell it
gave off, the swarms of sparrows wrangling
over scraps of lung, the rats in their corner
gnawing the bleeding vertebraesuch a feeling
of revulsion possessed me that I leapt through
the window of the dissecting room and fled for
home as though Death and all his hideous train
were at my heels.
And I would wager afinehamand ahugeball of yarnthat no anatomist
of that eraever held amemorial servicefor theleftover pieces. Cadaver
remainders wereburied not out of respect but for lack of other options.
Theburials werehastily done, always at night and usually out behind the
building.
To avoid theproblematicodors that tend to accompany ashallow burial,
anatomists cameup withsomecreativesolutions to thefleshdisposal
problem. A persistent rumor had themincahoots withthekeepers of
London's wild animal menageries. Others weresaid to keep vultures on
hand for thetask, thoughif Berlioz is to bebelieved, thesparrows of the
day werewell up to thetask. Richardsoncameacross areferenceto
anatomists cookingdownhumanbones and fat into "asubstancelike
Spermaceti," whichthey used to makecandles and soap. Whether these
wereused intheanatomists' homes or givenaway as gifts was not noted,
but betweentheseand thegastric-juice-etched nameplates, it's safeto say
youreally didn't want your nameonananatomist's Christmas gift list.
And so it went. For nearly acentury, theshortageof legally dissectable
bodies pitted theanatomist against theprivatecitizen. By and large, it
was thepoor who had most to lose. For over time, entrepreneurs cameup
withanarsenal of antiresurrectionist products and services, affordable
only by theupper class. Ironcages called mortsafes could beset in
concreteabovethegraveor underground, around thecoffin. Churches in
Scotland built graveyard "dead houses," locked buildings whereabody
could beleft to decomposeuntil its structures and organs had
disintegrated to thepoint wherethey wereof no useto anatomists. You
could buy patented spring-closurecoffins, coffins outfitted withcast-iron
corpsestraps, doubleand eventriplecoffins. Appropriately, the
anatomists wereamongtheundertakers' best customers. Richardson
relates that Sir Astley Cooper not only went for thetriplecoffinoption
but had thewholeabsurd Chinese-boxaffair housed inahulkingstone
sarcophagus.
It was anEdinburghanatomist named Robert Knoxwho instigated
anatomy's fatal PR blunder: theimplicit sanctioningof murder for
medicine. In1828, oneof Knox's assistants answered thedoor to find a
pair of strangers inthecourtyard withacadaver at their feet. This was
business as usual for anatomistsof theday, and so Knoxinvited themen
in. Perhaps hemadethemacup of tea, who knows. Knoxwas, like
Astley, amanof highsocial bearing. Althoughthemen, WilliamBurke
and WilliamHare, werestrangers, hecheerfully bought thebody and
accepted their story that thecadaver's relatives had madethebody
availablefor salethoughthis was, giventhepublic's abhorrenceof
dissection, anunlikely scenario.
Thebody, it turns out, had beenalodger at aboardinghouserunby Hare
and his wife, inanEdinburghslumcalled Tanner's Close. Themandied
inoneof Hare's beds, and, beingdead, was unableto comeup withthe
money heowed for thenights he'd stayed. Harewasn't oneto forgivea
debt, so hecameup withwhat hethought to beafair solution: Heand
Burkewould haul thebody to oneof thoseanatomists they'd heard about
over at Surgeons' Square. Therethey would sell it, kindly givingthe
lodger theopportunity, indeath, to pay off what he'd neglected to inlife.
WhenBurkeand Harefound out howmuchmoney could bemade
sellingcorpses, they set about creatingsomeof their own. Several weeks
later, adown-and-out alcoholictook ill withfever whilestayingat Hare's
flophouse. Figuringthemanto bewell onhis way to cadaverdom
anyway, themendecided to speed things along. Harepressed apillow to
theman's facewhileBurkelaid his considerablebody weight ontop of
him. Knoxasked no questions and encouraged themento comeback
soon. And they did, somefifteentimes. Thepair wereeither tooignorant
to realizethat thesamemoney could bemadediggingup graves of the
already dead or too lazy to undertakeit.
A series of modern-day Burke-and-Hare-typekillings took placebarely
tenyears ago, inBarranquilla, Colombia. Thecasecentered onagarbage
scavenger named Oscar Rafael Hernandez, who inMarch1992survived
anattempt to murder himand sell his corpseto thelocal medical school
as ananatomy labspecimen.[3] Likemost of Colombia, Barranquilla
lacked anorganized recyclingprogram, and hundreds of thecity's
destituteforgealivingpickingthroughgarbagedumps for recyclables to
sell. So scorned arethesepeoplethat theyalongwithother social
outcasts suchas prostitutes and street urchinsarereferred to as
"disposables" and haveoftenbeenmurdered by right-wing"social
cleansing" squads. As thestory goes, guards fromUniversidad Librehad
asked Hernandez if hewanted to cometo thecampus to collect some
garbage, and thenbludgeoned himover thehead whenhearrived. A Los
AngelesTimesaccount of thecasehas Hernandez awakeninginavat of
formaldehydealongsidethirty corpses, acolorful if questionabledetail
omitted fromother descriptions of thecase. Either way, Hernandez came
to and escaped to tell his tale.
Activist JuanPablo Ordoez investigated thecaseand claims that
Hernandez was oneof at least fourteenBarranquillaindigents murdered
for medicineeventhoughanorganized willed body programexisted.
Accordingto Ordoez's report, thenational policehad beenunloading
bodies gleaned fromtheir own, in-house"social cleansing" activities and
collecting$150per corpsefromtheuniversity coffers. Theschool's
security staff got wind of thesetup and decided to get inontheaction. At
thetimetheinvestigationbegan, somefifty preserved bodies and body
parts of questionableoriginwerefound intheanatomy amphitheater. To
date, no onefromtheuniversity or thepolicehas beenarrested.
For his part, WilliamBurkewas eventually brought to justice. A crowd of
morethan25,000watched himhang. Harewas granted immunity, much
to thedisgust of thegallows crowd, who chanted "BurkeHare!"
meaning"Smother Hare," "burke" havingmadeits way into thepopular
vernacular as asynonymfor "smother." Hareprobably did as much
smotheringas Burke, but "She's beenhared!" lacks thepleasing
Machiavellianfricatives of "She's beenburked!" and thetechnicality is
easily forgiven.
Inalovely sliver of poeticjustice, Burke's corpsewas, inkeepingwiththe
law of theday, dissected. As thelecturehad beenabout thehumanbrain,
it seems unlikely that thebody cavity would havebeenopened and
notably rearranged, but perhaps this was throwninafter thefact, as a
crowd pleaser. Thefollowingday thelabwas opened to thepublic, and
somethirty thousand vindicated gawkers filed past. Thepost-dissection
cadaver was, by order of thejudge, shipped to theRoyal Collegeof
Surgeons of Edinburghto haveits bones madeinto askeleton, which
resides thereto this day, alongwithoneof several wallets madefrom
Burke's skin.[4]
ThoughKnoxwas never charged for his roleinthemurders, public
sentiment held himaccountable. Thefreshness of thebodies, thefact that
onehad its head and feet cut off and others had blood oozingfromthe
noseor earsall of this should haveraised thebristly Knoxeyebrows.
Theanatomist clearly didn't care. Knoxfurther sullied his reputationby
preservingoneof Burkeand Hare'smorecomely corpses, theprostitute
Mary Paterson, inaclear glass vat of alcohol inhis lab.
Whenaninquiry by alay committeeinto Knox's rolegenerated no formal
actionagainst thedoctor, amobgathered thefollowingday withan
effigy of Knox. (Thethingmust not havelooked agreat deal liketheman,
for they felt theneed to label if. "Knox, theassociateof theinfamous
Hare," explained alargesignonits back.) Thestuffed Knoxwas paraded
throughthestreets to thehouseof thereal Knox, whereit was hungby
its neck fromatreeand thencut downandfittinglytornto pieces.
It was around this timethat Parliament conceded that theanatomy
problemhad gottenatad out of hand and convened acommitteeto
brainstormsolutions. Whilethedebatemainly focused onalternate
sources of bodiesmost notably, unclaimed corpses fromhospitals,
prisons, and workhousessomephysicians raised aninterestingitemof
debate: Is humandissectionreally necessary? Can't anatomy belearned
frommodels, drawings, preserved prosections?
Therehavebeentimes and places, inhistory, whentheanswer to the
question"Is humandissectionnecessary?" was unequivocally yes. Here
aresomeexamples of what canhappenwhenyoutry to figureout how a
humanbody works without actually openingoneup. Inancient China,
Confuciandoctrineconsidered dissectionadefilement of thehuman
body and forbadeits practice. This posed aproblemfor theFather of
ChineseMedicine, HuangTi, who, around 2600B.C., set out to writean
authoritativemedical and anatomical text (Nei Ch'ing, or Canonof
Medicine). As is evident fromthis passagequoted in EarlyHistoryof
HumanAnatomythereareplaces whereHuangis, throughno fault of
his own, rather clearly wingingit:
The heart is a king, who rules over all organs
of the body; the lungs are his executive, who
carry out his orders; the liver is his
commandant, who keeps up the discipline; the
gall bladder, his attorney general and the
spleen, his steward who supervises the five
tastes. There are three burning spacesthe
thorax, the abdomen and the pelviswhich are
together responsible for the sewage system of
the body.
To HuangTi's credit, though, hemanaged, without ever disassemblinga
corpse, to figureout that "theblood of thebody is under thecontrol of
theheart" and that "theblood current flows inacontinuous circleand
never stops." Inother words, themanfigured out what WilliamHarvey
figured out, four thousand years beforeHarvey and without layingopen
any family members.
Imperial Romegives us another niceexampleof what happens to
medicinewhenthegovernment frowns onhumandissection. Galen, one
of history's most revered anatomists, whosetexts went unchallenged for
centuries, never oncedissected ahumancadaver. Inhis post as surgeon
to thegladiators, hehad afrequent, if piecemeal, window onthehuman
interior intheformof gapingsword wounds and lionclaw lacerations.
Healso dissected agood sumof animals, preferably apes, whichhe
believed to beanatomically identical to humans, especially, he
maintained, if theapehad around face. Thegreat Renaissanceanatomist
Vesalius later pointed out that therearetwo hundred anatomical
differences betweenapes and humans inskeletal structurealone.
(Whatever Galen's shortcomings as acomparativeanatomist, themanis
to berespected for his ingenuity, for procuringapes inancient Rome
can't havebeeneasy.) Hegot alot right, it's just that healso got afair
amount wrong. His drawings showed five-lobed livers and hearts with
threeventricles.
Theancient Greeks weresimilarly adrift whenit cameto human
anatomy. LikeGalen, Hippocrates never dissected ahumancadaverhe
called dissection"unpleasant if not cruel." Accordingto thebook Early
Historyof HumanAnatomy, Hippocrates referred to tendons as "nerves"
and believed thehumanbrainto beamucus-secretinggland. ThoughI
found this informationsurprising, this beingtheFather of Medicinewe
aretalkingabout, I did not questionit. Youdo not questionanauthor
who appears onthetitlepageas "T.V.N. Persaud, M.D., Ph.D., D.Sc,
F.R.C.Path. (Lond.), F.F.Path. (R.C.P.I.), F.A.C.O.G." Who knows, perhaps
history erred inbestowinguponHippocrates thetitleFather of Medicine.
Perhaps T.V.N. Persaud is theFather of Medicine.
It's no coincidencethat themanwho contributed themost to thestudy of
humananatomy, theBelgianAndreas Vesalius, was anavid proponent of
do-it-yourself, get-your-fussy-Renaissance-shirt-dirty anatomical
dissection. Thoughhumandissectionwas anaccepted practiceinthe
Renaissance-eraanatomy class, most professors shied away from
personally undertakingit, preferringto deliver their lectures whileseated
inraised chairs asafeand tidy removefromthecorpseand pointingout
structures withawoodenstick whileahired hand did theslicing.
Vesalius disapproved of this practice, and wasn't shy about his feelings.
InC. D. O'Malley's biography of theman, Vesalius likens thelecturers to
"jackdaws aloft intheir highchair, withegregious arrogancecroaking
things they havenever investigated but merely committed to memory
fromthebooks of others. Thus everythingis wrongly taught,and days
arewasted inridiculous questions."
Vesalius was adissector suchashistory had never seen. This was aman
who encouraged his students to "observethetendons whilediningon
any animal." WhilestudyingmedicineinBelgium, henot only dissected
thecorpses of executed criminals but snatched themfromthegibbet
himself.
Vesalius produced aseries of richly detailed anatomical plates and text
called DeHumani CorporisFabrica, themost venerated anatomy book in
history. Thequestionthenbecomes, was it necessary, oncethelikes of
Vesalius had pretty muchfigured out thebasics, for every student of
anatomy to get right inthereand figurethemout all over again? Why
couldn't models and preserved prosections beused to teachanatomy? Do
gross anatomy labs reinvent thewheel? Thequestions wereespecially
relevant inKnox's day, giventheway inwhichbodies wereprocured,
but they arestill relevant today.
I asked HughPattersonabout this and learned that, infact, whole-
cadaver dissectionis beingphased out at somemedical schools. Indeed,
thegross anatomy courseI visited at UCSF was thelast oneinwhich
students will dissect entirecadavers. Beginningthefollowingsemester,
they would bestudyingpro-sectionsembalmed sections of thebody cut
and prepared so as to display key anatomical features and systems. Over
at theUniversity of Colorado, theCenter for HumanSimulationis
leadingthechargetoward digital anatomy instruction. In1993, they froze
acadaver and sanded off amillimeter cross sectionat atime,
photographingeachnew view1,871inallto createan on-screen,
maneuverable3-D renditionof themanand all his parts, asort of flight
simulator for students of anatomy and surgery.
Thechanges intheteachingof anatomy havenothingto do withcadaver
shortages or publicopinionabout dissection; they haveeverythingto do
withtime. Despitetheimmeasurableadvances madeinmedicineover
thepast century, thematerial must becovered inthesamenumber of
years. Sufficeit to say there's alot less timefor dissectionthantherewas
inAstley Cooper's day.
I asked thestudents inPatterson's gross anatomy labhow they'd feel if
they hadn't had achanceto dissect abody. Whilesome, said they would
feel cheatedthat thegross anatomy cadaver experiencewas a
physician's riteof passagemany expressed approval. "Therewere
days," said one, "whenit all clicked and I gained asort of understandingI
could never havegottenfromabook. But therewereother days, alot of
days, whencomingup hereand spendingtwo hours felt likeahuge
wasteof time."
But gross anatomy labis not just about learninganatomy. It is about
confrontingdeath. Gross anatomy provides themedical student with
what is very oftenhis or her first exposureto adead body; as such, it has
longbeenconsidered avital, necessary step inthedoctor's education. But
what was learned, up until quiterecently, was not respect and sensitivity,
but theopposite. Thetraditional gross anatomy labrepresented asort of
sink-or-swimmentality about dealingwithdeath. To copewithwhat was
beingasked of them, medical students had to find ways to desensitize
themselves. They quickly learned to objectify cadavers, to think of the
dead as structures and tissues, and not aformer humanbeing. Humor
at thecadaver's expensewas tolerated, condoned even. "Therewas a
timenot all that longago," says Art Dalley, director of theMedical
Anatomy Programat Vanderbilt University, "whenstudents weretaught
to beinsensitive, as acopingmechanism."
Moderneducators feel therearebetter, moredirect ways to address
deaththanhandingstudents ascalpel and assigningthemacorpse. In
Patterson's anatomy class at UCSF, as inmany others, someof thetime
saved by eliminatingfull-body dissectionwill bedevoted to aspecial unit
ondeathand dying. If you'regoingto bringinanoutsider to teach
students about death, ahospicepatient or grief counselor surely has as
muchto offer as adead mandoes.
If thetrend continues, medicinemay find itself withsomething
unimaginabletwo centuries ago: asurplus of cadavers. It is remarkable
how deeply and how quickly publicopinionregardingdissectionand
body donationhas comearound. I asked Art Dalley what accounted for
thechange. Hecited acombinationof factors. The1960s saw thefirst
heart transplant and thepassingof theUniformAnatomical Gift Act,
bothof whichraised awareness of theneed for organs for transplantation
and of body donationas anoption. Around thesametime, Dalley says,
therewas anotableincreaseinthecost of funerals. This was followed by
thepublicationof TheAmericanWayof DeathJessicaMitford's biting
exposof thefuneral industryand asuddenupswinginthepopularity
of cremation. Willingone's body to sciencebeganto beseenas another
acceptableand, inthis case, altruisticalternativeto burial.
To thosefactors I would add thepopularizationof science. Thegains in
theaverageperson's understandingof biology have, I imagine, worked to
dissolvetheromanceof deathand burialthelingeringnotionof the
cadaver assomebeatificbeinginanotherworldly realmof satinand
choralemusic, thewell-groomed almost-humanwho simply likes to
sleep alot, underground, inhis clothing. Thepeopleof the1800s seemed
to feel that burial culminated inafateless ghastly thanthat of dissection.
But that, as we'll see, is hardly thecase.
Footnotes:
[1] Whichwas also, up until 1965, not acrimeinany U.S. state. When
necrophilia's best-knownmodern-day practitioner, Sacramento mortuary
worker KarenGreenlee, was caught abscondingwithadead youngman
in1979, shewas fined for illegally drivingahearsebut not for theact
itself, as Californiahad no statutes regardingsexwiththedead. To date,
only sixteenstates haveenacted necrophilialaws. Thelanguageused by
eachstatereflects its particular character. WhiletaciturnMinnesotarefers
to thosewho "carnally know adead body," freewheelingNevadaspells it
all out: "It is afelony to engageincunnilingus, fellatio, or any intrusionof
any part of aperson's body, or any object manipulated or inserted by a
personinto thegenital or anal openings of thebody of another wherethe
offender performs theseacts onthedead body of ahumanbeing."
[2] How could peopleof thenineteenthcentury haveallowed teethfrom
cadavers to beput into their mouths? Thesameway peoplefromthe
twenty-first century canallow tissuefromcadavers to beinjected into
their faces to fill wrinkles. They possibly didn't know and probably didn't
care.
[3] Withthehelp of aninterpreter, I got thenumber of anOscar Rafael
Hernandez livinginBarranquilla. A womananswered thephoneand
said that Oscar was not in, whereuponmy interpreter gamely asked her
if Oscar was agarbagepicker, and if hehad beenalmost murdered by
thugs who wanted to sell himto amedical school for dissection. A
barrageof agitated Spanishensued, whichmy interpreter summed up:
"It's thewrongOscar Rafael Hernandez."
[4] SheenaJones, thesecretary at thecollegewho told meabout the
walletwhichshecalled a"pocket book," nearly leadingmeto writethat
ladies' handbags had beenmadefromBurke's hidesaid it had been
donated by oneGeorgeChiene, now deceased. Mrs. Jones did not know
who had madeor originally owned thewallet or whether Mr. Chienehad
ever kept his money init, but sheobserved that it looked likeany other
brownleather wallet and that "youwould not know it is madefrom
humanskin."
3
LifeAfterDeath
Onhumandecayandwhatcanbedoneaboutit
Out behind theUniversity of TennesseeMedical Center is alovely,
forested grovewithsquirrels leapinginthebranches of hickory treesand
birds callingand patches of greengrass wherepeoplelieontheir backs in
thesun, or sometimes theshade, dependingonwheretheresearchers put
them.
This pleasant Knoxvillehillsideis afield researchfacility, theonly onein
theworld dedicatedto thestudy of humandecay. Thepeoplelyinginthe
sunaredead. They aredonated cadavers, helping, intheir mute, fragrant
way, to advancethescienceof criminal forensics. For themoreyouknow
about how dead bodies decaythebiological and chemical phases they
go through, how longeachphaselasts, how theenvironment affects these
phasesthebetter equipped youareto figureout whenany givenbody
died: inother words, theday and eventheapproximatetimeof day it
was murdered. Thepolicearepretty good at pinpointingapproximate
timeof deathinrecently dispatched bodies. Thepotassiumlevel of the
gel insidetheeyes is helpful duringthefirst twenty-four hours, as is
algor mortisthecoolingof adead body; barringtemperatureextremes,
corpses loseabout 1.5degrees Fahrenheit per hour until they reachthe
temperatureof theair around them. (Rigor mortis is morevariable: It
starts afew hours after death, usually inthehead and neck, and
continues, movingondownthebody, finishingup and disappearing
anywherefromtento forty-eight hours after death.)
If abody has beendead longer thanthreedays, investigators turnto
entomological clues (e.g., how old arethesefly larvae?) and stages of
decay for their answers. And decay is highlydependent on
environmental and situational factors. What's theweather beenlike? Was
thebody buried? Inwhat? Seekingbetter understandingof theeffects of
thesefactors, theUniversity of Tennessee(UT) Anthropological Research
Facility, as it is blandly and vaguely called, has buried bodies inshallow
graves, encased theminconcrete, left themincar trunks and man-made
ponds, and wrapped theminplasticbags. Pretty muchanythingakiller
might do to disposeof adead body theresearchers at UT havedonealso.
To understand how thesevariables affect thetimelineof decomposition,
youmust beintimately acquainted withyour control scenario: basic,
unadulterated humandecay. That's why I'mhere. That's what I want to
know: Whenyoulet naturetakeits course, just exactly what coursedoes
it take?
My guideto theworld of humandisassembly is apatient, amiableman
named Arpad Vass. Vass has studied thescienceof human
decompositionfor morethanadecade. Heis anadjunct research
professor of forensicanthropology at UT and asenior staff scientist at the
nearby Oak RidgeNational Laboratory. Oneof Arpad's projects at ORNL
has beento develop amethod of pinpointingtimeof deathby analyzing
tissuesamples fromthevictim's organs and measuringtheamounts of
dozens of different time-dependent decay chemicals. This profileof
decay chemicals is thenmatched against thetypical profiles for that
tissuefor eachpassingpostmortemhour. Intest runs, Arpad's method
has determined thetimeof deathto withinplus or minus twelvehours.
Thesamples heused to establishthevarious chemical breakdowntime
lines camefrombodies at thedecay facility. Eighteenbodies, someseven
hundred samples inall. It was anunspeakabletask, particularly inthe
later stages of decomposition, and particularly for certainorgans. "We'd
haveto roll thebodies over to get at theliver," recalls Arpad. Thebrain
hegot to usingaprobethroughtheeyeorbit. Interestingly, neither of
theseactivities was responsiblefor Arpad's closest brushwithon-the-job
regurgitation. "Oneday last summer," hesays weakly, "I inhaledafly. I
could feel it buzzingdownmy throat."
I haveasked Arpad what it's liketo do this sort of work. "What do you
mean?" heasked meback. "Youwant avivid descriptionof what's going
throughmy brainas I'mcuttingthroughaliver and all theselarvaeare
spillingout all over meand juicepops out of theintestines?" I kind of
did, but I kept quiet. Hewent on: "I don't really focus onthat. I tryto
focus onthevalueof thework. It takes theedgeoff thegrotesqueness."
As for thehumanness of his specimens, that no longer disturbs him.
Thoughit oncedid. Heused to lay thebodies ontheir stomachs so he
didn't haveto seetheir faces.
This morning, Arpad and I areridingintheback of avanbeingdrivenby
thelovableand agreeableRonWalli, oneof ORNL's mediarelations
guys. Ronpulls into arow of parkingspaces at thefar end of theUT
Medical Center lot, labeled G section. Onhot summer days, youcan
always find aparkingspaceinG section, and not just becauseit's a
longer walk to thehospital. G sectionis bordered by atall woodenfence
topped withconcertinawire, and ontheother sideof thefencearethe
bodies. Arpad steps downfromthevan. "Smell's not that bad today," he
says. His "not that bad" has that hollow, over-upbeat toneonehears
whenspouses back over flowerbeds or homehair coloringgoes awry.
Ron, who beganthetrip inachipper mood, happily pointingout
landmarksand singingalongwiththeradio, has thelook of a
condemned man. Arpad sticks his head inthewindow. "Areyoucoming
in, Ron, or areyougoingto hideinthecar again?" Ronsteps out and
glumly follows. Althoughthis is his fourthtimein, hesays he'll never get
used to it. It's not thefact that they'redeadRonsaw accident victims
routinely inhis former post as anewspaper reporterit's thesights and
smells of decay. "Thesmell just stays withyou," hesays. "Or that's what
youimagine. I must havewashed my hands and facetwenty times after I
got back frommy first timeout here."
Just insidethegatearetwo old-fashioned metal mailboxes onposts, as
thoughsomeof theresidents had managed to convincethepostal service
that death, likerainor sleet or hail, should not stay theregular delivery
of theU.S. Mail. Arpad opens oneand pulls turquoiserubber surgical
gloves fromabox, two for himand two for me. Heknows not to offer
themto Ron.
"Let's start over there." Arpad is pointingto alargemalefigureabout
twenty feet distant. Fromthis distance, hecould benapping, though
thereis somethinginthelay of thearms and thestillness of himthat
suggests somethingmorepermanent. Wewalk toward theman. Ron
stays near thegate, feigninginterest intheconstructiondetails of a
toolshed.
Likemany big-bellied peopleinTennessee, thedead manis dressed for
comfort. Hewears gray sweatpants and asingle-pocket whiteT-shirt.
Arpad explains that oneof thegraduatestudents is studyingtheeffects
of clothingonthedecay process. Normally, they arenaked.
Thecadaver inthesweatpants is thenewest arrival. Hewill beour poster
manfor thefirst stageof humandecay, the"fresh" stage. ("Fresh," as in
freshfish, not freshair. As inrecently dead but not necessarily something
youwant to put your noseright up to.) Thehallmark of fresh-stagedecay
is aprocess called autolysis, or self-digestion. Humancells useenzymes
to cleavemolecules, breakingcompounds downinto things they canuse.
Whileapersonis alive, thecells keep theseenzymes incheck, preventing
themfrombreakingdownthecells' ownwalls. After death, theenzymes
operateunchecked and begineatingthroughthecell structure, allowing
theliquid insideto leak out.
"Seetheskinonhis fingertips there?" says Arpad. Two of thedead man's
fingers aresheathed withwhat look likerubber fingertips of thesort
wornby accountants and clerks. "Theliquid fromthecells gets between
thelayers of skinand loosens them. As that progresses, youseeskin
sloughage." Mortuary types haveadifferent namefor this. They call it
"skinslip." Sometimes theskinof theentirehand will comeoff. Mortuary
types don't haveanamefor this, but forensics types do. It's called
"gloving."
"As theprocess progresses, youseegiant sheets of skinpeelingoff the
body," says Arpad. Hepulls up thehemof theman's shirt to seeif,
indeed, giant sheets arepeeling. They arenot, and that's okay.
Somethingelseis goingon. Squirminggrains of ricearecrowded into the
man's belly button. It's aricegrainmoshpit. But ricegrains do not move.
Thesecannot begrains of rice. They arenot. They areyoungflies.
Entomologists haveanamefor youngflies, but it is anugly name, an
insult. Let's not usetheword "maggot." Let's useapretty word. Let's use
"hacienda."
Arpad explains that theflies lay their eggs onthebody's points of entry:
theeyes, themouth, openwounds, genitalia. Unlikeolder, larger
haciendas, thelittleones can't eat throughskin. I makethemistakeof
askingArpad what thelittlehaciendas areafter.
Arpad walks around to thecorpse's left foot. It is bluishand theskinis
transparent. "Seethe[haciendas] under theskin? They'reeatingthe
subcutaneous fat. They lovefat."I seethem. They arespaced out, moving
slowly. It's kind of beautiful, this man's skinwiththesetiny whiteslivers
embedded just beneathits surface. It looks likeexpensiveJapaneserice
paper. Youtell yourself thesethings.
Let us returnto thedecay scenario. Theliquid that is leakingfromthe
enzyme-ravaged cells is now makingits way throughthebody. Soon
enoughit makes contact withthebody's bacteriacolonies: theground
troops of putrefaction. Thesebacteriawerethereinthelivingbody as
well, intheintestinal tract, inthelungs, ontheskintheplaces that came
incontact withtheoutsideworld. Lifeis lookingrosy for our one-celled
friends. They'vealready beenenjoyingthebenefits of adecommissioned
humanimmunesystem, and now, suddenly, they'reawashwiththis
ediblegoo, issuingfromtheruptured cells of theintestinelining. It's
rainingfood. As will happenintimes of plenty, thepopulationswells.
Someof thebacteriamigrateto thefar frontiers of thebody, travelingby
sea, afloat inthesameliquid that keeps themnourished. Soonbacteria
areeverywhere. Thesceneis set for stagetwo: bloat.
Thelifeof abacteriumis built around food. Bacteriadon't havemouths
or fingers or Wolf Ranges, but they eat. They digest. They excrete. Like
us, they break their food downinto its moreelemental components. The
enzymes inour stomachs break meat downinto proteins. Thebacteriain
our gut break thoseproteins downinto amino acids; they takeup where
weleaveoff. Whenwedie, they stop feedingonwhat we'veeatenand
beginfeedingonus. And, just as they do whenwe'realive, they produce
gas intheprocess. Intestinal gas is awasteproduct of bacteria
metabolism.
Thedifferenceis that whenwe'realive, weexpel that gas. Thedead,
lackingworkablestomachmuscles and sphincters and bedmates to
annoy, do not. Cannot. So thegas builds up and thebelly bloats. I ask
Arpad why thegas wouldn't just get forced out eventually. Heexplains
that thesmall intestinehas pretty muchcollapsed and sealed itself off. Or
that theremight be"something" blockingits egress. Thoughheallows,
withsomeprodding, that alittlebad air oftendoes, infact, slip out, and
so, as amatter of record, it canbesaid that dead peoplefart. It needn't be,
but it can.
Arpad motions meto follow himup thepath. Heknows whereagood
exampleof thebloat stagecanbefound.
Ronis still downby theshed, effectingsomesort of gratuitous lawn
mower maintenance, determined to avoid thesights and smellsbeyond
thegate. I call for himto joinme. I feel theneed for company, someone
elsewho doesn't seethis sort of thingevery day. Ronfollows, lookingat
his sneakers. Wepass askeletonsixfeet seveninches tall and dressed ina
red Harvard sweatshirt and sweatpants. Ron's eyes stay onhis shoes. We
pass awomanwhosesizablebreasts havedecomposed, leavingonly the
skins, likeflattened botabags uponher chest. Ron's eyes stay onhis
shoes.
Bloat is most noticeableintheabdomen, Arpad is saying, wherethe
largest numbers of bacteriaare, but it happens inother bacterial hot
spots, most notably themouthand genitalia. "Inthemale, thepenis and
especially thetesticles canbecomevery large."
"Likehow large?" (Forgiveme.)
"I don't know. Large."
"Softball large? Watermelonlarge?"
"Okay, softball." Arpad Vass is amanwithinfinitereserves of patience,
but wearescrapingthebottomof thetank.
Arpad continues. Bacteria-generated gas bloats thelips and thetongue,
thelatter oftento thepoint of makingit protrudefromthemouth: Inreal
lifeas it is incartoons. Theeyes do not bloat becausetheliquid longago
leached out. They aregone. Xs. Inreal lifeas it is incartoons.
Arpad stops and looks down. "That's bloat." Beforeus is amanwitha
torso greatly distended. It is of acircumferenceI morereadily associate
withlivestock. As for thegroin, it is difficult to tell what's goingon;
insects cover thearea, likesomethingheis wearing. Thefaceis similarly
obscured. Thelarvaearetwo weeks older thantheir peers downthehill
and muchlarger. Wherebeforethey had beengrains of rice, herethey are
cooked rice. They livelikerice, too, pressed together: amoist, solid entity.
If youlower your head to withinafoot or two of aninfested corpse(and
this I truly don't recommend), youcanhear themfeeding. Arpad
pinpoints thesound: "RiceKrispies." Ronfrowns. Ronused to likeRice
Krispies.
Bloat continues until somethinggives way. Usually it is theintestines.
Every now and thenit is thetorso itself. Arpad has never seenit, but he
has heard it, twice. "A rending, rippingnoise" is how hedescribes it.
Bloat is typically short-lived, perhaps aweek and it's over. Thefinal
stage, putrefactionand decay, lasts longest.
Putrefactionrefers to thebreakingdownand gradual liquefactionof
tissueby bacteria. It is goingonduringthebloat phasefor thegas that
bloats abody is beingcreated by thebreakdownof tissuebut its effects
arenot yet obvious.
Arpad continues up thewooded slope. "This womanover hereis farther
along," hesays. That's aniceway to say it. Dead people, unembalmed
ones anyway, basically dissolve; they collapseand sink inupon
themselves and eventually seep out onto theground. Do yourecall the
Margaret HamiltondeathsceneinTheWizardof Oz? ("I'mmelting!")
Putrefactionis moreor less aslowed-downversionof this. Thewoman
lies inamud of her ownmaking. Her torso appears sunken, its organs
goneleached out onto theground around her.
Thedigestiveorgans and thelungs disintegratefirst, for they arehometo
thegreatest numbers of bacteria; thelarger your work crew, thefaster the
buildingcomes down. Thebrainis another early-departureorgan.
"Becauseall thebacteriainthemouthchew throughthepalate," explains
Arpad. And becausebrains aresoft and easy to eat. "Thebrainliquefies
very quickly. It just pours out theears and bubbles out themouth."
Up until about threeweeks, Arpad says, remnants of organs canstill be
identified. "After that, it becomes likeasoup inthere." Becauseheknew I
was goingto ask, Arpad adds, "Chickensoup. It's yellow."
Ronturns onhis heels. "Great." Weruined RiceKrispies for Ron, and
now wehaveruined chickensoup.
Muscles areeatennot only by bacteria, but by carnivorous beetles. I
wasn't awarethat meat-eatingbeetles existed, but thereyougo.
Sometimes theskingets eaten, sometimes not. Sometimes, dependingon
theweather, it dries out and mummifies, whereuponit is too toughfor
just about anyone's taste. Onour way out, Arpad shows us askeleton
withmummified skin, lyingfacedown. Theskinhas remained onthelegs
as far as thetops of theankles. Thetorso, likewise, is covered, about up to
theshoulder blades. Theedgeof theskinis curved, givingthe
appearanceof ascooped neckline, as onadancer's leotard. Though
naked, heseems dressed. Theoutfit is not as colorful or, perhaps, warm
as aHarvard sweatsuit, but morefittingfor thevenue.
Westand for aminute, lookingat theman.
Thereis apassageintheBuddhist SutraonMindfulness called theNine
Cemetery Contemplations. Apprenticemonks areinstructed to meditate
onaseries of decomposingbodies inthecharnel ground, startingwitha
body "swollenand blueand festering," progressingto one"beingeaten
bydifferent kinds of worms," and movingonto askeleton, "without
fleshand blood, held together by thetendons." Themonks weretold to
keep meditatinguntil they werecalmand asmileappeared ontheir
faces. I describethis toArpad and Ron, explainingthat theideais to
cometo peacewiththetransient natureof our bodily existence, to
overcometherevulsionand fear. Or something.
Weall stareat theman. Arpad swats at flies.
"So," says Ron. "Lunch?"
Outsidethegate, wespend alongtimescrapingthebottoms of our boots
onacurb. Youdon't haveto step onabody to carry thesmells of death
withyouonyour shoes. For reasons wehavejust seen, thesoil around a
corpseis soddenwiththeliquids of humandecay. By analyzingthe
chemicals inthis soil, peoplelikeArpad cantell if abody has beenmoved
fromwhereit decayed. If theuniquevolatilefatty acids and compounds
of humandecay aren't there, thebody didn't decomposethere.
Oneof Arpad's graduatestudents, Jennifer Love, has beenworkingonan
aromascantechnology for estimatingtimeof death. Based ona
technology used inthefood and wineindustries, thedevice, now being
funded by theFBI, would beasort of hand-held electronicnosethat
could bewaved over abody and used to identify theuniqueodor
signaturethat acorpseputs off at different stages of decay.
I tell themthat theFord Motor Company developed anelectronicnose
programmed to identify acceptable"new car smell." Car buyers expect
their purchases to smell acertainway: leathery and new, but withno
vinyl off-gassy smells. Thenosemakes surethecars comply. Arpad
observes that thenew-car-smell electronicnoseprobably uses a
technology similar to what theelectronicnosefor cadavers would use.
"Just don't get 'emconfused," deadpans Ron. Heis imaginingayoung
couple, back fromatest drive, thewomanturningto her husband and
saying: "Youknow, that car smelled likeadead person."
It is difficult to put words to thesmell of decomposinghuman. It is dense
and cloying, sweet but not flower-sweet. Halfway betweenrottingfruit
and rottingmeat. Onmy walk homeeachafternoon, I pass afetid little
producestorethat gets themixalmost right, so muchso that I find myself
peeringbehindthepapayabins for anarmor aglimpseof naked feet.
Barringavisit to my neighborhood, I would direct thecurious to a
chemical supply company, fromwhichonecanorder syntheticversions
of many of thesevolatiles. Arpad's labhas rows of labeled glass vials:
Skatole, Indole, Putrescine, Cadaverine. Themoment whereinI uncorked
theputrescineinhis officemay well bethemoment hebeganlooking
forward to my departure. Evenif you'venever beenaround adecaying
body, you'vesmelled putrescine. Decayingfishthrows off putrescine, a
fact I learned fromagrippingJournal of FoodSciencearticleentitled "Post-
MortemChanges inBlack Skipjack MuscleDuringStorageinIce." This
fits inwithsomethingArpad told me. Hesaid heknew acompany that
manufactured aputrescinedetector, whichdoctors could useinplaceof
swabs and cultures to diagnosevaginitis or, I suppose, ajobat the
skipjack cannery.
Themarket for syntheticputrescineand cadaverineis small, but devoted.
Thehandlers of "humanremains dogs" usethesecompounds for
training.[1] Humanremains dogs aredistinct fromthedogs that search
for escaped felons and thedogs that searchfor wholecadavers. They are
trained to alert their owners whenthey detect thespecificscents of
decomposed humantissue. They canpinpoint thelocationof acorpseat
thebottomof alakeby sniffingthewater's surfacefor thegases and fats
that float up fromtherottingremains. They candetect thelingeringscent
molecules of adecomposingbody up to fourteenmonths after thekiller
lugged it away.
I had troublebelievingthis whenI heard it. I no longer havetrouble. The
soles of my boots, despitewashingand soakinginClorox, would smell of
corpsefor months after my visit.
Rondrives us and our littlecloud of stink to ariversiderestaurant for
lunch. Thehostess is youngand pink and clean-looking. Her plump
forearms and tight-fittingskinaremiracles. I imagineher smellingof
talcumpowder and shampoo, thelight, happysmells of theliving. We
stand apart fromthehostess and theother customers, as thoughwewere
travelingwithanill-tempered, unpredictabledog. Arpad signals to the
hostess that wearethree. Four, if youcount TheSmell.
"Would youliketo sit indoors ?"
Arpad cuts her off. "Outdoors. And away frompeople."
That is thestory of humandecay. I would wager that if thegood people
of theeighteenthand nineteenthcenturies had knownwhat happens to
dead bodies inthesort of detail that youand I now know, dissection
might not haveseemed so uniquely horrific. Onceyou'veseenbodies
dissected, and onceyou'veseenthemdecomposing, theformer doesn't
seemso dreadful. Yes, thepeopleof theeighteenthand nineteenth
centuries wereburied, but that only served to draw out theprocess. Even
inacoffinsixfeet deep, thebody eventually decomposes. Not all the
bacterialivinginahumanbody requireoxygen; thereareplenty of
anaerobicbacteriaup to thetask.
Nowadays, of course, wehaveembalming. Doesthis meanwearespared
theunsavory fateof gradual liquefaction? Has modernmortuary science
created aneternity freefromunpleasant mess and stains? Canthedead
beaesthetically pleasing? Let's go see!
Aneyecap is asimpleten-cent pieceof plastic. It is slightly larger thana
contact lens, less flexible, and considerably less comfortable. Theplasticis
repeatedly lanced through, so that small, sharp spurs stick up fromits
surface. Thespurs work onthesameprincipleas thosesteel spikes that
threatenSevereTireDamageonbehalf of rental car companies: The
eyelid will comedownover aneyecap, but, onceclosed, will not easily
openback up. Eyecaps wereinvented by amorticianto help dead people
keep their eyes shut.
Therehavebeentimes this morningwhenI wished that someonehad
outfitted mewithapair of eyecaps. I'vebeenstandingaround, eyelids
up, inthebasement embalmingroomof theSanFrancisco Collegeof
Mortuary Science.
Upstairs is aworkingmortuary, and aboveit aretheclassrooms and
offices of thecollege, oneof thenation's oldest and best-respected.[2] In
exchangefor apricebreak inthecost of embalmingand other mortuary
services, customers agreeto let students practiceontheir lovedones. Like
gettinga$5haircut at theVidal SassoonAcademy, sort of, sort of not.
I had called thecollegeto get answers about embalming: How longdoes
it preservecorpses, and inwhat form? Is it possibleto never decompose?
How does it work? They agreed to answer my questions, and thenthey
asked meone. Did I want to comedownand seehow it's done? I did, sort
of, sort of not.
Presidingat theembalmingtabletoday arefinal-semester students Theo
Martinez and NicoleD'Ambrogio. Theo, adark-haired manof thirty-nine
withalong, distinguished faceand narrow build, turned to mortuary
scienceafter astringof jobs incredit unions and travel agencies. Hesays
heliked thefact that mortuary jobs oftenincludehousing. (Beforecell
phones and pagers, most funeral homes werebuilt withapartments, so
that someonewas always thereshould acall comeinat night.) For the
beautiful and glossy-haired Nicole, episodes of Quincysparked an
interest inthecareer, whichis alittlepuzzling, becauseQuincy, if I recall,
was apathologist. (No matter what they say, theanswer never quite
satisfies.) Thepair aregarbed inplasticand latex, as amI and anyoneelse
who plans to enter the"splasharea." They areworkingwithblood; the
garments areaprecautionagainst it and all it may bringon: HIV,
hepatitis, stains onyour shirt.
Theobject of their attentions at themoment is aseventy-five-year-old
man, or athree-week-old cadaver, however youprefer to think of it. The
manhad donated his body to science, but, owingto its havingbeen
autopsied, sciencepolitely declined. Ananatomy labis as choosy as a
pedigreed womanseekinglove: Youcan't betoo fat or too tall or have
any communicablediseases. Followingathree-week sojournina
university refrigerator, thecadaver wound up here. I haveagreed to
disguiseany identifyingfeatures, thoughI suspect that thedehydrating
air of refrigerationhas gottenajump onthetask. Helooks gaunt and
desiccated. Somethingof theold parsnip about him.
Beforetheembalmingbegins, theexterior of thecorpseis cleaned and
groomed, as it would bewerethis manto bedisplayed inanopencasket
or presented to thefamily for aprivateviewing. (Inreality, whenthe
students arethrough, no onebut thecremationfurnaceattendant will see
him.) Nicoleswabs themouthand eyes withdisinfectant, thenrinses
bothwithajet of water. ThoughI know themanto bedead, I expect to
seehimflinchwhenthecottonswabhits his eye, to coughand sputter
whenthewater hits theback of his throat. His stillness, his dead-ness, is
surreal.
Thestudents movepurposefully. Nicoleis lookingintheman's mouth.
Her hand rests sweetly onhis chest. Concerned, shecalls Theo over to
look. They talk quietly and thenheturns to me. "There's material sitting
inthemouth," hesays.
I nod, picturingcorduroy, swatches of gingham. "Material?"
"Purge," offers Nicole. It's not helping.
Hugh"Mack" McMonigle, aninstructor at thecollege, who is supervising
this morning's session, steps up besideme. "What happened is that
whatever was inthestomachfound its way into themouth." Gases
created by bacterial decay build up and put pressureonthestomach,
squeezingits contents back up theesophagus and into themouth. The
situationappears not to bother Theo and Nicole, thoughpurgeis a
relatively infrequent visitor to theembalmingroom.
Theo explains that heis goingto useanaspirator. As if to distract me
fromwhat I amseeing, hekeeps up afriendly patter. "TheSpanishfor
'vacuum' isaspiradora."
Beforeswitchingontheaspirator, Theo takes aclothto theman's chin
and wipes away asubstancethat looks but surely doesn't tastelike
chocolatesyrup. I ask himhow hecopes withtheunpleasantnesses of
dealingwithdead strangers' bodiesand secretions. LikeArpad Vass, he
says that hetries to focus onthepositives. "If thereareparasites or the
personhas dirty teethor they didn't wipetheir nosebeforethey died,
you'reimprovingthesituation, makingthemmorepresentable."
Theo issingle. I ask himwhether studyingto beamorticianhas been
havingadeleterious effect onhis lovelife. Hestraightens up and looks at
me. "I'mshort, I'mthin, I'mnot rich. I would say my career choiceis in
fourthplaceinlimitingmy effectivenessas asingleadult." (It's possible
that it helped. Withinayear, hewould bemarried.)
Next Theo coats thefacewithwhat I assumeto besomesort of
disinfectinglotion, whichlooks alot likeshavingcream. Thereasonthat
it looks alot likeshavingcream, it turns out, is that it is. Theo slides a
new bladeinto arazor. "Whenyoushaveadecedent, it's really different."
"I bet."
"Theskinisn't ableto heal, so youhaveto bereally careful about nicks.
Oneshaveper razor, and thenyouthrow it away." I wonder whether the
man, inhis dyingdays, ever stood beforeamirror, razor inhand,
wonderingif it might behis last shave, unawareof theactual last shave
that fatehad arranged for him.
"Now we'regoingto set thefeatures," says Theo. Heliftsoneof theman's
eyelids and packs tufts of cottonunderneathto fill out thelid theway the
man's eyeballs oncedid. Oddly, thecultureI associatemost closely with
cotton, theEgyptians, did not usetheir famous Egyptiancottonfor
plumpingout withered eyes. Theancient Egyptians put pearl onions in
there. Onions. Speakingfor myself, if I had to haveasmall round martini
garnishinserted under my eyelids, I would go witholives.
Ontop of thecottongo apair of eyecaps. "Peoplewould find it
disturbingto find theeyes open," explains Theo, and thenheslides down
thelids. Inthecorner of my viewingscreen, my braindisplays aspecial
pull-out graphic, ananimated close-up of thelittlespurs inaction. Madre
dedio! Aspiradora! Cometheday, youwon't beseeingmeinanopen
casket.
As afeatureof thecommonman's funeral, theopencasket is arelatively
recent development: around 150years. Accordingto Mack, it serves
several purposes, asidefromprovidingwhat undertakers call "the
memory picture." It reassures thefamily that, one, their loved oneis
unequivocally dead and not about to beburied alive, and, two, that the
body inthecasket is indeed their loved one, and not thestiff fromthe
container besidehis. I read inThePrinciplesandPracticeof Embalmingthat
it cameinto vogueas away for embalmers to show off their skills. Mack
disagrees, notingthat longbeforeembalmingbecamecommonplace,
corpses oniceinsidetheir caskets weredisplayed at funerals. (I am
inclined to believeMack, this beingabook that includes thepassage
"Many of thebody tissues also possess somemeasureof immortality if
they canbekept under proper conditions. Theoretically, it is possible
inthis way to grow achickenheart to thesizeof theworld.")
"Did youalready go inthenose?" Nicoleis holdingaloft tiny chrome
scissors. Theo says no. Shegoes in, first to trimthehair, thenwiththe
disinfectant. "It gives thedecedent somedignity," shesays, plunging
wadded cottoninto and out of his left nostril.
I liketheterm"decedent." It's as thoughthemanweren't dead, but
merely involved insomesort of protracted legal dispute. For evident
reasons, mortuary scienceis awashwitheuphemisms. "Don't say stiff,
corpse, cadaver," scoldsThePrinciplesandPracticeof Embalming. "Say
decedent, remains or Mr. Blank. Don't say 'keep.' Say 'maintain
preservation.'"Wrinkles are"acquired facial markings." Decomposed
brainthat filters downthroughadamaged skull and bubbles out thenose
is "frothy purge."
Thelast featureto beposed is themouth, whichwill hangopenif not
held shut. Theo is narratingfor Nicole, who is usingacurved needleand
heavy-duty stringto suturethejaws together. "Thegoal is to reenter
throughthesameholeand comeinbehind theteeth," says Theo. "Now
she's comingout oneof thenostrils, across theseptum, and thenshe's
goingto reenter themouth. Thereareavariety of ways of closingthe
mouth," headds, and thenhebegins talkingabout somethingcalled a
needleinjector. I posemy ownmouthto resemblethemouthof someone
who is quietly horrified, and this works quitewell to closeTheo's mouth.
Thesuturingproceeds insilence.
Theo and Nicolestep back and regard their work. Mack nods. Mr. Blank
is ready for embalming.
Modernembalmingmakes useof thecirculatory systemto deliver a
liquid preservativeto thebody's cells to halt autolysis and put decay on
hold. Just as blood inthevessels and capillaries oncedelivered oxygen
and nutrients to thecells, now thosesamevessels, emptied of blood, are
deliveringembalmingfluid. Thefirst peopleknownto attempt arterial
embalming[3] wereatrio of Dutchbiologists and anatomists named
Swammerdam, Ruysch, and Blanchard, who lived inthelate1600s. The
early anatomists weredealingwithachronicshortageof bodies for
dissection, and consequently weremotivated to comeup withways to
preservetheones they managed to obtain. Blanchard's textbook was the
first to cover arterial embalming. Hedescribes openingup anartery,
flushingtheblood out withwater, and pumpinginalcohol. I'vebeento
frat parties likethat.
Arterial embalmingdidn't beginto catchoninearnest until theAmerican
Civil War. Up until this point, deadU.S. soldiers wereburied moreor
less wherethey fell. Their families had to send awrittenrequest for
disinterment and ship acoffincapableof beinghermetically sealed to the
nearest quartermaster office, whereuponthequartermaster officer would
assignateamof mento digup theremains and deliver themto the
family. Oftenthecoffins that thefamilies sent werenot hermetically
sealedwho knew what "hermetically" meant? Who knows now?and
they soonbeganto stink and leak. At theurgent pleadings of the
beleaguered delivery brigades, thearmy set about embalmingits dead,
some35,000inall.
Onefineday in1861, atwenty-four-year-old colonel named Elmer
Ellsworthwas shot and killed as heseized aConfederateflagfromatop a
hotel, his rank and courageatestimony to themotivatingpowers of a
humiliatingfirst name. Thecolonel was givenahero's send-off and a
first-class embalmingat thehands of oneThomas Holmes, theFather of
Embalming.[4] Thepublicfiled past Elmer inhis casket, lookingevery bit
thesoldier and nothingat all thedecomposingbody. Embalming
received another boost four years later, whenAbeLincoln's embalmed
body traveled fromWashingtonto his hometowninIllinois. Thetrain
rideamounted toapromotional tour for funerary embalming, for
wherever thetrainstopped, peoplecameto view him, and morethana
few must havenoted that helooked awholelot better inhis casket than
Grandmamahad looked inhers. Word spread and thepracticegrew, like
achickenheart, and soonthewholenationwas sendingtheir decedents
into beposed and preserved.
After thewar, Holmes set up abusiness sellinghis patented embalming
fluid, Innominata, to embalmers, but otherwisebeganto distancehimself
fromthemortuary trade. Heopened adrugstore, manufactured root
beer, and invested inahealthspa, and betweenthethreeof them
managed to squander his considerablesavings. Henever married and
fathered no children(other thanEmbalming), but it wouldn't beaccurate
to say helived alone. Accordingto ChristineQuigley, author of The
Corpse: A History, heshared his Brooklynhousewithsamples of his war-
erahandiwork: Embalmed bodies werestored intheclosets, and heads
sat ontables inthelivingroom. Not all that surprisingly, Holmes began
to go insane, spendinghis final years inand out of institutions. At
seventy, hewas placingads inmortuary tradejournals for arubber-
coated canvas body removal bagthat could, hesuggested, doubleasa
sleepingbag. Shortly beforehedied, Holmes is said to haverequested that
henot beembalmed, thoughwhether this was afunctionof sanity or
insanity was never madeclear.
Theo is feelingaround onMr. Blank's neck. "We'reinsearchof the
carotid artery," heannounces. Hecuts ashort lengthwiseslit intheman's
neck. Becauseno blood flows, it is easy to watch, easy to think of the
actionas simply somethingamandoes onhis job, likecuttingroofing
material or slicingfoamcore, rather thanwhat it would morenormally
be: murder. Now theneck has asecret pocket, and Theo slips his finger
into it. After someprobing, hefinds and raises theartery, whichis then
severed withablade. Thelooseend is pink and rubbery and looks very
muchlikewhat youblow into to inflateawhoopeecushion.
A cannulais inserted into theartery and connected by alengthof tubing
to thecanister of embalmingfluid. Mack starts thepump.
Hereis whereit all begins to makesense. Withinminutes, theman's face
looks rejuvenated. Theembalmingfluid has rehydrated his tissues, filling
out his sunkencheeks, his lined skin. His skinis pink now (the
embalmingfluid contains red coloring), no longer slack and papery. He
looks healthy and surprisingly alive. This is why youdon't just stick
bodies intherefrigerator beforeanopen-casket funeral.
Mack is tellingmeabout aninety-seven-year-old womanwho looked
sixty after her embalming. "Wehad to paint inwrinkles, or thefamily
wouldn't recognizeher."
As haleand youthful as our Mr. Blank looks this morning, hewill still
eventually decompose. Mortuary embalmingis designed to keep a
cadaver lookingfreshand uncadaverous for thefuneral service, but not
muchlonger. (Anatomy departments amp up theprocess by using
greater amounts and higher concentrations of formalin; thesecorpses
may remainintact for years, thoughthey takeonakind of pickled
horror-movieappearance.) "As soonas thewater tablecomes up, and the
coffingets wet," Mack allows, "you'regoingto havethesamekind of
decompositionyouwould havehad if youhadn't doneembalming."
Water reverses thechemical reactions of embalming, hesays.
Funeral homes sell sealed vaults designed to keep air and water out, but
eventhen, thecorpse's prospects for eternal comeliness areiffy. Thebody
may containbacteriaspores, hardy suspended-animationDNA pods,
ableto withstand extremes of temperature, dryness, and chemical abuse,
includingthat of embalming. Eventually theformaldehydebreaks down,
and thecoast is clear for thespores to bringforthbacteria.
"Undertakers used to claimembalmingwas permanent," says Mack. "If it
meant makingthesaleonthat family, believeme, that embalmer was
goingto say anything," agrees Thomas Chambers, of theW. W.
Chambers chainof funeral homes, whosegrandfather walked the
boundaries of tastewhenhedistributed promotional calendars featuring
anudesilhouetteof ashapely womanabovethemortuary's slogan,
"Beautiful Bodies by Chambers." (Thewomanwas not, as JessicaMitford
seemed to hint inTheAmericanWayof Death, acadaver that themortuary
had embalmed; that would havebeengoingtoo far, evenfor Grandpa
Chambers.)
Embalmingfluid companies used to encourageexperimentationby
sponsoringbest-preserved-body contests. Thehopewas that some
undertaker, by craft or serendipity, would figureout theperfect balance
of preservatives and hydrators, enablinghis tradeto preserveabody for
years without mummifyingit. Contestants wereinvited to submit
photographs of decedents who had held up particularly well, alongwith
awrite-up of their formulas and methods. Thewinningentries and
photos would bepublished inmortuary tradejournals, onthepre-Jessica
Mitford assumptionthat no oneoutsidethebusiness ever cracked an
issueof Casket andSunnyside.
I asked Mack what madetheundertakers back off fromtheir claims of
eternal preservation. It was, as it so oftenis, alawsuit. "Onemantook
themup onit. Hebought aspaceinamausoleumand every sixmonths
he'd go inwithhis lunchand openup his mother's casket and visit with
her onhis lunchhour. Oneespecially wet spring, somemoisturegot in,
and cometo find, Momhad grownabeard. Shewas covered withmold.
Hesued, and collected twenty-fivethousand dollars fromthemortuary.
So they'vestopped makingthat statement." Further discouragement has
comefromtheFederal TradeCommission, whose1982Funeral Rule
prohibited mortuary professionals fromclaimingthat thecoffins they
sold provided eternal protectionagainst decay.
And that is embalming. It will makeagood-lookingcorpseof youfor
your funeral, but it will not keep youfromoneday dissolvingand
reeking, frombecomingaHalloweenghoul. It is atemporary
preservative, likethenitrites inyour sausages. Eventually any meat,
regardless of what youdo to it, will wither and go off.
Thepoint is that no matter what youchooseto do withyour body when
youdie, it won't, ultimately, bevery appealing. If youareinclined to
donateyourself to science, youshould not let images of dissectionor
dismemberment put youoff. They areno moreor less gruesome, inmy
opinion, thanordinary decay or thesewingshut of your jaws viayour
nostrils for afuneral viewing. Evencremation, whenyouget right down
to itasW.E.D. Evans, former Senior Lecturer inMorbid Anatomy at the
University of London, did inhis 1963book TheChemistryof Deathisn't a
pretty event:
The skin and hair at once scorch, char and
burn. Heat coagulation of muscle protein may
become evident at this stage, causing the
muscles slowly to contract, and there may be a
steady divarication of the thighs with
gradually developing flexion of the limbs.
There is a popular idea that early in the
cremation process the heat causes the trunk to
flex forwards violently so that the body
suddenly "sits up," bursting open the lid of
the coffin, but this has not been observed
personally.
Occasionally there is swelling of the abdomen
before the skin and abdominal muscles char and
split; the swelling is due to formation of
steam and the expansion of gases in the
abdominal contents.
Destruction of the soft tissues gradually
exposes parts of the skeleton. The skull is
soon devoid of covering, then the bones of the
limbs appear. The abdominal contents burn
fairly slowly, and the lungs more slowly
still. It has been observed that the brain is
specially resistant to complete combustion
during cremation of the body. Even when the
vault of the skull has broken and fallen away,
the brain has been seen as a dark, fused mass
with a rather sticky consistency. Eventually
the spine becomes visible as the viscera
disappear, the bones glow whitely in the
flames and the skeleton falls apart.
Drops of sweat bead theinsidesurfaceof Nicole's splashshield. We've
beenheremorethananhour. It's almost over. Theo looks at Mack. "Will
webesuturingtheanus?" Heturns to me. "Otherwiseleakagecanwick
into thefuneral clothingand it's anawful mess."
I don't mind Theo's matter-of-factness. Lifecontains thesethings: leakage
and wickageand discharge, pus and snot and slimeand gleet. Weare
biology. Wearereminded of this at thebeginningand theend, at birth
and at death. Inbetweenwedo what wecanto forget.
Sinceour decedent will not behavingafuneral service, it is up to Mack
whether thestudents must takethefinal step. Hedecides to let it go.
Unless thevisitor wishes to seeit. They look at me.
"No thank you." Enoughbiology for today.
Footnotes:
[1] Purists amongtheminsist onthereal deal. I spent anafternooninan
abandoned dormitory at Moffett Air ForceBase, watchingonesuch
woman, Shirley Hammond, put her caninenoses throughtheir paces.
Hammond is afixtureonthebase, regularly seenwalkingto and from
her car withapink gymbagand aplasticcooler. If youwereto ask her
what she's got inthere, and shechoseto answer youhonestly, theanswer
would go moreor less likethis: abloody shirt, dirt frombeneatha
decomposed corpse, humantissueburied inachunk of cement, apieceof
clothrubbed oncadavers, ahumanmolar. No synthetics for Shirley's
dogs.
[2] And, alas, most expensiveand least well attended. InMay 2002, ayear
after I visited, it closed its doors.
[3] But by no means thefirst to attempt to keep bodies fromrotting.
Outtakes of theearly days of corporeal preservationincluded a
seventeenth-century Italianphysiciannamed Girolamo Segato, who
devised away of turningbodies into stone, and aLondonM.D. named
Thomas Marshall, who, in1839, published apaper describingan
embalmingtechniquethat entailed generously puncturingthesurfaceof
thebody withscissors and thenbrushingthebody withvinegar, much
theway theAdolph's company would havehousewives prick steaks to
get themeat tenderizer way downin.
[4] Does everythinghaveafather? Apparently so. A websearchon"the
father of" turned up fathers for vasectomy reversal, hillbilly jazz,
lichenology, snowmobiling, modernlibrarianship, Japanesewhiskey,
hypnosis, Pakistan, natural hair careproducts, thelobotomy, women's
boxing, ModernOptionPricingTheory, theswamp buggy, Pennsylvania
ornithology, Wisconsinbluegrass, tornado research, Fen-Phen, modern
dairying, Canada's permissivesociety, black power, and theyellow
schoolbus.
4
DeadManDriving
Humancrashtestdummiesandtheghastlynecessaryscience
of impacttolerance
By and large, thedead aren't very talented. They can't play water polo, or
laceup their boots, or maximizemarket share. They can't tell ajoke, and
they can't dancefor beans. Thereis onethingdead peopleexcel at.
They'revery good at handlingpain.
For instance, UM 006. UM 006is acadaver who recently journeyed across
Detroit fromtheUniversity of Michiganto thebioengineeringbuildingat
WayneStateUniversity. His job, whichhewill undertakeat
approximately 7P.M. tonight, is to behit intheshoulder withalinear
impactor. His collarboneand scapulamaybreak, but hewill not feel a
thing, nor will theinjuries interferewithhis day-to-day activities. By
agreeingto bewalloped intheshoulder, cadaver UM 006is helping
researchers figureout how muchforceahumanshoulder inaside-
impact car crashcanwithstand beforeit registers aserious injury.
Over thepast sixty years, thedead havehelped thelivingwork out
humantolerancelimits for skull slammings and chest skewerings, knee
crammings and gut mashings: all theugly, violent things that happento
ahumanbeinginacar crash. Onceautomobilemanufacturers know how
muchforceaskull or spineor shoulder canwithstand, they candesign
cars that, they hope, will not exceed that forceinacrash.
Youareperhaps wondering, as I did, why they don't usecrashtest
dummies. This is theother sideof theequation. A dummy cantell you
how muchforceacrashis unleashingonvarious dummy body parts, but
without knowinghow muchof ablow areal body part cantake, the
informationis useless. Youfirst need to know, for instance, that the
maximumamount aribcagecancompress without damagingthesoft,
wet things insideit is 2inches. Then, should adummy slaminto a
steeringwheel of anewly designed car and register achest deflectionof
four inches, youknow theNational Highway TrafficSafety
Administration(NHTSA) isn't goingto bevery happy withthat car.
Thedead's first contributionto safedrivingwas thenon-face-gashing
windshield. Thefirst Fords camewithout windshields, whichis why you
seepictures of early motorists wearinggoggles. They weren't tryingto
affect adashingWorld War I flying-acemien; they werekeepingwind
and bugs out of their eyes. Thefirst windscreens weremadeof ordinary
window glass, whichserved to cut thewind and, unfortunately, the
driver's faceintheevent of acrash. Evenwiththeearly laminated-glass
windshields, whichwereinusefromthe1930s to themid-1960s, front-
seat passengers werewalkingaway fromaccidents withgruesome,
gapingscalp-to-chinlacerations. Heads would hit thewindshield, knock
out ahead-shaped holeintheglass, and, ontheir violent, bouncing
returnback throughthat hole, get sliced openonthejagged edges.
Tempered glass, thefollow-up innovation, was strongenoughto keep
heads fromsmashingthrough, but theconcernthenbecamethat striking
thestiffer glass would causebraindamage. (Theless amaterial gives, the
moredamagingtheforces of theimpact: Think icerink versus lawn.)
Neurologists knew that aconcussionfromaforehead impact was
accompanied by somedegreeof skull fracture. Youcan't giveadead man
aconcussion, but youcancheck his skull for hairlinecracks, and this is
what researchers did. At WayneState, cadavers wereleaned forward
over asimulated car window and dropped fromvaryingheights
(simulatingvaryingspeeds) so that their foreheads hit theglass.
(Contrary to popular impression, impact test cadavers werenot typically
ushered into thefront seats of actual runningautomobiles, drivingbeing
oneof theother things cadavers don't do well. Moreoftenthannot, the
cadaver was either dropped or it remained still whilesomesort of
controllableimpactingdevicewas directed at it.) Thestudy showed that
tempered glass, provided it wasn't too thick, was unlikely to createforces
strongenoughto causeconcussion. Windshields today haveevenmore
give, enablingthemodern-day head to undergo a30-mphunbelted car
crashstraight into awall and comeaway withlittleto complainabout
saveawelt and anowner whosedrivingskills areup therewiththe
averagecadaver's.
Despiteforgivingwindshields and knobless, padded dashboards, brain
damageis still themajor culprit incar crashfatalities. Very often, the
bangto thehead isn't all that severe. It's thecombinationof bangingit
into somethingand whippingit inonedirectionand thenrapidly back at
highspeeds (rotation, this is called) that tends to causeserious brain
damage. "If youhit thehead without any rotation, it takes ahugeamount
of forceto knock youout," says WayneStateBioengineeringCenter
director Albert King. "Similarly, if yourotatethehead without hitting
anything, it's hard to causeseveredamage." (High-speed rear-enders
sometimes do this; thebrainis whipped back and forthso fast that shear
forces tear opentheveins onits surface.) "Intherun-of-the-mill crash,
there's someof each, neither of whichis very high, but youcanget a
severehead injury." Thesideways jarringof aside-impact crashis
especially notorious for puttingpassengers incomas.
Kingand someof his colleagues aretryingto get ahandleonwhat,
exactly, is happeningto thebraininthesebanging/whipping-around
scenarios. Across townat Henry Ford Hospital, theteamhas beenfilming
cadavers' heads withahigh-speed X-ray video camera[1] during
simulated crashes, to find out what's goingoninsidetheskull. So far
they'refindingalot more"sloshingof thebrain," as Kingput it, with
morerotationthanwas previously thought to occur. "Thebraintraces out
akind of figureeight," says King. It is somethingbest left to skaters:
Whenbrains do this they get what's called diffuseaxonal injury
potentially fatal tears and leaks inthemicrotubules of thebrain's axons.
Chest injuries aretheother generous contributor to crashfatalities. (This
was trueevenbeforethedawnof theautomobile; thegreat anatomist
Vesalius, in1557, described theburst aortaof amanthrownfromhis
horse.) Inthedays beforeseat belts, thesteeringwheel was themost
lethal iteminacar's interior. Inahead-oncollision, thebody would slide
forward and thechest would slaminto thesteeringwheel, oftenwith
enoughforceto fold therimof thewheel around thecolumn, inthe
manner of aclosingumbrella. "Wehad aguy takeatreehead-onand
therewas theN fromthesteeringwheelthecar was aNashimprinted
inthecenter of his chest," recalls DonHuelke, asafety researcher who
spent theyears from1961through1970visitingthesceneof every car
accident fatality inthecounty surroundingtheUniversity of Michigan
and recordingwhat happened and how.
Steeringwheel columns up throughthesixties werenarrow, sometimes
only sixor seveninches indiameter. Just as aski polewill sink into the
snow without its circular basket, asteeringcolumnwithits rimflattened
back will sink into abody. Inanunfortunatedesigndecision, thesteering
wheel shaft of theaverageautomobilewas angled and positioned to
point straight at thedriver's heart.[2] Inahead-on, you'd beimpaled in
pretty muchthelast placeyou'd want to beimpaled. Evenwhenthe
metal didn't penetratethechest, theimpact alonewas oftenfatal. Despite
its thickness, anaortarupturesrelatively easily. This is becauseevery
other second, it has aone-pound weight suspended fromit: thehuman
heart, filled withblood. Get theweight movingwithenoughforce, as
happened inblunt impacts fromsteeringwheels, and eventhebody's
largest blood vessel can't takethestrain. If youinsist ondrivingaround
invintagecars withno seat belt on, try to timeyour crashes for the
systoleblood-squeezed-outportionof your heartbeat.
Withall this inmind, bioengineers and automobilemanufacturers (GM,
notably) beganusheringcadavers into thedriver's seats of crash
simulators, front halves of cars onmachine-accelerated sleds that are
stopped abruptly to mimictheforces of ahead-oncollision. Thegoal, one
of themanyway, was to designasteeringcolumnthat would collapseon
impact, absorbingenoughof theshock to prevent serious injury to the
heart and its supportingvessels. (Hoods arenow designed to do this too,
so that evencars inrelatively minor accidents havecompletely jackknifed
hoods, theideabeingthat themorethecar crumples, theless youdo.)
GM's first collapsiblesteeringwheel shaft, introduced intheearly 1960s,
cut therisk of deathinahead-oncollisionby half.
And so it went. Thecollectivecadaver rsumboastscontributions to
government legislationfor lap-shoulder belts, air bags, dashboard
padding, and recessed dashboard knobs (autopsy files fromthe1950s
and 1960s containmorethanafew X-ray images of humanheads with
radio knobs embedded inthem). It wasnot pretty work. Incountless
seat-belt studiescar manufacturers, seekingto savemoney, spent years
tryingto provethat seat belts caused moreinjuries thanthey prevented
and thus shouldn't berequiredbodies werestrapped inand crashed,
and their innards werethenprobed for ruptures and manglings. To
establishthetolerancelimits of thehumanface, cadavers havebeen
seated withtheir cheekbones inthefiringlines of "rotary strikers."
They'vehad their lower legs brokenby simulated bumpers and their
upper legs shattered by smashed-indashboards.
It is not pretty, but it is most certainly justifiable. Becauseof changes that
havecomeabout as aresult of cadaver studies, it's now possibleto
surviveahead-oncrashinto awall at 60mph. Ina1995Journal of Trauma
articleentitled "HumanitarianBenefits of Cadaver ResearchonInjury
Prevention," Albert Kingcalculated that vehiclesafety improvements that
havecomeabout as aresult of cadaver researchhavesaved anestimated
8,500lives eachyear since1987. For every cadaver that rodethecrash
sleds to test three-point seat belts, 61lives per year havebeensaved. For
every cadaver that took anair bagintheface, 147peopleper year survive
otherwisefatal head-ons. For every corpsewhosehead has hammered a
windshield, 68lives per year aresaved.
Unfortunately, Kingdid not havethesefigures handy in1978, when
chairmanJohnMoss of theHouseSubcommitteeonOversight and
Investigations called ahearingto investigatetheuseof humancadavers
incar crashtesting. RepresentativeMoss said hefelt a"personal
repugnanceabout this practice." Hesaid that therehad developed within
NHTSA "asort of cult that finds that this is anecessary tool." Hebelieved
that therehad to beanother way to go about it. Hewanted proof that
dead peopleincrashingcars behaveexactly likelivingonesproof that,
as exasperated researchers pointed out, could never beobtained because
it would meansubjectingaseries of livehumans to exactly thesame
high-forceimpacts as aseries of dead humans.
Oddly, RepresentativeMoss was not asqueamishmanwhenit cameto
dead bodies; hehad worked briefly inafuneral parlor beforeheentered
politics. Nor was heanespecially conservativeman. Hewas aDemocrat,
apro-safety reformer. What had got himagitated, said King(who
testified at thehearing), was this: Hehad beenworkingto pass
legislationto makeair bags mandatory and was infuriated by acadaver
test that showed anair bagcausingmoreinjury thanaseat belt. (Air bags
sometimes do injure, evenkill, particularly if thepassenger is leaning
forward or otherwiseOOP"out of position"but inthis case, to befair
to Moss, theair bagbody was older and probably frailer.) Moss was an
oddity: anautomotivesafety lobbier takingastand against cadaver
research.
Intheend, withthesupport of theNational Academy of Sciences, the
GeorgetownCenter for Bioethics, theNational CatholicConference, a
chairmanof anoted medical school's anatomy department who stated
that "suchexperiments areprobably as highly respectful [as medical
school anatomy dissections] and less destructiveto thehumanbody,"
and representatives of theQuaker, Hindu, and Reformed Judaism
religions, thecommitteeconcluded that Moss himself was atad "out of
position." Thereis no better stand-infor alivehumaninacar crashthan
adead one.
Lord knows, thealternatives havebeentried. Inthedawnof impact
science, researchers would experiment onthemselves. Albert King's
predecessor at theBioengineeringCenter, LawrencePatrick, volunteered
himself as ahumancrashtest dummy for years. Hehas riddenthecrash
sled somefour hundred times, and beenslammed inthechest by a
twenty-two-pound metal pendulum. Hehas hurled onekneerepeatedly
against ametal bar outfitted withaload cell. Someof Patrick's students
wereequally courageous, if courageous is theword. A 1965Patrick paper
onkneeimpacts reports that student volunteers seated incrashsleds
endured kneeimpacts equivalent to aforceof onethousand pounds. The
injury threshold was estimated at fourteenhundred pounds. His 1963
study "Facial InjuriesCauseand Prevention" includes aphotographof a
youngmanwho appears to berestingpeacefully withhis eyes shut.
Closer inspectionhints that, infact, somethingnot at all peaceful is about
to unfold. For starters, themanis usingabook entitled HeadInjuriesas a
headrest (uncomfortable, but probably pleasanter thanreadingit).
Hoveringjust abovetheman's cheek is aforbiddingmetal rod identified
inthecaptionas a"gravity impactor." Thetext informs us that "the
volunteer waited several days for theswellingto subsideand thenthe
test was continued up to theenergy limit whichhecould endure." Here
was theproblem. Impact datathat doesn't exceed theinjury threshold is
of minimal use. Youneed thosefolks who don't feel pain. Youneed
cadavers.
Moss wanted to know why animals couldn't beused inautomotive
impact testing, and indeed they havebeen. A descriptionof theEighth
Stapp Car Crashand Field DemonstrationConference, whichappears in
theintroductionto its proceedings, begins likeachild's recollections of a
trip to thecircus: "Wesaw chimpanzees ridingrocket sleds, abear onan
impact swing.Weobserved apig, anaesthetized and placed inasitting
positionontheswingintheharness, crashed into adeep-dished steering
wheel."
Pigs werepopular subjects becauseof their similarities to humans "in
terms of their organsetup," as oneindustry insider put it, and because
they canbecoaxed into auseful approximationof ahumansittingina
car. As far as I cantell, they arealso similar to ahumansittinginacar in
terms of their intelligencesetup, their manners setup, and pretty much
everythingelse, excludingpossibly their useof cupholders and ability to
work theradio buttons, but that is neither herenor there. Inmorerecent
years, animals havetypically beenused only whenfunctioningorgans
areneeded, and cadavers cannot oblige. Baboons, for example, havebeen
subjected to violent sideways head rotations inorder to study why side-
impact crashes so oftensend passengers into comas. (Researchers, in
turn, weresubject to violent animal rights protests.) Livedogs were
recruited to study aorticrupture; for unknownreasons, it has proved
difficult to experimentally ruptureacadaver aorta.
Thereis onetypeof automotiveimpact study inwhichanimals arestill
used eventhoughcadavers would bevastly moreaccurate, and that is
thepediatricimpact study. No child donates his remains to science, and
no researcher wants to bringup body donationwithgrievingparents,
eventhoughtheneed for dataonchildrenand air-baginjuries has been
obvious and dire. "It's areal problem," Albert Kingtold me. "Wetry to
scaleit frombaboons, but thestrengthis all different. And akid's skull is
not completely formed; it changes as it grows." In1993, aresearchteamat
theHeidelbergUniversity School of Medicinehad thecourageto attempt
aseries of impact studies onchildrenand theaudacity to do it without
consent. Thepress got hold of it, theclergy got involved, and thefacility
was shut down.
Child dataaside, theblunt impact tolerancelimits of thehumanbody's
vital pieces havelongago beenworked out, and today's dead arebeing
recruited mainly for impact studies of thebody's outlyingregions: ankles,
knees, feet, shoulders. "Intheold days," Kingtold me, "peopleinvolved
inseverecrashes ended up inthemorgue." No onecares about adead
man's shattered ankle. "Now theseguys aresurvivingbecauseof theair
bag, and wehaveto worry about thesethings. Youhavepeoplewith
bothankles and knees damaged and they will never walk right again. It's
amajor disability now."
Tonight at WayneState's impact lab, acadaver shoulder impact is taking
place, and Kinghas beengracious enoughto invitemeto watch.
Actually, hedidn't inviteme. I asked if I could watch, and heagreed to it.
Still, consideringwhat I'll beseeingand how sensitivethepublicis to
thesethings and further consideringthat Albert Kinghas read my
writingand knows it doesn't exactly read likeTheInternational Journal of
Crashworthiness, hewas pretty darngracious.
WayneStatehas beeninvolved inimpact researchsince1939, longer than
any other university. Onthewall abovethelandingof thefront stairs of
theBioengineeringCenter abanner proclaims: "Celebrating50Years of
MovingForward withImpact." It is 2001, whichsuggests that for twelve
years now, no onehas thought to takedownthebanner, whichyoukind
of expect fromengineers.
Kingis onhis way to theairport, so heleaves mewithfellow
bioengineeringprofessor JohnCavanaugh, who will beoverseeing
tonight's impact. Cavanaughlooks at oncelikeanengineer and ayoung
JonVoight, if that's possible. Hehas alaboratory complexion, paleand
unlined, and regular-lookingbrownhair. Whenhetalks or shifts his
glance, his eyebrows riseand his forehead draws together, givinghima
moreor less permanent look of mild worry. Cavanaughbrings me
downstairs to theimpact lab. It is atypical university lab, withancient,
jerry-rigged equipment and decor that runs to block-lettered safety
reminders. Cavanaughintroduces meto Matt Mason, tonight's research
assistant, and DebMarth, for whosePh.D. dissertationtheimpact is
beingdone, and thenhedisappears upstairs.
I glancearound theroomfor UM 006, theway, as achild, I used to scan
thebasement for thethingthat reaches throughthebanisters to grabyour
legs. Heisn't hereyet. A crashtest dummy sits onasled railing. Its upper
body rests onits thighs, head onknees, as thoughcollapsed indespair. It
has no arms, perhaps thesourceof thedespair.
Matt is linkingup high-speed videocameras to apair of computers and to
thelinear impactor. Theimpactor is aformidably sized pistonfired by
compressed air and mounted onasteel basethesizeof afairground
pony. Fromthehallway, asound of clatteringwheels. "Herehecomes,"
says Deb. UM 006lies onagurney beingwheeled by amuscular man
withgray hair and rambunctious eyebrows, dressed, likeMarth, in
surgical scrubs.
"I amRuhan," says themanbeneaththeeyebrows. "I amthecadaver
man." Heholds out agloved hand. I wave, to show himthat I'mnot
wearinggloves. Ruhancomes fromTurkey, wherehewas adoctor. For a
former doctor whosejobnow entails diaperingand dressingcadavers, he
has anadmirably upbeat disposition. I ask himif it's difficult to dress a
dead man, and how hedoes it. Ruhandescribes theprocess, thenstops.
"Haveyouever beento anursinghome? It's likethat."
UM 006is dressed this eveninginaSmurf-blueleotard and matching
tights. Beneaththetights hewears adiaper, for leakage. Thenecklineof
his leotard iswideand scooped, likeadancer's. Ruhanconfirms that the
cadaver leotards arepurchased fromadancers' supply house. "They
would bedisgusted if they knew!" To ensureanonymity, thedead man's
faceis masked by asnug-fittingwhitecottonhood. Helookslike
someoneabout to robabank, someonewho meant to pull pantyhose
over his head but got it wrongand used anathleticsock.
Matt sets downhis laptop and helps Ruhanlift thecadaver into thecar
seat, whichsits onatablebesidetheimpactor. Ruhanis right. It's
nursing-homework: dressing, lifting, arranging. Thedistancebetween
thevery old, sick, frail personand thedead oneis short, withapoorly
marked border. Themoretimeyouspend withtheinvalid elderly (I have
seenbothmy parents inthis state), themoreyoucometo seeextremeold
ageas agradual easinginto death. Theold and thedyingsleep moreand
more, until oneday they "sleep" all thetime. They oftenbecomemore
and moreimmobileuntil oneday they cando no morethanlieor sit
however thelast personpositioned them. They haveas muchincommon
withUM 006as they do withyouand me.
I find thedead easier to bearound thanthedying. They arenot inpain,
not afraid of death. Thereareno awkward silences and conversations
that dancearound theobvious. They aren't scary. Thehalf hour I spent
withmy mother as adead personwas easier by far thanthemany hours I
spent withher as alivepersondyingand inpain. Not that I wished her
dead. I'mjust sayingit's easier. Cadavers, onceyouget used to them
and youdo that quitefastaresurprisingly easy to bearound.
Whichis good, becauseat themoment, it's just heand I. Matt is inthe
next room, Debhas goneto look for something. UM 006was abig, meaty
man, still is. His tights arelightly stained. His leotard shows up his
lumpy, fallenmidsection. Theagingsuperhero who can't bebothered to
washhis costume. His hands aremittened withthesamecottonas his
head. It was probably doneto depersonalizehim, as is donewiththe
hands of anatomy labcadavers, but for meit has theoppositeeffect. It
makes himseemvulnerableand toddlerlike.
Tenminutes pass. Sharingaroomwithacadaver is only mildly different
frombeinginaroomalone. They arethesamesort of company as people
across fromyouonsubways or inairport lounges, therebut not there.
Your eyes keep goingback to them, for lack of anythingmoreinteresting
to look at, and thenyoufeel bad for staring.
Debis back. Sheis checkingaccelerometers that shehas painstakingly
mounted to exposed areas of thecadaver's bones: onthescapula, clavicle,
vertebrae, sternum, and head. By measuringhow fast thebody
accelerates onimpact, thedevices essentially giveyoutheforceof thehit,
as measured ing's (gravities) . After thetest, Debwill autopsy the
shoulder areaand catalogthedamageat this particular speed. What she
is after is theinjury threshold and theforces needed to generateit; the
informationwill beused to develop shoulder instrumentationfor the
SID, theside-impact dummy.
A side-impact accident is oneinwhichthecars collideat ninety degrees,
bumper to door, thekind that oftentakeplaceat four-way intersections
whenoneparty hasn't bothered to stop at thelight or heed thestop sign.
Lap-shoulder belts and dashboard air bags areengineered to protect
against theforward-heavingforces of ahead-oncrash; they do littlefor a
personinaside-impact crash. Theother thingworkingagainst youin
this typeof crashis theimmediacy of theother car; thereis no engineor
trunk and rear seat to absorbtheblow.[3] Thereareacoupleinches of
metal door. This is also thereasonit took so longfor sideair bags to
beginappearingincars. Withno hood to collapse, thesensors haveto
sensetheimpact immediately, and theold ones weren't up to thetask.
Debknows all about this becausesheworks as adesignengineer at Ford
and was thepersonwho implemented thesideair bags inthe1998Town
Car. Shedoesn't look likeanengineer. Shehas magazine-model skinand
awide, white, radiant smileand thick, shiny brownhair pulled back ina
looseponytail. If JuliaRoberts and SandraBullock had achild together, it
would look likeDebMarth.
Thecadaver beforeUM 006was hit at afaster speed: 15mph(which,
werethis areal side-impact accident withapassenger door to absorb
someof theenergy of theimpact, would translateto beinghit by acar
goingperhaps 25or 30mph). Theimpact brokehis collarboneand
scapulaand fractured fiveribs. Ribs aremoreimportant thanyouthink.
Whenyoubreathe, younot only need to moveyour diaphragmto pull
air into your lungs, youneed themuscles attached to your' ribs and the
ribs themselves. If all your ribs break, your ribcagecan't help inflateyour
lungs theway it's supposed to, and youwill find it very hard to breathe.
It is aconditioncalled "flail chest," and peoplediefromit.
Flail chest is oneof theother things that makesideimpacts especially
dangerous. Ribs areeasier to break fromtheside. Theribcageis built to
becompressed fromthefront, sternumto spinethat's how it moves
whenyoubreathe. (Up to apoint, that is. Compress it too far and you
can, inthewords of DonHuelke, "split theheart completely inhalf as
youwould apear.") A ribcageis not built for thesideways press. Slamit
violently fromtheside, and its tines tend to snap.
Matt is still workingonthesetup. Debis intent onher accelerometers.
Normally, accelerometers arescrewed into place, but if shewereto screw
theminto thebone, thebonewould beweakened and would break more
easily intheimpact. Instead shesecures themto thebonewithwireties
and thenwedges wood scrims underneathto tightenthefit. As she
works, sheslips thewirecutters into and out of thecadaver's mittened
hand, as thoughhewereasurgical nurse. Another way for himto help.
Withtheradio playingand thethreeof us talking, theroomhas afeeling
of late-night congeniality. I find myself thinkingthat it's nicefor UM 006
to havecompany. Therecanbeno lonelier stateof beingthanthat of
beingacorpse. Here, inthelab, he's part of something, part of thegroup,
thecenter of everyone's attention. Of course, thesearestupid thoughts,
for UM 006is amass of tissueand bonewho canno morefeel loneliness
thanhecanfeel Marth's fingers probingtheflesharound his collarbone.
But that's how I feel about it at themoment.
It is past ninenow. UM 006has begunto put out asubtlegamy smell, the
mild but unmistakablefetor of abutcher shop onahot afternoon. "How
long," I ask, "canhestay out at roomtemperaturebeforehestarts to"
Marthwaits for meto finishmy sentence. "change?" Shesays maybe
half aday. Sheis lookingput-upon. Theties aren't tight enoughand the
Krazy Glue's not crazy anymore. It's goingto bealongnight.
JohnCavanaughcalls downthat there's pizzaupstairs, and thethreeof
us, Deb, Matt Mason, and I, leavethedead manby himself. It feels alittle
rude.
Ontheway upstairs, I ask Debhow shewound up workingwithdead
bodies for aliving. "Oh, I always wanted to do cadaver research," she
says, withexactly thesameenthusiasmand sincerity withwhichamore
usual individual would say "I always wanted to beanarchaeologist" or "I
always wanted to liveby thesea."
"Johnwas so psyched. Nobody wants to do cadaver research." Inher
office, shetakes abottleof aperfumecalled Happy fromadesk drawer.
"So I smell somethingelse," sheexplains. Shehas promised to giveme
somepapers, and whileshesearches for themI look at apileof snapshots
onher desk. And then, very quickly, I don't. Thephotographs areclose-
ups fromaprevious cadaver's shoulder autopsy: meaty red and parted
skin. Matt looks downat thepile. "Thesearen't your vacationshots, are
they, Deb?"
By half past eleven, all that remains is to get UM 006into drivingposture.
Heis slumped and leaningto oneside. Heis theguy next to youonthe
plane, asleep and inchingcloser to your shoulder.
JohnCavanaughtakes thecadaver by theankles and pushes back on
him, to try to get himto sit up intheseat. Hesteps back. Thecadaver
slides back toward him. Hepushes himagain. This timeheholds him
whileMatt encircles UM 006's knees and theentirecircumferenceof the
car seat withduct tape. "This probably won't makeit into the'101Uses'
list," observes Matt.
"His head's wrong," says John. "It needs to bestraight ahead." Moreduct
tape. Theradio is playingtheRomantics, "That's What I LikeAbout You."
"He's slumpingagain."
"Try thewinch?" Debloops acanvas strap under his arms and presses a
buttonthat raises aceiling-mounted motor winch. Thecadaver shrugs,
slowly, and holds it, likeaBorscht Belt comedian. Helifts slightly from
his seat, and is lowered back down, sittingstraighter now. "Good,
perfect," says John.
Everyonesteps back. UM 006has acomic's timing. Hewaits abeat, two
beats, thenslips forward again. Youhaveto laugh. Theabsurdity of the
sceneand thepunch-drunk hour aremakingit hard not to. Debgets
somepieces of foamto prop up his back, whichseems to do thetrick.
Matt runs afinal check of theconnections. TheradioI'mnot making
this upis playing"Hit MewithYour Best Shot." Fivemoreminutes
pass. Matt fires thepiston. It sounds aloud bangas it shoots out, though
theimpact itself is silent. UM 006falls over, not likeavillainshot ina
Hollywood movie, but slowly, likeanoff-balancelaundry sack. Hefalls
over onto afoampad that has beenset out for this purpose, and Johnand
Debstep forward to steady him. And that's that. Without thescreechof
skiddingtires and thecrunchand fold of metal, animpact is neither
violent nor disturbing. Distilled to its essence, controlled and planned, it
is now simply science, no longer tragedy.
Thefamily of UM 006does not know what happened to himthis evening.
They know only that hedonated his remains for useinmedical education
or research. Therearemany reasons for this. At thetimeapersonor his
family decides to donatehis remains, no oneknows what thoseremains
will beused for, or evenat whichuniversity. Thebody goes to amorgue
facility at theuniversity to whichit was donated, but may beshipped, as
was UM 006, fromthat school to another.
For afamily to befully informed of what is happeningto their loved one,
theinformationwould haveto comefromtheresearchers themselves,
after they'vetakenreceipt of thebody (or body part) but beforethey run
their test. As aresult of thesubcommitteehearings, that was sometimes
done. Automotiveimpact researchers who received federal NHTSA
fundingand who had not madeit clear intheir willed body consent
forms that theremains might beusedfor researchwererequired to
contact families prior to theexperiment. Accordingto Rolf Eppinger,
chief of theNHTSA Biomechanics ResearchCenter, it was rarefor the
family to renegeonthedeceased's consent.
I spokewithMikeWalsh, who worked for oneof NHTSA's main
contractors, Calspan. It was Walshwho, oncethebody arrived, called the
family to set up ameetingpreferably, owingto thehighly perishable
stateof unembalmed remains, withinaday or two after thedeath. You
would think, as principal investigator onthesestudies, that Walshwould
havedelegated theenormously uncomfortabletask to someoneelse. But
Walshpreferred to do it himself. Hetold thefamilies precisely how their
loved onewould beused and why. "Theentireprogramwas explained to
them. Somestudies weresled impact studies, somewerepedestrian
impact studies,[4] somewereinfull-scalecrashvehicles." Clearly Walsh
has agift. Out of forty-two families contacted, only two revoked
consentnot becauseof thenatureor specifics of thestudy, but because
they had thought thebody was goingto beused for organdonation.
I asked Walshwhether any family members had asked to seeacopy of
thestudy whenit was published. No onehad. "Wegot theimpression,
quitefrankly, that weweregivingpeoplemoreinformationthanthey
wanted to hear."
InEngland and other Commonwealthcountries, researchers and
anatomy instructors sidestep thepossibility of family or public
disapproval by usingbody parts andprosectionsthenamegivento
embalmed cadaver segments used inanatomy labsrather thanwhole
cadavers. England's antivivisectionists, as animal rights activists are
called there, areas outspokenas America's, and thethings that outrage
themaremoreencompassing, and, dareI say it, nonsensical. To giveyou
ataste: In1916, agroup of animal rights activists successfully petitioned
theBritishUndertakers Associationonbehalf of thehorses that pulled
their hearses, urgingmembers to stop makingthehorses wear plumes on
their heads.
TheBritishinvestigators know what butchers havelongknown: If you
want peopleto feel comfortableabout dead bodies, cut theminto pieces.
A cow carcass is upsetting; abrisket is dinner. A humanleghas no face,
no eyes, no hands that onceheld babies or stroked alover's cheek. It's
difficult to associateit withthelivingpersonfromwhichit came. The
anonymity of body parts facilitates thenecessary dissociations of
cadavericresearch: This is not aperson. This is just tissue. It has no
feelings, and no onehas feelings for it. It's okay to do things to it which,
wereit asentient being, would constitutetorture.
But let's berational. Why is it okay for someoneto guideatablesaw
throughGranddad's thighand thenpack up thelegfor shipment to alab,
whereit will besuspended fromahook and impacted withasimulated
car bumper, yet not okay to ship himand usehimwhole? What makes
cuttinghis legoff first any less distasteful or disrespectful? In1901, the
FrenchsurgeonRenLeFort devoted agreat deal of his timeto studying
theeffects of blunt impact onthebones of theface. Sometimes hesevered
theheads: "After decapitation, thehead was violently thrownagainst the
rounded border of amarbletable," reads anexperiment description
fromTheMaxillo-Facial Worksof RenLeFort. Other times heleft theheads
on: "Theentirecadaver was inadorsal positionwiththehead hanging
back over thetable. A violent blow was givenwithawoodenclubonthe
right upper jaw." What personwho takes offenseat thelatter could
reasonably becomfortablewiththeformer? What, ethically or
aesthetically, is thedifference?
Furthermore, it's oftendesirable, fromthestandpoint of biomechanical
fidelity, to usetheentireenchilada. A shoulder mounted onastand and
hit withanimpactor doesn't behaveinthesamemanner, or incur the
sameinjuries, as ashoulder mounted onatorso. Whenshoulders on
stands start gettingdriver's licenses, thenit will makesenseto study
them. Evenscientificinquiries as seemingly straightforward asHowmuch
will ahumanstomachholdbeforeit bursts? havegonetheextramile. In1891,
aninquiringGermandoctor surnamed Key-Abergundertook a
replicationof aFrenchstudy donesixyears earlier, inwhichisolated
humanstomachs werefilled to thepoint of rupture. Key-Aberg's
experiment differed fromthat of his Frenchpredecessor inthat heleft the
stomachs insidetheir owners. Hepresumably felt that this better
approximated therealities of ahearty meal, for rareindeed is thedinner
party attended by freestandingstomachs. To that end, heis said to have
madeapoint of composinghis corpses inthesittingposition. Inthis case,
our man's attentionto biomechanical correctnessproved not to matter. In
bothcases, accordingto a1979articleinTheAmericanJournal of Surgery,
thestomachs gaveout at 4,000cc's, or about four quarts.[5]
Many times, of course, aresearcher doesn't need awholebody, just a
pieceof it. Orthopedicsurgeons developingnew techniques or new
replacement joints uselimbs instead of wholecadavers. Ditto product
safety researchers. Youdo not need anentiredead body to find out, say,
what happens to afinger whenyoucloseaparticular brand of power
window onit. Youneed somefingers. Youdo not need anentirebody to
seewhether softer baseballs causeless damageto LittleLeaguers' eyes.
Youneed someeyes, mounted inclear plasticsimulated eyesockets so
that high-speed video cameras candocument exactly what is happening
whenthebaseballs hit them.[6]
Here's thething: No onereally wantsto work withwholecadavers.
Unless researchers really need to, they won't. Rather thanusewhole
bodies to simulateswimmers inatest of asafety cagefor outboard motor
propellers, Tyler Kress, who runs theSports Biomechanics Labat the
University of Tennessee's EngineeringInstitutefor Traumaand Injury
Prevention, went to thetroubleof trackingdownartificial ball-and-socket
hip joints and gluingthemto cadaver legs withsurgical cement and then
gluingtheresultingcadaver-leg-and-hip-joint hybrid to acrashtest
dummy torso.
Kress says it wasn't fear of publicreprisal that led himto do this, but
practicality. "A leg," hetold me, "is so mucheasier to work withand
handle." Parts areeasier to lift and maneuver. They takeup less spacein
thefreezer. Kress has worked withjust about all of them: heads, spines,
shins, hands, fingers. "Legs, mostly," hesays. Hespent last summer
lookingat thebiomechanics of twisted and brokenankles. This summer
heand his colleagues arerunninginstrumented leg-drop tests to look at
thesorts of injuries that accompany vertical drops, suchas befall
mountainbikers and snowboarders. "I would challengeyouto find
anybody that's brokenmorelegs thanwehave."
I asked Kress, inane-mail exchange, whether hehas had occasionto
wrangleacadavericcrotchinto anathleticcup and takeaimat it with
baseballs, hockey pucks, what-have-you. Hehas not, nor is heawareof
any sports injury researcher who has. "Youwould think that
'racking'i.e., scrotal impactswould beahighresearchpriority," he
wrote. "I'mthinkingno onewants to go thereinthelab."
Whichis not to say that sciencedoes not, occasionally, go there. At the
local medical school library, I ranaPubMed searchfor journal articles
featuringthewords "cadaveric" and "penis." Withthemonitor shoved
back as far as possibleinto thecubicle, lest thepeopleoneither sideof me
seethescreenand alert thelibrarian, I browsed twenty-fiveentries, most
of themanatomical investigations. Thereweretheurologists fromSeattle
investigatingthedistributionpatternof dorsal nerves alongthepenile
shaft (twenty-eight cadaver penises).[7] ThereweretheFrench
anatomists injectingred liquid latexinto penilearteries to study vascular
flow (twenty cadaver penises). ThereweretheBelgians calculating
interferenceof theischiocavernosus muscles inrigidity duringpenile
erection(thirty cadaver penises). For thepast twenty years, all theworld
over, peopleinwhitecoats and squeakingshoes havebeencalmly,
methodically makingthecut that darenot speak its name. It makes Tyler
Kress seemlikeacreampuff.
Ontheother sideof thegender gap, aPubMed searchon"clitoris" and
"cadaver" turned up but asingleentry. Australianurologist Helen
O'Connell, author of "Anatomical Relationship BetweenUrethraand
Clitoris" (tencadaver perinea), bristles at thedisparity: "Modernanatomy
texts," shewrites, "havereduced descriptions of femaleperineal anatomy
to abrief adjunct after acompletedescriptionof themaleanatomy." I
pictureO'Connell as asort of GloriaSteinemof theresearchset, thefast-
moving, can-do feminist inalabcoat. Sheis also thefirst researcher I've
comeacross inmy haphazard wanderings to haveworked withinfant
cadavers. (Shedid this becausethecomparablemaleerectiletissue
researchhad, for reasons not explained, beendoneoninfants.) Her paper
states that sheobtained ethical approval fromtheVictorianInstituteof
ForensicPathology and theBoard of Medical Researchof theRoyal
MelbourneHospital, whichclearly don't go about their business withthe
grimspecter of mediaeviscerationforemost intheir minds.
Footnotes:
[1] Other lively things to do withX-ray video cameras: At Cornell
University, biomechanics researcher DianeKelley has filmed labrats
matinginX-ray, inorder to shed light onthepossibleroleof thepenis
bone. Humans do not havepenis bones, nor havethey, to theauthor's
knowledge, beencaptured havingsexonX-ray videotape. They have,
however, beenfilmed havingsexinsideanMRI tube, by fun-loving
physiologists at theUniversity Hospital inGroningen, Netherlands. The
researchers concluded that duringintercourseinthemissionary position,
thepenis "has theshapeof aboomerang."
[2] Fromasafety standpoint, it would havebeenbetter to skip steering
wheels entirely and install apair of rudderlikehandles oneither sideof
thedriver's seat, as was doneinthe"Survival Car," atravelingdemo car
built by theLiberty Mutual InsuranceCompany intheearly 1960s to
show theworld how to build cars that savelives (and reduceinsurance
company payouts). Other visionary designelements included arear-
facingfront passenger seat, afeatureabout as likely to sell cars as, well,
steeringrudders. Safety did not sell automobiles inthesixties, styledid,
and theSurvival Car failed to changetheworld.
[3] This is why youshouldn't worry all that muchabout sittinginthe
middleseat, without ashoulder belt. If thecar gets hit fromtheside,
you'rebetter off beingfarther fromthedoors. Thekindly peoplebeside
you, theones withtheshoulder belts, will absorbtheimpact for you.
[4] To quoteaStapp Car CrashConferencestudy onthetopic,
"Pedestrians arenot 'runover' by cars. They are'rununder.' " It typically
goes likethis: Bumper hits calf and front of hood hits hip, knockingthe
legs out fromunder and flippingthemup over thehead. The
cartwheelingpedestrianthenlands onhis head or chest onthehood or
windshield. Dependingonthespeed of theimpact, hemay continue
cartwheeling, legs over head again, and land flat ontheroof, and from
thereslideoff onto thepavement. Or hemay remainonthehood, with
his head smashed throughthewindshield. Whereuponthedriver calls an
ambulance, unless thedriver is someonelikeFort Worthnurse's aide
ChanteMallard, inwhichcaseshekeeps ondriving, returns to her house,
and allegedly leaves thecar inthegaragewiththevictimstickingout of
her windshield until hebleeds to death. This event took placeinOctober
2001. Mallard was arrested and charged withmurder.
[5] As fans of theeatingsections of old Guinness books of world records
will surmise, this figurehas beensurpassed onnumerous occasions.
Somestomachs, by way of heredity or prolonged daily gourmandism, are
roomier thanaverage. OrsonWelles's was onesuchstomach. According
to theowners of Pink's hot dogstand inL.A., thevoluminous director
oncesat downand finished off eighteenfranks.
Theall-timerecord holder would appear to beatwenty-three-year-old
Londonfashionmodel whosecasewas described intheApril 1985Lancet.
At what turned out to beher last meal, theyoungwomanmanaged to
put away nineteenpounds of food: onepound of liver, two pounds of
kidney, ahalf pound of steak, onepound of cheese, two eggs, two thick
slices of bread, onecauliflower, tenpeaches, four pears, two apples, four
bananas, two pounds eachof plums, carrots, and grapes, and two glasses
of milk. Whereuponher stomachblew and shedied. (Thehuman
gastrointestinal tract is hometo trillions of bacteria, which, should they
escapetheconfines of their stinky, labyrinthinehome, createamassive
and oftenfatal systemicinfection.)
Runner-up goes to athirty-one-year-old Floridapsychologist who was
found collapsed inher kitchen. TheDadeCounty medical examiner's
report itemized thefatal last meal: "8700ccof poorly masticated,
undigested hot dogs, broccoli and cereal suspended inagreenliquid that
contained numerous small bubbles." Thegreenliquid remains amystery,
as does theapparent widespread appeal of hot dogs amongmodern-day
gorgers (fromSalon.com).
[6] This was asubject of heated debateinophthalmology corners. Some
felt that if youmadebaseballs softer, they would deformonimpact and
penetratemoredeeply into thesocket, causingmoredamage, not less. A
study doneby researchers at theVisionPerformanceand Safety Service
at Tufts University School of Medicineshowed that softer balls did
indeed penetratemoredeeply, but they didn't causemoredamage. That
would havebeentoughto do, for theharder balls ruptured theeye"from
thelimbus to theopticnervewithalmost total extrusionof the
intraocular contents." Let us hopethat themanufacturers of amateur
sports equipment haveread theMarch1999Archivesof Ophthalmology
and adjusted thehardness of their baseballs accordingly. Either way, eye
protectionfor LittleLeaguers is aswell idea.
[7] This was ajoint effort involvingthelivingand thedead, withthedead
gettingtheshorter end of thestick: Followingdissections of thedead
penises, "10healthy males" agreed to help confirmthefindings by
undergoingelectrical stimulationof thedorsal nerve, as healthy males
arewont to agreeto.
5
BeyondtheBlack Box
Whenthebodiesof thepassengersmusttell thestoryof acrash
Dennis Shanahanworks inaroomy suiteonthesecond floor of thehouse
heshares withhis wife, Maureen, inasubdivisiontenminutes east of
downtownCarlsbad, California. Theofficeis quiet and sunny and offers
no hint of thegrisly natureof thework donewithin. Shanahanis an
injury analyst. Muchof thetime, heanalyzes thewounds and breakages
of theliving. Heconsults for car companies beingsued by peoplemaking
dubious claims ("theseat belt broke." "I wasn't driving," and so on) that
areeasily debunked by lookingat their injuries. Every now and thenthe
bodies hestudies aredead ones. Suchwas thecasewithTWA Flight 800.
Bound for Paris fromJFK International Airport onJuly 17, 1996, Flight
800blew apart intheair over theAtlanticoff East Moriches, New York.
Witness reports werecontradictory. Someclaimed to haveseenamissile
striketheaircraft. Traces of explosives had turned up intherecovered
wreckage, but no traceof bombhardwarehad beenfound. (Later it
would comeout that theexplosivematerials had beenplanted inthe
planelongbeforethecrash, as part of asniffer-dogtrainingexercise.)
Conspiracy theories sprouted and spread. Theinvestigationdragged on
without adefinitiveanswer to thequestiononeveryone's mind: What
or whohad brought Flight 800downfromthesky?
Withindays of thecrash, Shanahanflew to New York to visit thebodies
of thedead and seewhat they had to say. Last spring, I flew to Carlsbad,
California, to visit Shanahan. I wanted to know howscientifically and
emotionallyapersondoes this job.
I had other questions for himtoo. Shanahanis amanwho knows the
reality behind thenightmare. Heknows, ingrimmedical detail, exactly
what happens to peopleindifferent types of crashes. Heknows how they
typically die, whether they'relikely to havebeencognizant of what was
happening, and howinalow-altitudecrash, anywaythey might have
increased their chances of survival. I told himI would only takeup an
hour of his time, but stayed for five.
A crashed planewill usually tell its ownstory. Sometimes literally, inthe
voices onthecockpit flight recorder; sometimes by implication, inthe
rendings and charrings of thefallencraft. But whenaplanegoes down
over theocean, its story may bepatchy and incoherent. If thewater is
especially deep or thecurrents swift and chaotic, theblack boxmay not
berecovered, nor may enoughof thesunkenwreckageberecovered to
determinefor surewhat occurred intheplane's last minutes. Whenthis
happens, investigators turnto what is knowninaviationpathology
textbooks as "thehumanwreckage": thebodies of passengers. For unlike
awingor apieceof fuselage, acorpsewill float to thewater's surface. By
studyingvictims' woundsthetype, theseverity, whichsideof thebody
they'reonaninjury analyst canbeginto piecetogether thehorrible
unfoldingof events.
Shanahanis waitingfor mewhenI arriveat theairport. Heis wearing
Dockers, ashort-sleeved shirt, and aviator-frameglasses. His hair lies
neatly oneither sideof aperfectly straight part. It could almost bea
toupee, but isn't. Heis polite, composed, and immediately likable. He
reminds meof my pharmacist Mike.
Heisn't at all what I'd had inmind. I had imagined someonegruff,
morgue-hardened, proneto expletives. I had planned to do my interview
inthefield, intheaftermathof acrash. I pictured thetwo of us ina
makeshift morgueinsomesmall-towndancehall or high-school gym, he
inhis stained labcoat, mewithmy notepad. This was beforeI realized
that Shanahanhimself does not do theautopsies for thecrashes he
investigates. Thesearedoneby teams of medical examiners fromnearby
county morgues. Thoughhegoes to thesiteand will oftenexamine
bodies for onereasonor another, Shanahanworks mostly withthe
autopsy reports, correlatingthesewiththeflight's seatingchart to
identify clusters of telltaleinjuries. Heexplained that visitinghimat
work onacrashsitemight haverequired await of several years, for the
causeof most crashes isn't amystery, and thus input fromthecadavers
isn't oftencalled for.
WhenI tell himI was disappointed over not beingableto report fromthe
sceneof acrash, Shanahanhands meabook called AerospacePathology,
which, heassures me, contains photographs of thesorts of things I might
haveseen. I openthevolumeto asectionon"body plotting." Amongline
sketches of downed planepieces, small black dots arescattered. Leader
lines spokeaway fromthedots to their labels: "brownleather shoes,"
"copilot," "pieceof spine," "stewardess." By thetimeI get to thechapter
that describes Shanahan's work"Patterns of Injury inFatal Aircraft
Accidents," whereinphoto captions remind investigators to keep inmind
things like"intenseheat may produceintracranial steamresultingin
blowout of thecranial vault, simulatinginjuries fromimpact"it has
becomeclear to methat labeled black dots areas up-close-and-personal
as I wishto get to thehumanwreckageof aplanecrash.
Inthecaseof TWA Flight 800, Shanahanwas onthetrail of abomb. He
was analyzingthevictims' injuries for evidenceof anexplosioninthe
cabin. If hefound it, hewould thentry to pinpoint whereontheplane
thebombhad been. Hetakes athick folder fromafilecabinet drawer and
pulls out his team's report. Hereis thechaos and goreof amajor
passenger airlinecrashquantified and outlined, withfigures and charts
and bar graphs, transformed fromhorror into somethingthat canbe
discussed over coffeeinaNational TransportationSafety Board morning
meeting. "4.19: Injury PredominanceRight vs. Left withFloatingVictims,
" "4.28: Mid-Shaft Femur Fractures and Forward Horizontal Seat Frame
Damage." I ask Shanahanwhether thestatistics and thedispassionate
prosehelped himmaintainwhat I imagineto beanecessary emotional
removefromthehumantragedy behind theinquiry. Helooks downat
his hands, whichrest, fingers interlinked, ontheFlight 800folder.
"Maureenwill tell youI coped variably withFlight 800. It was
emotionally very traumatic, particularly withthenumber of teenagers on
board. A highschool Frenchclubgoingto Paris. Youngcouples. Wewere
all pretty grim." Shanahansays this isn't typical of themood behind the
scenes at acrashsite. "Youwant avery superficial involvement, so jokes
and lightheartedness tend to befairly common. Not this time."
For Shanahan, thehardest thingabout Flight 800was that most of the
bodies wererelatively whole. "Intactness bothers memuchmorethanthe
lack of it," hesays. Thesorts of things most of us can't imagineseeingor
copingwithsevered hands, legs, scraps of fleshShanahanis more
comfortablewith. "That way, it's just tissue. Youcanput yourself inthat
frameof mind and get onwithyour job." It's gory, but not sad. Goreyou
get used to. Shattered lives youdon't. Shanahandoes what the
pathologists do. "They focus ontheparts, not theperson. Duringthe
autopsy, they'll bedescribingtheeyes, thenthemouth. Youdon't stand
back and say, 'This is apersonwho is thefather of four.' It's theonly way
youcanemotionally survive."
Ironically, intactness is oneof themost useful clues indetermining
whether abombhas goneoff. Weareonpage16of thereport, Heading
4.7: Body Fragmentation. "Peoplevery closeto anexplosioncomeapart,"
Shanahansays to mequietly. Dennis has away of talkingabout these
things that seems neither patronizingly euphemisticnor offensively
graphic. Had therebeenabombinthecabinof Flight 800, Shanahan
would havefound acluster of "highly fragmented bodies" corresponding
to theseats nearest theexplosion. Infact, most of thebodies were
primarily intact, afact quickly gleaned by notingtheir body
fragmentationcode. To simplify thework of peoplelikeShanahanwho
must analyzelargenumbers of reports, medical examiners oftenusecolor
codes. OnFlight 800, for instance, peopleended up either Green(body
intact), Yellow (crushed head or theloss of oneextremity), Blue(loss of 2
extremities withor without crushed head), or Red (loss of 3or more
extremities or completetransectionof body).
Another way thedead canhelp determinewhether abombwent off is
throughthenumbers and trajectories of the"foreignbodies" embedded
withinthem. Theseshow up onX-rays, whichareroutinely takenas part
of eachcrashautopsy. Bombs launchshards of themselves and of nearby
objects into peopleseated closeby; thepatterns withineachbody and
amongthebodies overall canshed light onwhether abombwent off and
where. If abombwent off inastarboard bathroom, for instance, the
peoplewhoseseats faced it would carry fragments that entered thefronts
of their bodies. Peopleacross theaislefromit would display these
injuries ontheir right sides. As Shanahanhad expected, no telltale
patterns emerged.
Shanahanturned next to thechemical burns found onsomeof thebodies.
Theseburns had begunto fuel speculationthat amissilehad torn
throughthecabin. It's truethat chemical burns inacrashareusually
caused by contact withhighly causticfuel, but Shanahansuspected that
theburns had happened after theplanehit thewater. Spilled jet fuel on
thesurfaceof thewater will burnafloatingbody onits back, but not on
its front. Shanahanchecked to besurethat all the"floaters"people
recovered fromthewater's surfaceweretheones withthechemical
burns, and that theseburns wereontheir backs. And they were. Had a
missileblasted throughthecabin, thefuel burns would havebeenon
people's fronts or sides, dependingonwherethey had beenseated, but
not their backs, as theseatbacks would haveprotected them. No evidence
of amissile.
Shanahanalso looked at thermal burns, thekind caused by fire. Here
therewas apattern. By lookingat theorientationof theburnsmost
wereonthefront of thebodyhewas ableto tracethepathof afirethat
had swept throughthecabin. Next helooked at dataonhow badly these
passengers' seats had beenburned. That their chairs werefar more
severely burned thanthey themselves weretold himthat peoplehad
beenthrownfromtheir seats and clear of theplanewithinseconds after
thefirebrokeout. Authorities had begunto suspect that awingfuel tank
had exploded. Theblast was far enoughaway frompassengers that they
had remained intact, but serious enoughto damagethebody of theplane
to thepoint that it brokeapart and thepassengers werethrownclear.
I ask Shanahanwhy thebodies would bethrownfromtheplaneif they
werewearingseat belts. Onceaplanestarts breakingup, hereplies,
enormous forces comeinto play. Unlikethesplit-second forces of abomb,
they won't typically rip abody apart, but they arepowerful enoughto
wrenchpassengers fromtheir seats. "This is aplanethat's travelingat
threehundred miles per hour," Shanahansays. "Whenit breaks up, it
loses its aerodynamiccapability. Theengines arestill providingthrust,
but now theplane's not stable. It's goingto begoingthroughhorrible
gyrations. Fractures propagateand withinfiveor sixseconds this plane's
inchunks. My theory is that theplanewas breakingup pretty rapidly,
and seatbacks werecollapsingand peoplewereslippingout of their
restraint systems."
TheFlight 800injuries fit Dennis's theory: Peopletended to havethesort
of massiveinternal traumathat onetypically sees fromwhat they call in
Shanahan's world "extremewater impact." A fallinghumanstops short
whenit hits thesurfaceof thewater, but its organs keep travelingfor a
fractionof asecond longer, until they hit thewall of thebody cavity,
whichby that point has started to rebound. Theaortaoftenruptures
becausepart of it is fixed to thebody cavityand thus stops at thesame
timewhiletheother part, thepart closest to theheart, hangs freeand
stops slightly later; thetwo parts wind up travelinginoppositedirections
and theresultant shear forces causethevessel to snap. Seventy-three
percent of Flight 800's passengers had serious aortictears.
Theother thingthat reliably happens whenabody hits water after along
fall is that theribs break. This fact has beendocumented by former Civil
Aeromedical Instituteresearchers Richard Snyder and ClydeSnow. In
1968, Snyder looked at autopsy reports from169peoplewho had jumped
off theGoldenGateBridge. Eighty-fivepercent had brokenribs, whereas
only 15percent emerged withfractured vertebraeand only athird with
armor legfractures. Brokenribs areminor inand of themselves, but
duringhigh-velocity impacts they becomesharp, jagged weapons that
pierceand slicewhat lies withinthem: heart, lungs, aorta. In76percent of
thecases Snyder and Snow looked at, theribs had punctured thelungs.
Statistics fromFlight 800sketched asimilar scenario: Most of thebodies
displayed thetelltaleinternal injuries of extremewater impact. All had
blunt chest injuries, 99percent had multiplebrokenribs, 88percent had
lacerated lungs, and 73percent had injured aortas.
If abrutal impact against thewater's surfacewas what killedmost
passengers, does that meanthey werealiveand awareof their
circumstances duringthethree-minutedrop to thesea? Alive, perhaps.
"If youdefinealiveas heart pumpingand thembreathing," says
Shanahan, "theremight havebeenasignificant number." Aware? Dennis
doesn't think so. "I think it's very remote. Theseats and thepassengers
arebeingtossed around. You'd just get overwhelmed." Shanahanhas
madeapoint of askingthehundreds of planeand car crashsurvivors he
interviews what they felt and observed duringtheir accident. "I'vecome
to thegeneral conclusionthat they don't haveawholelot of awareness
that they'vebeenseverely traumatized. I find themvery detached.
They'reawareof alot of things goingon, but they giveyouthis kind of
ethereal response'I knew what was goingon, but I didn't really know
what was goingon. I didn't particularly feel likeI was apart of it, but on
theother hand I knew I was apart of it.' "
Giventhat so many Flight 800passengers werethrownclear of theplane
as it brokeapart, I wondered whether they stood achancehowever
slimof surviving. If youhit thewater likeanOlympicdiver, might it be
possibleto surviveafall fromahigh-flyingplane? It has happened at
least once. In1963, our manof thelong-distanceplummet, Richard
Snyder, turned his attentionto peoplewho had survived falls from
normally fatal heights. In"HumanSurvivability of ExtremeImpacts in
Free-Fall," hereports thecaseof amanwho fell sevenmiles froman
airplaneand survived, albeit for only half aday. And this poor sap didn't
havetherelativeluxury of awater landing. Hehit ground. (Fromthat
height, infact, thereis littledifference.) What Snyder found is that a
person's speed at impact doesn't dependably predict theseverity of his or
her injuries. Hespokewithelopingbridegrooms who sustained more
debilitatinginjuries fallingoff their ladders thandid asuicidal thirty-six-
year-old who dropped seventy-onefeet onto concrete. Thelatter walked
away needingnothingmorethanBand-Aids and atherapist.
Generally speaking, peoplefallingfromplanes havebooked their final
flight. Accordingto Snyder's paper, themaximumspeed at whicha
humanbeinghas arespectableshot at survivingafeet-firstthat's the
safest positionfall into water is about 70mph. Giventhat theterminal
velocity of afallingbody is 120mph, and that it takes only fivehundred
feet to reachthat speed, youareprobably not goingto fall fivemiles from
anexplodingplaneand liveto beinterviewed by Dennis Shanahan.
Was Shanahanright about Flight 800? Hewas. Over time, critical pieces
of theplanewererecovered, and thewreckagesupported his findings.
Thefinal determination: Sparks fromfrayed wiringhad ignited fuel
vapors, causinganexplosionof oneof thefuel tanks.
Theunjolly scienceof injury analysis got its start in1954, theyear two
BritishComet airliners mysteriously dropped fromthesky into thesea.
Thefirst planevanished inJanuary, over Elba, thesecond off Naples
threemonths later. Inbothcrashes, owingto thedepthof thewater,
authorities wereunableto recover muchof thewreckageand so turned
for clues to the"medical evidence": theinjuries of thetwenty-one
passengers recovered fromthesurfaceof thesea.
Theinvestigationwas carried out at Britain's Royal Air ForceInstituteof
AviationMedicineinFarnborough, by theorganization's group captain,
W K. Stewart, inconjunctionwithoneSir Harold E. Whittingham,
director of medical services for theBritishOverseas Airways
Corporation. As Sir Harold held themost degreesfivearelisted onthe
published paper, not countingtheknighthoodI will, out of respect,
assumehimto havebeentheteamleader.
Sir Harold and his teamwereimmediately struck by theuniformity of
thecorpses' injuries. All twenty-onecadavers showed relatively few
external wounds and quitesevereinternal injuries, particularly to the
lungs. Threeconditions wereknownto causelunginjuries suchas those
found intheComet bodies: bombblast, suddendecompressionas
happens whenpressurizationof anairplanecabinfailsand afall from
extremeheights. Any oneof them, inacrashlikethese, was apossibility.
So far, thedead weren't doingmuchto clear up themystery.
Thebombpossibility was thefirst to beruled out. Noneof thebodies
wereburned, nonehad beenpenetrated withbomb-generated shrapnel,
and nonehad been, as Dennis Shanahanwould put it, highly fragmented.
Theinsane, grudge-bearing, explosives-savvy former Comet employee
theory quickly bit thedust.
Next theteamconsidered suddendepressurizationof thepassenger
cabin. Could this possibly causesuchseverelungdamage? To find out,
theFarnboroughteamrecruited agroup of guineapigs and exposed
themto asuddensimulated pressuredropfromsealevel to 35,000feet.
To quoteSir Harold, "Theguineapigs appeared mildly startled by the
experiencebut showed no signs of respiratory distress." Datafromother
facilities, based onbothanimal experimentationand humanexperiences,
showed similarly few deleterious effectscertainly not thekind of
damageseeninthelungs of theComet passengers.
This left our friend "extremewater impact" as thelikely causeof death,
and ahigh-altitudecabinbreakup, presumably fromsomestructural
flaw, as thelikely causeof thecrash. As Richard Snyder wouldn't write
"Fatal Injuries ResultingfromExtremeWater Impact" for another
fourteenyears, theFarnboroughteamturned onceagainto guineapigs.
Sir Harold wanted to find out exactly what happens to lungs that hit
water at terminal velocity. WhenI first saw mentionof theanimals, I
pictured Sir Harold trekkingto thecliffs of Dover, rodent cages intow,
and hurlingtheunsuspectingcreatures into theseas below, wherehis
companions awaited inrowboats withnets. But Sir Harold had more
sensethanI; heand his mendevised a"vertical catapult" to achievethe
necessary forces inafar shorter distance. "Theguineapigs," hewrote,
"werelightly secured by strips of adhesivepaper to theunder surfaceof
thecarrier so that, whenthelatter was arrested to thelower limit of its
excursion, theguineapigwas projected belly first, about 2feet through
theair beforehittingthewater." I know just thesort of littleboy Sir
Harold was.
To makealongstory short, thecatapulted guineapigs' lungs looked alot
liketheComet passengers' lungs. Theresearchers concluded that the
planes had brokenapart at altitude, spillingmost of their humancontents
into thesea. To figureout exactly wherethefuselagehad brokenapart,
they looked at whether thepassengers had beenclothed or naked when
pulled fromthesea. Sir Harold's theory was that hittingtheseafroma
height of several miles would knock one's clothes off, but that hittingthe
seainsidethelargely intact tail of theplanewould not, and that they
could thereforesurmisethepoint of breakup as thedividinglinebetween
clothed and naked cadavers. For inbothflights, it was thepassengers
determined (by checkingtheseatingchart) to havebeenintheback of the
planewho wound up floatingintheir clothes, whilepassengers seated
forward of acertainpoint werefound floatingnaked, or practically so.
To provehis theory, Sir Harold lacked onekey pieceof data: Was it
indeed truethat hittingtheseaafter fallingfromanairplanewould serve
to knock one's clothes off? Ever thepioneer, Sir Harold undertook the
study himself. ThoughI would likenothingbetter thanto beableto
relateto youthedetails of another Farnboroughguineapigstudy, this
onefeaturingthelittlerodents outfitted intiny worsted suits and 1950s
dresses, inpoint of fact no guineapigs wereused. TheRoyal Aircraft
Establishment was enlisted to pilot agroup of fully clothed dummies to
cruisingaltitudeand drop theminto thesea.[1] As Sir Harold had
expected, their clothes wereindeed blownoff onimpact, aphenomenon
verified by MarinCounty coroner Gary Erickson, themanwho autopsies
thebodies of GoldenGateBridgesuicides: Evenafter fallingjust 250feet,
hetold me, "typically theshoes get blownoff, thecrotchgets blownout
of thepants, oneor bothof therear pockets aregone."
Intheend, enoughof theComet wreckagewas recovered toverify Sir
Harold's theories. A structural failurehad indeed caused bothplanes to
break apart inmidair. Hats off to Sir Harold and theguineapigs of
Farnborough.
Dennis and I areeatinganearly lunchat anItalianrestaurant near the
beach. Wearetheonly customers, and it's way too quiet for the
conversationgoingonat our table. Whenever thewaiter appears to refill
our water glasses, I pause, as thoughwewerediscussingsomethingtop
secret or desperately personal. Shanahanseems not to care. Thewaiter
will begrindingpepper onmy salad for what seems likeaweek, and
Dennis is going,"used ascallop trawler to recover someof thesmaller
remains"
I ask Dennis how, knowingwhat heknows and seeingwhat hesees, he
ever manages to board aplane. Hepoints out that most crashing
airplanes don't hit theground fromthirty thousand feet. Thevast
majority crashontakeoff or landing, either onor near theground.
Shanahansays 80to 85percent of planecrashes arepotentially
survivable.
Thekey word hereis "potentially." Meaningthat if everythinggoes the
way it went intheFAA-required cabinevacuationsimulation, you'll
survive. Federal regulations requireairplanemanufacturers to beableto
evacuateall passengers throughhalf of aplane's emergency exits within
ninety seconds. Alas, inreality, evacuations rarely happentheway they
do insimulations. "If youlook at survivablecrashes, it's rarethat even
half theemergency exits open," says Shanahan. "Plus, there's alot of
panicand confusion." Shanahancites theexampleof aDeltacrashin
Dallas. "It should havebeenvery survivable. Therewerevery few
traumaticinjuries. But alot of peoplewerekilled by thefire. They found
themstacked up at theemergency exits. Couldn't get themopen." Fireis
thenumber onekiller inairplanemishaps. It doesn't takemuchof an
impact to explodeafuel tank and set aplaneonfire. Passengers diefrom
inhalingsearing-hot air and fromtoxicfumes released by burning
upholstery or insulation. They diebecausetheir legs arebrokenfrom
slamminginto theseat infront of themand they can't crawl to theexits.
They diebecausepassengers don't exit flamingplanes inanorderly
manner; they stampedeand elbow and trample.[2]
Could airlines do abetter jobof makingtheir planes fire-safe? Youbet
they could. They could install moreemergency exits, but they won't,
becausethat means takingout seats and losingrevenue. They could
install sprinkler systems or build crash-worthy fuel systems of thetype
used onmilitary helicopters. But they won't, becauseboththeseoptions
would add too muchweight. Moreweight means higher fuel costs.
Who decides whenit's okay to sacrificehumanlives to savemoney?
Ostensibly, theFederal AviationAdministration. Theproblemis that
most airlinesafety improvements areassessed fromacost-benefit
viewpoint. To quantify the"benefit" sideof theequation, adollar amount
is assigned to eachsaved humanlife. As calculated by theUrbanInstitute
in1991, youareworth$2.7million. "That's theeconomicvalueof thecost
of somebody dyingand theeffects it has onsociety," said VanGoudy, the
FAA manI spokewith. Whilethis is considerably morethantheresale
valueof theraw materials, thefigureinthebenefits columnis rarely
largeenoughto surpass theairlines' projected costs. Goudy used the
exampleof shoulder harnesses, whichI had asked himabout. "The
agency would say, 'All right, if you'regoingto savefifteenlives over the
next twenty years by puttinginshoulder straps, that's fifteentimes two
milliondollars; that's thirty million.' Theindustry comes back and says,
'It's gonnacost us sixhundred and sixty-ninemillionto put thethings in.'
" So long, shoulder straps.
Why doesn't theFAA thencomeback and say, "Toughtiddlywinks.
You'reputtingtheminanyway"? For thesamereasonit took fifteenyears
for thegovernment to beginrequiringair bags incars. Theregulatory
agencies haveno teeth. "If theFAA wants to promulgatearegulation,
they haveto providetheindustry withacost-benefit analysis and send it
out for comment," says Shanahan. "If theindustry doesn't likewhat they
see, they go to their congressmen. If you'reBoeing, youhavea
tremendous influenceinCongress."[3]
To theFAA's credit, theagency recently approved anew "inerting"
systemthat pumps nitrogen-enriched air into fuel tanks, reducingthe
levels of highly flammableoxygenand thelikelihood of anexplosion
suchas theonethat brought downFlight 800.
I ask Dennis whether hehas any advicefor thepeoplewho'll read this
book and never againboard aplanewithout wonderingif they'regoing
to wind up inaheap of bodies at theemergency exit door. Hesays it's
mostly commonsense. Sit near anemergency exit. Get downlow, below
theheat and smoke. Hold your breathas longas youcan, so youdon't
cook your lungs and inhalepoisonous fumes. Shanahanprefers window
seats becausepeopleseated ontheaislearemorelikely to get beaned
withthesuitcases that cancomecrashingthroughtheoverhead bindoors
inevenafairly mild impact.
As wewait for thebill, I ask Shanahanthequestionhegets asked at
every cocktail party he's beento inthepast twenty years: Areyour
chances of survivingacrashbetter near thefront of theplaneor theback?
"That depends," hesays patiently, "onwhat kind of crashit's goingto be."
I rephrasethequestion. Givenhis choiceof anywhereontheplane,
wheredoes heprefer to sit?
"First class."
Footnotes:
[1] Youareperhaps wondering, as I did, whether cadavers wereever
used to document theeffects of accidental freefalls onhumans. The
closest I cameto apaper likethis was J. C. Earley's "Body Terminal
Velocity," dated 1964, and J. S. Cotner's "Analysis of Air Resistance
Effects ontheVelocity of FallingHumanBodies," from1962, both, alas,
unpublished. I do know that whenJ. C. Earley used dummies inastudy,
heused "Dummies" inthetitle, andso I suspect that afew donated
corpses did indeed maketheplungefor science.
[2] Hereis thesecret to survivingoneof thesecrashes: Bemale. Ina1970
Civil Aeromedical Institutestudy of threecrashes involvingemergency
evacuations, themost prominent factor influencingsurvival was gender
(followed closely by proximity to exit). Adult males wereby far themost
likely to get out alive. Why? Presumably becausethey pushed everyone
elseout of theway.
[3] This is no doubt why planes today arenot equipped withair bags.
Believeit or not, someoneactually designed anairplaneair-bagsystem,
called theAirstop Restraint System, whichcombined underfoot,
underseat, and chest air bags. TheFAA eventested thesystemon
dummies onaDC-7that it crashed into ahill outsideof Phoenix,
Arizona, in1964. Whileacontrol dummy inalap belt fastened low and
tight about it jackknifed violently and lost its head, theAirstop-protected
dummy fared just fine. Thedesigners wereinspired by stories of World
War II fighter pilots who would inflatetheir lifevests just beforeacrash.
6
TheCadaverWhoJoinedtheArmy
Thestickyethicsof bulletsandbombs
For threedays inJanuary of 1893and againfor four days inMarch,
CaptainLouis LaGardeof theU.S. Army Medical Corps took up arms
against agroup of extraordinary foes. It was anunprecedented military
undertaking, and onefor whichhewould forever after beremembered.
ThoughLaGardeserved as asurgeon, hewas no stranger to armed
combat. InthePowder River Expeditionof 1876, hehad beendecorated
for gallantry inconfrontingtribes of hostileSioux. LaGardehad led the
chargeagainst Chief Dull Knife, whosename, wecanonly assume, was
no reflectiononhis intellectual and military acumenor thequality and
upkeep of his armaments.
LaGardereceived his strangeand fateful orders inJuly of 1892. He
would bereceiving, theletter said, anew, experimental .30-caliber
Springfield rifle. Hewas to takethis rifle, alongwithhis standard-issue
.45-caliber Springfield, and report to Frankford Arsenal, Pennsylvania,
thefollowingwinter. Takingshapeintherifles' sights would bemen, a
series of them, naked and unarmed. That they werenaked and unarmed
was theless distinctivethingabout them. Moredistinctivewas that they
werealready dead. They had died of natural causes and had been
collectedfromwhereis not revealedas subjects inanArmy Ordnance
Department experiment. They wereto besuspended fromatackleinthe
ceilingof thefiringrange, shot at inadozenplaces and withadozen
different charges (to simulatedifferent distances), and autopsied. La
Garde's missionwas to comparethephysiological effects of thetwo
different weapons uponthehumanbody's bones and innards.
TheUnited States Army was by no means thefirst to sanctionthe
experimental pluggingof civiliancadavers. TheFrencharmy, wroteLa
Gardeinhis bookGunshot Injuries, had been"firinginto dead bodies for
thepurposeof teachingtheeffects of gunshots inwar" sincearound 1800.
Ditto theGermans, who went to theexquisitetroubleof proppingup
their mock victims al fresco, at distances approximatingthoseof anactual
battlefield. Eventhefamously neutral Swiss sanctioned aseries of
military wound ballistics studies oncadavers inthelate1800s. Theodore
Kocher, aSwiss professor of surgery and amember of theSwiss army
militia(theSwiss prefer not to fight, but they arearmed, and withmore
thanlittlered pocket knife/canopeners), spent ayear firingSwiss Vetterli
rifles into all manner of targetsbottles, books, water-filled pig
intestines, oxenbones, humanskulls, and, ultimately, apair of whole
humancadaverswiththeaimof understandingthemechanisms of
woundingfrombullets.
Kocherand to acertainextent LaGardeexpressed adesirethat their
ballistics work withcadavers would lead to amorehumanitarianformof
gunbattle. Kocher urged that thegoal of warfarebeto render theenemy
not dead, but simply unableto fight. To this end, headvised limitingthe
sizeof thebullets and makingthemfromamaterial of ahigher melting
point thanlead, so that they would deformless and thus destroy less
tissue.
Incapacitationor stoppingpower, as it is knowninmunitions circles
becametheHoly Grail of ballistics research. How to stop amaninhis
tracks, preferably without maimingor killinghim, but definitely before
hemaimed or killed youfirst. Indeed, thenext timeCaptainLaGarde
and his swingingcadavers took thestage, in1904, it was inthenameof
improved stoppingpower. Thetopichad beenhighonthegenerals' to-do
lists followingthearmy's involvement inthePhilippines, duringthefinal
stageof theSpanish-AmericanWar, whereits Colt .38s had failed, on
numerous occasions, to stop theenemy cold. WhiletheColt .38was
considered sufficient for "civilized" warfare"eventhestoical Japanese
soldier," wroteLaGardeinGunshot Injuries, "fell back as arulewhenhe
was hit thefirst time"suchwas apparently not thecasewith"savage
tribes or afanatical enemy." TheMoro tribesmanof thePhilippines was
considered abit of both: "A fanaticlikeaMoro, wieldingabolo ineach
hand who advances withleaps and bounds must behit witha
projectilehavingamaximumamount of stoppingpower," wroteLa
Garde. (TheMoro werebest knownfor their prowess withknives, not
bolos, and weresaid to takeprideintheir ability to halveanopponent in
asingleblow.) Herelated thetaleof onebattle-enlivened tribesmanwho
charged aU.S. Army guard unit. "Whenhewas within100yards, the
entireguard opened fireonhim." Nonetheless, hemanaged to advance
someninety-fiveyards toward thembeforefinally crashingto the
ground.
LaGarde, at theWar Department's urging, undertook aninvestigationof
thearmy's various guns and bullets and their relativeefficacy at puttinga
rapid halt to enemies. Hedecided that oneway to do this would beto fire
at suspended cadavers and takenoteof the"shock," as estimated by "the
disturbancewhichappeared." Inother words, how far back does the
hangingtorso or armor legswingwhenyoushoot it? "It was based on
theassumptionthat themomentumof hangingbodiesof various weights
could somehow becorrelated and measured, and that it actually meant
somethingwithregard to stoppingpower," says EvanMarshall, who
wrotethebook onhandgunstoppingpower (it's called HandgunStopping
Power). "What it actually did was extrapolatequestionabledatafrom
questionabletests."
EvenCaptainLaGardecameto realizethat if youwant to find out how
likely agunis to stop someone, youarebest off tryingit onanentity that
isn't already quitepermanently stopped. Inother words, aliveentity.
"Theanimals selected werebeeves about to undergo slaughter inthe
Chicago stock-yards," wroteLaGarde, deeply perplexingthetenor
fifteenpeoplewho would bereadinghis book later thanthe1930s, when
theword "beeves," meaningcattle, dropped fromeveryday discourse.
Sixteenbeeves later, LaGardehad his answer: Whereas thelarger-caliber
(.45) Colt revolver bullets caused thecattleto drop to theground after
threeor four shots, theanimals shot withsmaller-caliber .38bullets failed
evenafter tenshots to drop to theground. And ever since, theU.S. Army
has goneconfidently into battle, knowingthat whencows attack, their
menwill beready.
For themost part, it has beenthelowly swinethat has bornethebrunt of
munitions traumaresearchintheUnited States and Europe. InChinaat
theNo. 3Military Medical Collegeand theChinaOrdnanceSociety,
amongothersit has beenmongrel dogs that get shot at. InAustralia, as
reported intheProceedings of the5thSymposiumonWound Ballistics,
theresearchers took aimat rabbits. It is temptingto surmisethat aculture
chooses its most reviled species for ballistics research. Chinaoccasionally
eats its dogs, but doesn't otherwisehavemuchuseor affectionfor them;
inAustralia, rabbits areconsidered ascourgeimported by theBritish
for hunting, they multiplied (likerabbits) and, inaspanof twenty years,
wiped out two millionacres of southAustralianbrush.
Inthecaseof theU.S. and Europeanresearch, thetheory doesn't hold.
Pigs don't get shot at becauseour culturereviles themas filthy and
disgusting. Pigs get shot at becausetheir organs arealot likeours. The
heart of thepigis aparticularly closematch. Goats wereanother favorite,
becausetheir lungs arelikeours. I was told this by Commander Marlene
DeMaio, who studies body armor at theArmed Forces Instituteof
Pathology (AFIP). Talkingto DeMaio, I got theimpressionthat it would
bepossibleto construct anentirefunctioningnonhumanhumanfrom
pieces of other species. "Thehumankneemost resembles thebrown
bear's," shesaid at onepoint, followingup withasurprisingor not so
surprisingstatement: "Thehumanbrainmost resembles that of Jersey
cows at about sixmonths."[1] I learned elsewherethat emuhips aredead
ringers for humanhips, asituationthat has worked out better for
humans thanfor emus, who, over at IowaStateUniversity, havebeen
lamed inamanner that mimics osteonecrosis and thenshuttled inand
out of CT scanners by researchers seekingto understand thedisease.
Had I beencallingtheshots back at theWar Department, I would have
sanctioned astudy not onwhy mensometimes fail to drop to theground
after beingshot, but onwhy they so oftendo. If it takes tenor twelve
seconds to loseconsciousness fromblood loss (and consequent oxygen
deprivationto thebrain), why, then, do peoplewho havebeenshot so
oftencollapseonthespot? It doesn't happenjust onTV.
I posed this questionto DuncanMacPherson, arespected ballistics expert
and consultant to theLos Angeles PoliceDepartment. MacPhersoninsists
theeffect is purely psychological. Whether or not youcollapsedepends
onyour stateof mind. Animals don't know what it means to beshot, and,
accordingly, rarely exhibit theinstant stop-and-drop. MacPhersonpoints
out that deer shot throughtheheart oftenrunoff for forty or fifty yards
beforecollapsing. "Thedeer doesn't know anythingabout what's going
on, so hejust does his deer thingfor tenseconds or so and thenhecan't
do it anymore. Ananimal withameaner dispositionwill usethat ten
seconds to comeat you." Ontheflip side, therearepeoplewho areshot
at but not hitor hit withnonlethal bullets, whichdon't penetrate, but
just smart alotwho will drop immediately to theground. "Therewas
anofficer I know who took ashot at aguy and theguy just went flat,
totally splat, facedown," MacPhersontold me. "Hesaid to himself, 'God, I
was aimingfor center mass likeI'msupposed to, but I must havegottena
head shot by mistake. I'd better go back to theshootingrange.' Thenhe
went to theguy and therewasn't amark onhim. If thereisn't acentral
nervous systemhit, anythingthat happens fast is all psychological."
MacPherson's theory would explainthedifficulties thearmy had inLa
Garde's day withtheMoro tribesmen, who presumably weren't familiar
withtheeffects of rifles and kept ondoingtheir Moro tribesmanthing
until they couldn'towingto blood loss and consequent loss of
consciousnessdo it anymore. Sometimes it isn't just ignoranceas to
what bullets do that renders afoetemporarily impervious. It canalso be
viciousness and sheer determination. "A lot of guys takeprideintheir
imperviousness to pain," MacPhersonsaid. "They canget alot of holes in
thembeforethey go down. I know anLAPD detectivewho got shot
throughtheheart witha.357Magnumand hekilled theguy that shot
himbeforehecollapsed."
Not everyoneagrees withthepsychological theory. Therearethosewho
feel that somesort of neural overload takes placewhenabullet hits. I
communicated withaneurologist/avid handgunner/reservedeputy
sheriff inVictoria, Texas, named Dennis Tobin, who has atheory about
this. Tobin, who wrotethechapter "A Neurologist's View of 'Stopping
Power' " inthebook HandgunStoppingPower, posits that anareaof the
brainstemcalled thereticular activatingsystem(RAS) is responsiblefor
thesuddencollapse. TheRAScanbeaffected by impulses arisingfrom
massivepainsensations intheviscera.[2] Uponreceivingtheseimpulses,
theRASsends out asignal that weakens certainlegmuscles, withthe
result that thepersondrops to theground.
Somewhat shaky support for Tobin's neurological theory canbefound in
animal studies. Deer may keep going, but dogs and pigs seemto react as
humans do. Thephenomenonwas remarked uponinmilitary medical
circles as far back as 1893. A wound ballistics experimenter by thename
of Griffith, whilegoingabout his business documentingtheeffects of a
Krag-Jorgensenrifleuponthevisceraof livedogs at two hundred yards,
noted that theanimals, whenshot intheabdomen, "died as promptly as
thoughthey had beenelectrocuted." Griffithfound this odd, giventhat,
as hepointed out intheTransactionsof theFirst Pan-AmericanMedical
Congress, "no vital part was hit whichmight account for theinstantaneous
deathof theanimals." (Infact, thedogs wereprobably not as promptly
dead as Griffithbelieved. Morelikely, they had simply collapsed and
looked, fromtwo hundred yards, likedead dogs. And by thetime
Griffithhad walked thetwo hundred yards to get to them, they werein
fact dead dogs, havingexpired fromblood loss.)
In1988, aSwedishneurophysiologist named A. M. Gransson, thenof
Lund University, took it uponhimself to investigatetheconundrum. Like
Tobin, Granssonfigured that somethingabout thebullet's impact was
causingamassiveoverload to thecentral nervous system. And so,
perhaps unawareof thesimilarities betweenthehumanbrainand that of
Jersey cows at sixmonths, hewired thebrains of nineanesthetized pigs
to anEEG machine, oneat atime, and shot theminthehindquarters.
Granssonreports havingused a"high-energy missile" for thetask,
whichis less drasticthanit suggests. What it suggests is that Dr.
Granssongot into his car, drovesomedistancefromhis laboratory, and
launched theSwedishequivalent of Tomahawk missiles at thehapless
swine, but infact, I amtold, thetermsimply means asmall, fast-moving
bullet.
Instantly uponbeinghit, all but threeof thepigs showed significantly
flattened EEGs, theamplitudeinsomecases havingdropped by as much
as 50percent. As thepigs had already beenstopped intheir tracks by the
anesthesia, it is impossibleto say whether they would havebeen
rendered so by theshots, and Granssonopted not to speculate. And if
they had lost consciousness, Granssonhad no way of knowingwhat the
mechanismwas. To thedeep chagrinof pigs theworld over, he
encouraged further study.
Proponents of theneural overload theory point to the"temporary stretch
cavity" as thesourceof theeffect. All bullets, uponentry into thehuman
form, blow openacavity inthetissuearound them. This cavity shuts
back up almost immediately, but inthat fractionof asecond that it is
agape, thenervous system, they believe, issues aMayday blastenough
of one, it seems, to overload thecircuits and causethewholesystemto
hangaGoneFishingsignonthedoor.
Thesesameproponents believethat bullets that createsizablestretch
cavities arethus morelikely to deliver thenecessary shock to achievethe
vaunted ballistics goal of "good stoppingpower." If this is true, thenin
order to gaugeabullet's stoppingpower, oneneeds to beableto view the
stretchcavity as it opens up. That is why thegood Lord, workingin
tandemwiththeKind & Knoxgelatincompany, invented humantissue
simulant.
I amabout to fireabullet into theclosest approximationof ahuman
thighoutsideof ahumanthigh: asix-by-six-by-eighteen-inchblock of
ballisticgelatin. Ballisticgelatinis essentially atweaked versionof Knox
dessert gelatin. It is denser thandessert gelatin, havingbeenformulated
to matchtheaveragedensity of humantissue, is less colorful, and,
lackingsugar, is evenless likely to pleasedinner guests. Its advantage
over acadaver thighis that it affords astop-actionview of thetemporary
stretchcavity. Unlikereal tissue, humantissuesimulant doesn't snap
back: Thecavity remains, allowingballistics types to judge, and preserve
arecord of, abullet's performance. Plus, youdon't need to autopsy a
block of humantissuesimulant; becauseit's clear, youjust walk up to it
after you'veshot it and takealook at thedamage. Followingwhich, you
cantakeit home, eat it, and enjoy stronger, healthier nails inthirty days.
Likeother gelatinproducts, ballisticgelatinis madefromprocessed cow
bonechips and "freshly chopped" pighide.[3] TheKind & KnoxWebsite
does not includehumantissuesimulant onits list of technical gelatin
applications, whichrather surprised me, as did thefailureof aKnox
publicrelations womanto returnmy calls. Youwould think that a
company that felt comfortableextollingthevirtues of Number 1Pigskin
Greaseonits Website("It is avery cleanmaterial"; "Availableintanker
trucks or railcars") would beokay withtalkingabout ballisticgelatin, but
apparently I'vegot truckloads or railcars to learnabout gelatinPR.
Our replicant humanthighwas cooked up by Rick Lowden, a
freewheelingmaterials engineer whoseareaof expertiseis bullets.
Lowdenworks at theDepartment of Energy's Oak RidgeNational
Laboratory inOak Ridge, Tennessee. Thelabis best knownfor its
plutoniumwork intheManhattan(atomicbombdevelopment) Project
and now covers afar broader and generally less unpopular rangeof
projects. Lowden, for instance, has lately beeninvolved inthedesignof
anenvironmentally friendly no-lead bullet that doesn't cost themilitary
anarmand alegto cleanup after. Lowdenloves guns, loves to talk about
them. Right now he's tryingto talk about themwithme, adistinctly
tryingexperience, for I keep shepherdingtheconversationback to dead
bodies, whichLowdenclearly doesn't enjoy very much. Youwould think
that amanwho felt comfortableextollingthevirtues of hollow-point
bullets ("expands to twiceits sizeand just thumps that person") would be
okay talkingabout dead bodies, but apparently not. "Youjust cringe," he
said, whenI mentioned theprospect of shootinginto humancadaver
tissue. Thenhemadeanoisethat I transcribed inmy notes as "Olggh."
Wearestandingunder acanopy at theOak Ridgeshootingrange, about
to set up thefirst stopping-power test. The"thighs" sit inanopenplastic
cooler at our feet, sweatingmildly. They areconsomm-colored and,
owingto thecinnamonadded to mask thematerial's mild rendering-
plant effluvium, smell likeBigRed chewinggum. Rick carries thecooler
out to thetarget table, thirty feet away, and settles anersatz thighinto the
gel cradle. I makeconversationwithScottieDowdell, who is supervising
theshootingrangetoday. Heis tellingmeabout thepinebeetleepidemic
inthearea. I point to astand of dead conifers inthewoods aquarter mile
back behind thetarget. "Likeover there?" Scottiesays no. Hesays they
died of bullet wounds, somethingI never knew pinetrees could do.
Rick returns and sets up thegun, whichisn't really agunbut a"universal
receiver," atabletop gunhousingthat canbeoutfitted withbarrels of
different calibers. Onceit's aimed, youpull awireto releasethebullet.
We'retestingacoupleof new bullets that claimto befrangible, meaning
they break apart onimpact. Thefrangiblebullet was designed to solve
the"overpenetration," or ricochet, problem, i.e., bullets passingthrough
victims, bouncingoff walls, and harmingbystanders or thepoliceor
soldiers who firedthem. Thesideeffect of thebullet's breakingapart on
impact is that it tends to do this insideyour body if you'rehit. Inother
words, it tends to havereally, really good stoppingpower. It basically
functions likeatiny bombinsidethevictimand istherefore, to date,
mainly reserved for "special response" SWAT-typeactivities, suchas
hostagerescue.
Rick hands methetrigger stringand counts downfromthree. Thegelatin
sits onthetable, soakingup thesunshine, baskingbeneaththecalm, blue
Tennesseeskiestralala, lifeisgay, it'sgoodtobeagelatinblock, I
BLAM!
Theblock flips up into theair, off thetable, and onto thegrass. As John
Waynesaid, or would have, had hehad theopportunity, this block of
gelatinwon't bebotheringanyoneanytimesoon. Rick picks up theblock
and places it back inits cradle. Youcanseethebullet's journey through
the"thigh." Rather thanoverpenetratingand exitingtheback side, the
bullet has stopped short several inches into theblock. Rick pointsto the
stretchcavity. "Look at that. A total dump of energy. Total
incapacitation."
I had asked Lowdenwhether munitions professionals ever concern
themselves, as did Kocher and LaGarde, withtryingto designbullets
that will incapacitatewithout maimingor killing. Lowden's face
displayed thesort of look it displayed earlier whenI'd said that armor-
piercingbullets were"cute." Heanswered that themilitary chooses
weapons moreor less by how muchdamagethey caninflict onatarget,
"whether thetarget beahumanor avehicle." This is another reason
ballisticgelatintends to get used instopping-power tests, rather than
cadavers. We'renot talkingabout researchthat will help mankind save
lives; we'retalkingabout researchthat will help mankind takelives. I
supposeyoucould arguethat policemen's and soldiers' lives may be
saved, but only by takingsomeoneelse's lifefirst. Anyway, it's not ause
of humantissuefor whichyou'relikely to get broad publicsupport.
Of course, theother bigreasonmunitions peopleshoot ballisticgelatinis
reproducibility: Provided youfollow therecipe, it's always thesame.
Cadaver thighs vary indensity and thickness, accordingto theage,
gender, and physical conditionof their owners whenthey stopped using
them. Still another reason: Cleanup's abreeze. Theremains of this
morning's thighs havebeenpicked up and repacked inthecooler, atidy,
bloodless mass graveof low-caloriedessert.
Not that aballisticgelatinshootout is completely devoid of gore. Lowden
points to thetoeof my sneaker, at aPulpFictionfleck of spatter. "Yougot
somesimulant onyour shoe."
Rick Lowdennever shot adead man, thoughhehad his chance. Hewas
workingonaproject, incooperationwiththeUniversity of Tennessee's
humandecay facility, aimed at developingbullets that would resist
corrosionfromtheacid breakdownproducts insideadead body and help
forensics types solvecrimes longafter they happen.
Rather thanshootingtheexperimental bullets into his cadavers, Lowden
got downonhis hands and knees withascalpel and apair of tweezers
and surgically placed them. Heexplained that hedid this becausehe
wanted thebullets to end up inspecificplaces: muscle, fatty tissue, the
head and chest cavities, theabdomen. If he'd shot theminto thetissue,
they might haveoverpenetrated, as they say, and wound up inthedirt.
Healso did it that way becausehefelt hehad to. "It was always my
impressionthat wecouldn't shoot abody." Herecalls another project, one
inwhichhewas developingasimulated humanbonethat could beput
insideblocks of ballisticgelatin, muchas bananaand pineapplechunks
arefloated insideJell-O. To calibratethesimulated bone, heneeded to
shoot someactual boneand comparethetwo. "I was offered sixteen
cadaver legs to shoot at. DOE told methey would terminatemy project if
I did that. Wehad to shoot pigfemurs instead."
Lowdentold methat military munitions professionals evenworry about
thepolitics of shootingintofreshly killed livestock. "A lot of guys won't
do that. They'll go get ahamfromthestoreor alegfromthe
slaughterhouse. Eventhen, alot of themdon't openly publishwhat they
do. There's still astigma."
Tenfeet behind us, sniffingtheair, is agroundhogwho has made
unfortunatereal estatechoices inhis life. Theanimal is half thesizeof a
humanthigh. If youshot that groundhogwithoneof thesebullets, I say
to Rick, what would happen? Would it completely vaporize? Rick and
Scottieexchangealook. I get thefeelingthat thestigmaattached to
shootinggroundhogs is fairly minimal.
Scottieshuts theammo case. "Createalot of paperwork, is what would
happen."
Only recently has themilitary dipped its toes back into theroilingwaters
of publicly funded cadavericballistics research. As onewould imagine,
thegoals arestrictly humanitarian. At theArmed Forces Instituteof
Pathology's BallisticMissileTraumaResearchLablast year, Commander
MarleneDeMaio dressed cadavers inanewly developed body armor vest
and fired arangeof modern-day munitions at their chests. Theideawas
to test themanufacturer's claims beforeoutfittingthetroops. Apparently
body armor manufacturers' effectiveness claims aren't always to be
trusted. AccordingtoLester Roane, chief engineer at theindependent
ballistics and body armor test facility H. P. WhiteLabs, thecompanies
don't do cadaver tests. H. P. Whitedoesn't either. "Anybody lookingat it
coldly and logically shouldn't haveany problemwithit," said Roane. "It's
dead meat. But for somereason, it's just somethingthat has been
politically incorrect frombeforetherewas atermfor politically correct."
DeMaio's cadaver tests represent adistinct improvement over how vests
wereoriginally tested by themilitary: InOperationBoar, duringthe
KoreanWar, theDoronvest was tested simply by givingit to six
thousand soldiers and seeinghow they fared compared to soldiers
wearingstandard vests. Roanesays heoncewatched avideo madeby a
Central Americanpolicedepartment that tested their vests by having
officers put themonand thenshootingat them.
Thetrick to designingbody armor is to makeit thick and unyielding
enoughto stop bullets without makingit so heavy and hot and
uncomfortablethat officers won't wear it. What youdon't want is what
theGilberteseIslanders used to have. WhileI was inD.C. to seeDeMaio,
I stopped at theSmithsonian's Museumof Natural History, whereI saw a
display of body armor fromtheGilbert Islands. Battles inMicronesia
wereso pitched and bloody that Gilbertesewarriors would outfit
themselves head to foot withdoormat-thick armor fashioned fromthe
twisted fibers of coconut hulls. Ontop of thesignificant humiliationof
makingone's entranceonto thebattlefield lookinglikeanenormous
macrameplanter was thefact that thearmor was so bulky it required the
assistanceof several squires to help maneuver you.
As withautomotivecadavers, DeMaio's body-armor bodies were
instrumented withaccelerometers and load cells, inthis caseonthe
sternum, to record theimpact forces and giveresearchers adetailed
medical renderingof what was happeningto thechest insidethearmor.
Withsomeof thenastier-caliber weapons, thecadavers sustained lung
lacerations and ribfractures, but nothingthat translated into aninjury
thatif youweren't already acadavercould kill you. Moretests are
planned, withthegoal of makingatest dummy alongthelines of those
used by theautomotiveindustryso that oneday cadavers won't be
needed.
Becauseshehad proposed to usehumancadavers, DeMaio was advised
to proceed withextremecaution. Shegathered theblessings of three
institutional review boards, amilitary legal counsel, and acard-carrying
ethicist. Theproject was ultimately approved, withonestipulation: no
penetration. Thebullets had to stop short of thecadavers' skin.
Did DeMaio roll her eyes inexasperation? Shesays not. "WhenI was in
medical school I used to think, 'Comeon, don't beirrational. They've
expired, they'vedonated their bodies, youknow?' WhenI got into this
project I realized that wearepart of thepublictrust, and evenif it doesn't
makescientificsense, wehaveto beresponsiveto people's emotional
concerns."
Onaninstitutional level, thecautioncomes fromfear of liability and of
unpleasant mediareports and withdrawal of funding. I spokewith
Colonel JohnBaker, thelegal counsel fromoneof theinstitutions that
sponsored DeMaio's research. Thehead of this institutionpreferred that I
refrainfromnamingit and instead refer to it as simply "afederal
institutioninWashington." Hetold methat over thepast twenty-some
years, democraticcongressmenand budget-minded legislators havetried
to closetheplacedown, as haveJimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and People
for theEthical Treatment of Animals. I got thefeelingthat my request for
aninterview had brought this man's day crashingdownlikeso many
pinetrees behind aDOE shootingrange.
"Theconcernis that somesurvivor will beso takenaback that they'll
bringsuit," said Colonel Baker fromhis desk at afederal institutionin
Washington. "And thereis no body of law inthis area, nothingyoucan
look to other thangood judgment." Hepointed out that although
cadavers don't haverights, their family members do. "I could imagine
somesort of lawsuit that is based uponemotional distress.Youget
someof those[cases] inacemetery situation, wheretheproprietor has
allowed thecoffins to rot away and thecorpses pop up." I replied that as
longas youhaveinformed consentasigned agreement fromthedonor
statingthat hehas willed his body to medical researchit would seem
that thesurvivors wouldn't havemuchof acase.
Thestickingpoint is theword "informed." It's fair to say that when
peopledonateremains, either their ownor thoseof afamily member,
they usually don't careto know thegrisly details of what might bedone
withthem. And that if youdid tell themthedetails, they might change
their minds and withdraw consent. Thenagain, if you'replanningto
shoot guns at them, it might begood to runthat up theflagpoleand get
thea-okay. "Part of respectingpersons is tellingthemtheinformation
that they might haveanemotional responseto," says Edmund Howe,
editor of theJournal of Clinical Ethics, who reviewed MarleneDeMaio's
researchproposal. "Thoughonecould go theother way and sparethem
that responseand thereforeethically not commit that harm. But the
downsideto withholdinginformationthat might besignificant to themis
that it would violatetheir dignity to anextent." Howesuggests athird
possibility, that of lettingthefamilies makethechoice: Would they prefer
to hear thespecifics of what is beingdonewiththedonated body
specifics that may beupsettingor would they prefer not to know?
It's adelicatebalancethat, intheend, comes downto wording. Observes
Baker, "Youdon't really want to betellingsome-body, 'Well, what we'll
bedoingis dissectingtheir eyeballs. Wetakethemout and put themona
tableand thenwedissect theminto finer and finer parts and thenonce
we'refinished wescrapeall that stuff up and put it into abiohazard bag
and try to keep it together so wecanreturnwhatever's left to you.' That
sounds horrible." Ontheother hand, "medical research" is atad vague.
"Instead, yousay, 'Oneof our principal concerns hereat theuniversity is
ophthalmology. So wedo alot herewithophthalmological materials.'" If
someonecares to think it through, it isn't hard to cometo theconclusion
that someoneinalabcoat will, at thevery least, becuttingyour eyeball
out of your head. But most peopledon't careto think it through. They
focus ontheend, rather thanthemeans: Someone's visionmay oneday
besaved.
Ballistics studies areespecially problematic. How do youdecideit's okay
to cut off someone's grandfather's head and shoot it intheface? Even
whenthereasonyouaredoingthat is to gather datato ensurethat
innocent civilians who arehit inthefacewithnonlethal bullets won't
suffer disfiguringfractures? Moreover, how do youbringyourself to
carry out thecuttingoff and shootingof someone's grandfather's head?
I posed thesequestions to Cindy Bir, who brought herself to do exactly
that, and whomI met whileI wasat WayneState. Bir is accustomed to
firingprojectiles at thedead. In1993, theNational Instituteof Justice
(NIJ) commissioned her to document theimpact effects of various
nonlethal munitions: plasticbullets, rubber ones, beanbags, thelot. Police
beganusingnonlethal bullets inthelate1980s, insituations wherethey
need to subdueciviliansmostly rioters and violent psychoticswithout
puttingtheir lives indanger. Innineinstances sincethat time, "nonlethal"
bullets haveproved lethal, promptingtheNIJ to haveBir look into what
was goingonwiththesedifferent bullets, withtheaimof its not goingon
ever again.
As to thequestion"How do youbringyourself to cut off someone's
grandfather's head?" Bir replied, "Thankfully, Ruhandoes that for us."
(Thevery sameRuhanwho preps thecadavers for automotiveimpacts.)
Sheadded that thenonlethal munitions werenot shot fromguns but
fired fromair cannons, becausedoingso is bothmorepreciseand less
disturbing. "Still," concedes Bir. "I was glad whenthat onefinished up."
Bir copes likemost other cadaver researchers do, withamixof
compassionand emotional remove. "Youtreat themwithdignity, and
youkind of separatethefact that I don't want to say that they'renot a
person, but youthink of themas aspecimen." Bir was trained as a
nurse, and insomeways finds thedead easier to work with. "I know they
can't feel it, and I know that I'mnot goingto hurt them." Eventhemost
practiced cadaver researcher has days whenthetask at hand presents
itself as somethingother thanscientificmethod. For Bir, it had littleto do
withthefact that shewas directingbullets at her subjects. It is the
moments whenthespecimensteps out of his anonymity, his objecthood,
and into his past existenceas ahumanbeing.
"Wereceived aspecimenand I went downto help Ruhan, and this
gentlemanmust havecomedirectly fromthenursinghomeor hospital,"
sherecalls. "Hehad onaT-shirt and flannel PJ pants. It hit melike this
could bemy dad. Thentherewas onethat I went to look atalot of
times youliketo takealook at thespecimento makesureit's not too big
[to lift]and this personwas wearingahospital gownfrommy
hometown."
If youreally want to stay up lateworryingabout lawsuitsand bad
publicity, explodeabombnear thebody of someonewho has willed his
remains to science. This is perhaps themost firmly entrenched taboo of
thecadavericresearchworld. Indeed, live, anesthetized animals have
generally beenconsidered preferable, as targets of explosions, to dead
humanbeings. InaDefenseAtomicSupport Agency paper entitled
Estimatesof Man'sTolerancetotheDirect Effectsof Air Blasti.e., from
bombsresearchers discussed theeffects of experimental explosions
uponmice, hamsters, rats, guineapigs, rabbits, cats, dogs, goats, sheep,
steers, pigs, burros, and stump-tailed macaques, but not upontheactual
subject of inquiry. No onehad ever strapped acadaver up against the
shock tubeto seewhat might happen.
I called up amannamed Aris Makris, who works for acompany in
Canadacalled Med-EngSystems, whichengineers protectivegear for
peoplewho clear land mines. I told himabout theDASA paper. Dr.
Makris explained that dead peopleweren't always thebest models for
gauginglivingpeople's toleranceto explosiveblasts becauseof their
lungs, whicharedeflated and not doingthethings that lungs normally
do. Theshock wavefromabombwreaks themost havoconthebody's
most easily compressed tissue, and that is found inthelungs: specifically,
thetiny, delicateair sacs wheretheblood picks up oxygenand drops off
carbondioxide. Anexplosiveshock wavecompresses and ruptures these
sacs. Blood thenseeps into thelungs and drowns their owner, sometimes
quickly, intenor twenty minutes, sometimes over aspanof hours.
Makris conceded that, biomedical issues aside, theblast tolerancechaps
wereprobably not highly motivated to work withcadavers. "Thereare
enormous ethical or PR challenges withthat," hesaid. "It just hasn't been
thehabit of blastingcadavers: Pleasegiveyour body to scienceso wecan
blow it up?"
Onegroup recently braved thestorm. Lieutenant Colonel Robert Harris
and ateamof other doctors fromtheExtremity TraumaStudy Branchof
theU.S. ArmyInstituteof Surgical Researchat Fort SamHouston, Texas,
recruited cadavers to test fivetypes of footwear either commonly used by
or beingnewly marketed for land mineclearanceteams. Ever sincethe
VietnamWar, arumor had persisted that sandals werethesafest
footwear for land mineclearance, for they minimized injuries caused by
fragments of thefootwear itself beingdriveninto thefoot likeshrapnel,
compoundingthedamageand therisk of infection. Yet no onehad ever
tested thesandal claimonareal foot, nor had anyonedonecadaver tests
of any of theequipment beingtouted by manufacturers as offering
greater safety thanthestandard combat boot.
Enter thefearless menof theLower Extremity Assessment Program.
Startingin1999, twenty cadavers fromaDallas medical school willed
body programwerestrapped, oneby one, into aharness hangingfrom
theceilingof aportableblast shelter. Eachcadaver was outfitted with
straingauges and load cells initsheel and ankle, and clad inoneof six
types of footwear. Someboots claimed to protect by raisingthefoot up
away fromtheblast, whoseforces attenuatequickly; others claimed to
protect by absorbingor deflectingtheblast's energy. Thebodies were
posed instandard walkingposition, heel to theground, as though
stridingconfidently to their doom. As anadded noteof verisimilitude,
eachcadaver was outfitted head to toeinaregulationbattledress
uniform. Inadditionto theadded realism, theuniforms conferred a
measureof respect, thesort of respect that apowder-blueleotard might
not, intheeyes of theU.S. Army anyway, supply.
Harris felt confident that thestudy's humanitarianbenefits outweighed
any potential breachof dignity. Nonetheless, heconsulted thewilled
body programadministrators about thepossibility of informingfamily
members about thespecifics of thetest. They advised against it, both
becauseof what they called the"revisitingof grief" amongfamilies who
had madepiecewiththedecisionto donateand because, whenyouget
downto thenitty-gritty details of anexperiment, virtually any useof a
cadaver is potentially upsetting. If willed body programcoordinators
contacted thefamilies of LEAP cadavers, would they thenhaveto contact
thefamilies of theleg-drop-test cadavers downthehall, or, for that
matter, theanatomy labcadavers across campus? As Harris points out,
thedifferencebetweenablast test and ananatomy class dissectionis
essentially thetimespan. Onelasts afractionof asecond; theother lasts a
year. "Intheend," hesays, "they look pretty muchthesame." I asked
Harris if heplans to donatehis body to research. Hesounded downright
keenontheprospect. "I'malways saying, 'After I die, just put meout
thereand blow meup.' "
If Harris could havedonehis researchusingsurrogate"dummy" legs
instead of cadavers, hewould havedoneso. Today thereareacouple
good ones intheworks, developed by theAustralianDefenceScience&
Technology Organisation. (InAustralia, as inother Commonwealth
nations, ballistics and blast testingonhumancadavers is not allowed.
And certainwords arespelled funny.) TheFrangibleSurrogateLeg(FSL)
is madeof materials that react to blast similarly to theway humanleg
materials do; it has mineralized plasticfor bones, for example, and
ballisticgelatinfor muscle. InMarchof 2001, Harris exposed the
Australianlegto thesameland mineblasts that his cadavers had
weathered, to seeif theresults correlated. Disappointingly, thebone
fracturepatterns weresomewhat off. Themainproblem, at themoment,
is cost. EachFSLthey aren't reusablecosts around $5,000; thecost of a
cadaver (to cover shipping, HIV and hepatitis C testing, cremation, etc.)
is typically under $500.
Harris imagines it's only amatter of timebeforethekinks areworked out
and thepricecomes down. Helooks forward to that time. Surrogates are
preferablenot only becausetests involvingland mines and cadavers are
ethically (and probably literally) sticky, but becausecadavers aren't
uniform. Theolder they are, thethinner their bones and theless elastic
their tissue. Inthecaseof land minework, theages areanespecially poor
match, withtheaverageland mineclearer inhis twenties and theaverage
donated cadaver inits sixties. It's likemarket-testingKid Rock singles on
aroomful of Perry Como fans.
Until that time, it'll beroughgoingfor Commonwealthland minetypes,
who cannot usewholecadavers. Researchers intheUK haveresorted to
testingboots onamputated legs, amuch-criticized practice, owingto the
fact that theselimbs havetypically had gangreneor diabetic
complications that render thempoor mimics of healthy limbs. Another
group tried puttinganew typeof protectiveboot onto thehind legof a
muledeer for testing. Giventhat deer lack toes and heels and peoplelack
hooves, and that no country I know of employs muledeer inland mine
clearance, it is hardthoughmildly entertainingto try to imaginewhat
thevalueof suchastudy could havebeen.
LEAP, for its part, turned out to beavaluablestudy. Thesandal myth
was mildly vindicated (theinjuries wereabout as severeas they were
withacombat boot), and onebootMed-Eng's Spider Bootshowed
itself to beasolid improvement over standard-issuefootwear (thougha
larger sampleis needed to besure). Harris considers theproject asuccess,
becausewithland mines, evenasmall gaininprotectioncanmeana
hugedifferenceinavictim's medical outcome. "If I cansaveafoot or
keep anamputationbelow theknee," hesays, "that's awin."
It is anunfortunategivenof humantraumaresearchthat thethings most
likely to accidentally maimor kill peoplethings wemost need to study
and understandarealso thethings most likely to mutilateresearch
cadavers: car crashes, gunshots, explosions, sportingaccidents. Thereis
no need to usecadavers to study stapler injuries or humantoleranceto
ill-fittingfootwear. "Inorder to beableto protect against athreat,
whether it is automotiveor abomb," observes Makris, "youhaveto put
thehumanto its limits. You'vegot to get destructive."
I agreewithDr. Makris. Does that meanI would let someoneblow up my
dead foot to help savethefeet of NATO land mineclearers? It does. And
would I let someoneshoot my dead facewithanonlethal projectileto
help prevent accidental fatalities? I supposeI would. What wouldn't I let
someonedo to my remains? I canthink of only oneexperiment I know of
that, wereI acadaver, I wouldn't want anythingto do with. This
particular experiment wasn't doneinthenameof scienceor educationor
safer cars or better-protected soldiers. It was doneinthenameof religion.
Footnotes:
[1] I did not ask DeMaio about sheep and thepurported similarity of
portions of their reproductiveanatomy to that of thehumanfemale, lest
shebeforced to draw conclusions about thesimilarity of my intellect and
manners to that of the, I don't know, boll weevil.
[2] MacPhersoncounters that bullet wounds arerarely, at theoutset,
painful. Researchby eighteenth-century scientist/philosopher Albrecht
vonHaller suggests that it depends onwhat thebullet hits.
Experimentingonlivedogs, cats, rabbits, and other small unfortunates,
Haller systematically catalogued thevisceraaccordingto whether or not
they register pain. By his reckoning, thestomach, intestines, bladder,
ureter, vagina, womb, and heart do, whereas thelungs, liver, spleen, and
kidneys "havevery littlesensation, seeingI haveirritated them, thrust a
knifeinto them, and cut themto pieces without theanimals' seemingto
feel any pain." Haller admitted that thework suffered certain
methodological shortcomings, most notably that, as heput it, "ananimal
whosethoraxis opened is insuchviolent torturethat it is hard to
distinguishtheeffect of anadditional slight irritation."
[3] Accordingto theKind & KnoxWebsite, other products madewith
cow-bone-and-pigskin-based gelatinincludemarshmallows, nougat-type
candy bar fillings, liquorice, Gummi Bears, caramels, sports drinks,
butter, icecream, vitamingel caps, suppositories, and that distasteful
whitishpeel ontheoutsideof salamis. What I amgettingat hereis that if
you'regoingto worry about mad cow disease, youprobably havemore
to worry about thanyouthought. And that if there's any danger, whichI
liketo think thereisn't, we'reall doomed, so relaxand haveanother
Snickers.
7
HolyCadaver
Thecrucifixionexperiments
Theyear was 1931. Frenchdoctors and medical students weregathered
inParis for anannual affair called theLaennecconference. Lateone
morning, apriest appeared onthefringes of thegathering. Heworethe
longblack cassock and Romancollar of theCatholicChurch, and he
carried awornleather portfolio beneathonearm. His namewas Father
Armailhac, hesaid, and hesought thecounsel of France's finest
anatomists. Insidetheportfolio was aseries of close-up photographs of
theShroud of Turin, thelinenclothinwhich, believers held, Jesus had
beenwrapped for burial whenhewas takendownfromthecross. The
shroud's authenticity was inquestionthen, as now, and thechurchhad
turned to medicineto seeif themarkings corresponded to therealities of
anatomy and physiology.
Dr. PierreBarbet, aprominent and none-too-humblesurgeon, invited
Father Armailhacto his officeat Hpital Saint-Josephand swiftly
nominated himself for thejob. "I am well versed inanatomy, whichI
taught for alongtime," herecalls tellingArmailhacinA Doctor at Calvary:
ThePassionof Our LordJesusChrist asDescribedbyaSurgeon. "I lived for
thirteenyears inclosecontact withcorpses," reads thenext line. One
assumes that theteachingstint and theyears spent livinginclosecontact
withcorpses wereoneand thesame, but who knows. Perhaps hekept
dead family members inthecellar. TheFrenchhavebeenknownto do
that.
Littleis knownabout our Dr. Barbet, except that hebecamevery devoted,
possibly alittletoo devoted, to provingtheauthenticity of theShroud.
Oneday soon, hewould find himself up inhis lab, poundingnails into
thehands and feet of anelfin, Einstein-haired cadaveroneof themany
unclaimed dead brought as amatter of courseto Parisiananatomy labs
and crucifyingthedead manonacross of his ownmaking.
Barbet had becomefixated onapair of elongated "bloodstains"[1] issuing
fromthe"imprint" of theback of theright hand ontheshroud. Thetwo
stains comefromthesamesourcebut proceed alongdifferent paths, at
different angles. Thefirst, hewrites, "mounts obliquely upwards and
inwards (anatomically its positionis likethat of asoldier when
challenging), reachingtheulnar edgeof theforearm. Another flow, but
onemoreslender and meandering, has goneupwards as far as the
elbow." Inthesoldier remark, wehaveanearly glimmer of what, inthe
duecourseof time, becameclear: Barbet was somethingof awack. I
mean, I don't wishto beunkind, but who uses battleimagery to describe
theangleof ablood flow?
Barbet decided that thetwo flows werecreated by Jesus' alternately
pushinghimself up and thensaggingdownto hangby his hands; thus
thetrickleof blood fromthenail wound would follow two different
paths, dependingonwhichpositionhewas in. ThereasonJesus was
doingthis, Barbet theorized, was that whenpeoplehangfromtheir arms,
it becomes difficult to exhale; Jesus was tryingto keep fromsuffocating.
Then, after awhile, his legs would fatigueand he'd sagback downagain.
Barbet cited as support for his ideaatorturetechniqueused during
World War I, whereinthevictimis hungby his hands, whicharebound
together over his head. "Hangingby thehands causes avariety of cramps
and contractions," wroteBarbet. "Eventually thesereachtheinspiratory
muscles and prevent expiration; thecondemned men, beingunableto
empty their lungs, dieof asphyxia."
Barbet used theangles of thepurported blood flows ontheshroud to
calculatewhat Jesus' two positions onthecross must havebeen: Inthe
saggingposture, hecalculated that theoutstretched arms formed a65-
degreeanglewiththestipes (theupright beam) of thecross. Inthe
pushed-up position, thearms formed a70-degreeanglewiththestipes.
Barbet thentried to verify this, usingoneof themany unclaimed corpses
that weredelivered to theanatomy department fromthecity's hospitals
and poorhouses.
OnceBarbet got thebody back to his lab, heproceeded to nail it to a
homemadecross. Hethenraised thecross upright and measured the
angleof thearms whentheslumpingbody cameto astop. Lo and
behold, it was 65degrees. (As thecadaver could of coursenot be
persuaded to pushitself back up, thesecond angleremained unverified.)
TheFrencheditionof Barbet's book includes aphotographof thedead
manonthecross. Thecadaver is shownfromthewaist up, so I cannot
say whether Barbet dressed himJesus-styleinswaddlingundergarments,
but I cansay that hebears anuncanny resemblanceto themonologuist
SpaldingGray.
Barbet's ideapresented ananatomical conundrum. For if therewere
periods whenJesus' legs gaveout and hewas forced to hangtheentire
weight of his body off his nailed palms, wouldn't thenails rip through
theflesh? Barbet wondered whether, infact, Jesus had beennailed
throughthestronger, bonier wrists, and not thefleshof thepalms. He
decided to do anexperiment, detailed inA Doctor at Cavalry. This time,
rather thanwrestleanother wholecadaver onto his cross, hecrucified a
lonearm. Barely had theowner of thearmleft theroomwhenBarbet had
his hammer out:
Having just amputated an arm two-thirds of the
way up from a vigorous man, I drove a square
nail of about 1/3 of an inch (the nail of the
Passion) into the middle of the palm.I gently
suspended a weight of 100 pounds from the
elbow (half the weight of the body of a man
about 6 foot tall). After ten minutes, the
wound had lengthened; I then gave the whole a
moderate shake, and I saw the nail suddenly
forcing its way through the space between the
two metacarpal heads and making a large tear
in the skin.A second slight shake tore away
what skin remained.
Intheweeks that followed, Barbet went throughtwelvemorearms ina
quest to find asuitablepoint inthehumanwrist throughwhichto
hammer a1/3-inchnail. This was not agood timefor vigorous menwith
minor hand injuries to visit theoffices of Dr. PierreBarbet.
Eventually, Barbet's busy hammer madeits way to what hebelieved was
thetruesiteof thenail's passage: Destot's space, apea-sized gap between
thetwo rows of thebones of thewrist. "Ineachcase," hewrote, "thepoint
took up its owndirectionand seemed to beslippingalongthewalls of a
funnel and thento find its way spontaneously into thespacewhichwas
awaitingit." It was as thoughdivineinterventionapplied to nail
trajectories as well. "And this spot," Barbet continued triumphantly, "is
precisely wheretheshroud shows us themark of thenail, aspot of which
no forger would havehad any idea."
And thenalongcameFrederick Zugibe.
Zugibeis agruff, overworked medical examiner for Rockland County,
New York, who spends his sparetimeresearchingtheCrucifixionand
"Barbet-bashing" at what hecalls "Shroudieconferences" around the
world. He'll always maketimeto talk to youif youcall, but it becomes
quickly clear inthecourseof theconversationthat sparetimeis
somethingZugibehas very littleof. He'll behalfway throughan
explanationof theformulaused to determinethepull of thebody on
eachof Christ's hands whenhis voicewill wander away fromthe
telephonefor aminute, and thenhe'll comeback and say, "Excuseme. A
nine-year-old body. Father beat her to death. Wherewerewe?"
Zugibeis not onamissionto provetheauthenticity of theShroud of
Turinas, I suspect, Barbet was. Hebecameinterested inthescienceof
crucifixionfifty years ago, as abiology student, whensomeonegavehim
apaper to read about themedical aspects of theCrucifixion. The
physiological informationinthepaper struck himas inaccurate. "So I
researched it out, wroteatermpaper, got interested." TheShroud of
Turininterested himonly inthat it might, wereit for real, provideagreat
deal of informationabout thephysiology of crucifixion. "ThenI came
across Barbet. I thought, Gee, this is exciting. Must beareal smart guy
doubleblood flow and all that." Zugibebegandoingresearchof his own.
Oneby one, Barbet's theories fell apart.
LikeBarbet, Zugibeconstructed across, whichhas stoodwiththe
exceptionof several days during2001whenit was out for repairs
(warped stipes)inhis garagein suburbanNew York for someforty
years. Rather thancrucifyingcorpses, Barbet uses livevolunteers,
hundreds inall. For his first study, herecruited just shy of onehundred
volunteers fromalocal religious group, theThird Order of St. Francis.
How muchdo youhaveto pay aresearchsubject to becrucified?
Nothing. "They would havepaid me," says Zugibe. "Everyonewanted to
go up and seewhat it felt like." Granted, Zugibewas usingleather straps,
not nails. (Over theyears, Zugibehas occasionally received calls from
volunteers seekingthereal deal. "Would youbelieve? A girl called me
and wanted meto actually nail her. She's withthis group wherethey put
plates intheir face, they surgically alter their heads, they bifurcatetheir
tongues and put thosethings throughtheir penis.")
Thefirst thingZugibenoticed whenhebeganputtingpeopleup onhis
cross was that noneof themwerehavingtroublebreathing, evenwhen
they stayed up therefor forty-fiveminutes. (He'd beenskeptical about
Barbet'ssuffocationtheory and dismissiveof thereferenceto torture
victims becausethosemen's hands weredirectly over their heads, not out
to their sides.) Nor did Zugibe's subjects spontaneously try to lift
themselves up. Infact, whenasked to do so, inadifferent experiment,
they wereunableto. "It is totally impossibleto lift yourself up fromthat
position, withthefeet flushto thecross," Zugibeasserts. Furthermore, he
points out, thedoubleblood flows wereontheback of thehand, which
was pressed against thecross. If Jesus had beenpushinghimself up and
down, theblood oozingfromthewound would havebeensmeared, not
neatly split into two flows.
What, then, could havecaused thefamed doubleflow marks onthe
Shroud? Zugibeimagines its havinghappened after Jesus was taken
downfromthecross and washed. Thewashingdisturbed theclotting
and asmall quantity of blood trickled out and split into two rivulets as it
encountered theulnar styloid protuberance, thebump that protrudes
fromthepinkiesideof thewrist. Zugiberecalled havingseenaflow of
blood just likethis onagunshot victiminhis lab. Hetested his theory by
washingthedried blood fromthewound of arecently arrived corpsein
his labto seeif asmall quantity of blood might leak out. "Withinafew
minutes," hewrites inanarticlepublished intheShroudiejournal Sindon,
"asmall rivulet of blood appeared."
Zugibethennoticed that Barbet had madeananatomical blunder
regardingDestot's space, whichis not, as Barbet crowed inhis book,
"precisely wheretheshroud shows us themark of thenail." Thewound
ontheback of thehand ontheShroud of Turinappears onthethumb
sideof thewrist, and any anatomy textbook will confirmthat Destot's
spaceis onthepinkiesideof thewrist, whereBarbet indeed sank his
nails into his cadaver wrists.
Zugibe's theory holds that thenail went inthroughJesus' palmat an
angleand cameout theback sideat thewrist. Hehas his ownbrand of
cadavericevidence: photographs takenforty-four years ago of amurder
victimthat showed up inhis lab. "She'd beenbrutally stabbed over her
wholebody," Zugiberecalls. "I found adefensewound whereshehad
raised her hand inanattempt to protect her facefromthevicious
onslaught." Thoughtheentry wound was inthepalm, theknifehad
apparently traveled at anangle, comingout theback of thewrist onthe
thumbside. Thepathway of theknifeapparently offered littleresistance:
AnX-ray showed no chipped bones.
Thereis aphotographof Zugibeand oneof his volunteers inthe
aforementioned Sindon article. Zugibeis dressed inaknee-lengthwhite
labcoat and is shownadjustingoneof thevital signleads affixed to the
man's chest. Thecross reaches almost to theceiling, toweringover Zugibe
and his bank of medical monitors. Thevolunteer is naked except for a
pair of gymshorts and ahearty mustache. Hewears theunconcerned,
mildly zoned-out expressionof apersonwaitingat abus stop. Neither
manappears to havebeenself-conscious about beingphotographed this
way. I think that whenyouget yourself downdeep into aproject like
this, youlosesight of how odd youmust appear to therest of theworld.
No doubt PierreBarbet saw nothingstrangeor wronginusingcadavers
meant for theteachingof anatomy as subjects inasimulated crucifixion
to proveto doubters that themiraculous Shroud of Turinwas for real. "It
is indeed essential," hewroteintheintroductiontoA Doctor at Calvary,
"that we, who aredoctors, anatomists, and physiologists, that wewho
know, should proclaimabroad theterribletruththat our poor science
should no longer beused merely to alleviatethepains of our brothers,
but should fulfill agreater office, that of enlighteningthem."
To my mind thereis no "greater office" thanthat of "alleviatingthepains
of our brothers"certainly not theofficeof religious propaganda. Some
people, as we'reabout to see, manageto alleviatetheir brothers' pains
and sufferings whileutterly dead. If therewereever acadaver eligiblefor
sainthood, it would not beour SpaldingGray uponthecross, it would be
theseguys: thebrain-dead, beating-heart organdonors that comeand go
inour hospitals every day.
Footnotes:
[1] Is it really blood ontheShroud of Turin? Accordingto forensictests
doneby thelateAlanAdler, achemist and aShroudie, it most certainly
is. Accordingto JoeNickell, author of Inquest ontheShroudof Turin, it
most certainly isn't. InanarticleontheWebsiteof thefamed debunking
group Committeefor theScientificInvestigationof Claims of the
Paranormal, Nickell says forensictests of the"blood" haveshownit to be
amixtureof red ocher and vermiliontemperapaint.
8
HowtoKnowIf You'reDead
Beating-heartcadavers, liveburial, andthescientificsearchfor
thesoul
A patient ontheway to surgery travels at twicethespeed of apatient on
theway to themorgue. Gurneys that ferry thelivingthroughhospital
corridors moveforward inanauraof purposeand push, flanked by
caregivers withlongstrides and set faces, steadyingIVs, pumpingambu
bags, barrelinginto doubledoors. A gurney withacadaver commands
no urgency. It is wheeled by asingleperson, calmly and withlittlenotice,
likeashoppingcart.
For this reason, I thought I would beableto tell whenthedead woman
was wheeled past. I havebeenstandingaround at thenurses' stationon
oneof thesurgery floors of theUniversity of Californiaat SanFrancisco
Medical Center, watchinggurneys go by and waitingfor VonPeterson,
publicaffairs manager of theCaliforniaTransplant Donor Network, and
acadaver I will call H. "There's your patient," says thechargenurse. A
commotionof turquoiselegs passes withunexpected forward-leaning
urgency.
H is uniqueinthat sheis bothadead personandapatient ontheway to
surgery. Sheis what's knownas a"beating-heart cadaver," aliveand well
everywherebut her brain. Up until artificial respirationwas developed,
therewas no suchentity; without afunctioningbrain, abody will not
breatheonits own. But hook it up to arespirator and its heart will beat,
and therest of its organs will, for amatter of days, continueto thrive.
H doesn't look or smell or feel dead. If youleaned incloseover the
gurney, youcould seeher pulsebeatinginthearteries of her neck. If you
touched her arm, youwould find it warmand resilient, likeyour own.
This is perhaps why thenurses and doctors refer to H as apatient, and
why shemakes her entranceto theOR at thecustomary presurgery clip.
Sincebraindeathis thelegal definitionof deathinthis country, H the
personis certifiably dead. But H theorgans and tissues is very much
alive. Thesetwo seemingly contradictory facts afford her anopportunity
most corpses do not have: that of extendingthelives of two or three
dyingstrangers. Over thenext four hours, H will surrender her liver,
kidneys, and heart. Oneat atime, surgeons will comeand go, takingan
organand returninginhasteto their strickenpatients. Until recently, the
process was knownamongtransplant professionals as an"organ
harvest," whichhad ajoyous, celebratory ringto it, perhaps alittletoo
joyous, as it has beenof latereplaced by themorebusinesslike"organ
recovery."
InH's case, onesurgeonwill betravelingfromUtahto recover her heart,
and another, theonerecoveringboththeliver and thekidneys, will be
takingthemtwo floors down. UCSF is amajor transplant center, and
organs removed hereoftenremaininhouse. Moretypically, atransplant
patient's surgeonwill travel fromUCSF to asmall townsomewhereto
retrievetheorganoftenfromanaccident victim, someoneyoungwith
strong, healthy organs, whosebraintook anunexpected hit. Thedoctor
does this becausetypically thereis no doctor inthat small townwith
experienceinorganrecovery. Contrary to rumors about surgically
trained thugs cuttingpeopleopeninhotel rooms and stealingtheir
kidneys, organrecovery is tricky work. If youwant to besureit's done
right, youget onaplaneand go do it yourself.
Today's abdominal recovery surgeonis named Andy Posselt. Heis
holdinganelectriccauterizingwand, whichlooks likeacheap bank pen
onacord but functions likeascalpel. Thewand bothcuts and burns, so
that as theincisionis made, any vessels that aresevered are
simultaneously melted shut. Theresult is that thereis agood deal less
bleedingand agood deal moresmokeand smell. It's not abad smell, but
simply aseared-meat sort of smell. I want to ask Dr. Posselt whether he
likes it, but I can't bringmyself to, so instead I ask whether hethinks it's
bad that I likethesmell, whichI don't really, or maybejust alittle. He
replies that it is neither bad nor good, just morbid.
I havenever beforeseenmajor surgery, only its scars. Fromthelengthof
them, I had imagined surgeons doingtheir business, takingthings out
and puttingthemin, throughanopeningmaybeeight or nineinches
long, likeawomanpokingaround for her glasses at thebottomof her
purse. Dr. Posselt begins just aboveH's pubichair and proceeds agood
two feet north, to thebaseof her neck. He's unzippingher likeaparka.
Her sternumis sawed lengthwiseso that her ribcagecanbeparted, and a
largeretractor isinstalled to pull thetwo sides of theincisionapart so
that it is now as wideas it is long. To seeher this way, held openlikea
Gladstonebag, forces aview of thehumantorso for what it basically is: a
large, sturdy container for guts.
Ontheinside, H looks very muchalive. Youcanseethepulseof her
heartbeat inher liver and all theway downher aorta. Shebleeds where
sheis cut and her organs areplump and slippery-looking. Theelectronic
beat of theheart monitor reinforces theimpressionthat this is aliving,
breathing, thrivingperson. It is strange, almost impossible, really, to
think of her as acorpse. WhenI tried to explainbeating-heart cadavers to
my stepdaughter Phoebeyesterday, it didn't makesenseto her. But if
their heart is beating, aren't they still aperson? shewanted to know. In
theend shedecided they were"akind of personyoucould play tricks on
but they wouldn't know." Which, I think, is apretty good way of
summingup most donated cadavers. Thethings that happento thedead
inlabs and ORs arelikegossip passed behind one's back. They arenot
felt or knownand so they causeno pain.
Thecontradictions and counterintuitions of thebeating-heart cadaver can
exact anemotional toll ontheintensivecareunit (ICU) staff, who must,
inthedays precedingtheharvest, not only think of patients likeH as
livingbeings, but treat and carefor themthat way as well. Thecadaver
must bemonitored around theclock and "life-saving" interventions
undertakenonits behalf. Sincethebraincanno longer regulateblood
pressureor thelevels of hormones and their releaseinto thebloodstream,
thesethings must bedoneby ICU staff, inorder to keep theorgans from
degrading. Observed agroup of CaseWesternReserveUniversity School
of Medicinephysicians inaNewEnglandJournal of Medicinearticle
entitled "Psychosocial and Ethical Implications of OrganRetrieval":
"Intensivecareunit personnel may feel confused about havingto perform
cardiopulmonary resuscitationonapatient who has beendeclared dead,
whereas a'do not resuscitate' order has beenwrittenfor alivingpatient
inthenext bed."
Theconfusionpeoplefeel over beating-heart cadavers reflects centuries
of confusionover how, exactly, to definedeath, to pinpoint theprecise
moment whenthespiritthesoul, thechi, whatever youwishto call it
has ceased to exist and all that remains is acorpse. Beforebrainactivity
could bemeasured, thestoppingof theheart had longbeenconsidered
thedefiningmoment. Inpoint of fact, thebrainsurvives for sixto ten
minutes after theheart has stopped pumpingblood to it, but this is
splittinghairs, and thedefinitionworks quitewell for themost part. The
problem, for centuries, was that doctors couldn't tell for surewhether the
heart had ceased to beat or whether they weremerely havingtrouble
hearingit. Thestethoscopewasn't invented until themid-1800s, and the
early models amounted to littlemorethanasort of medical ear trumpet.
Incases wheretheheartbeat andpulseareespecially faintdrownings,
stroke, certaintypes of narcoticpoisoningeventhemost scrupulous
physicianhad difficulty telling, and patients rantherisk of being
dispatched to theundertaker beforethey'd actually expired.
To allay patients' considerablefears of liveburial, as well as their own
insecurities, eighteenth- and nineteenth-century physicians devised a
divertingroster of methods for verifyingdeath. Welshphysicianand
medical historianJanBondesoncollected dozens of themfor his witty
and admirably researched bookBuriedAlive. Thetechniques seemed to
fall into two categories: thosethat purported to rousetheunconscious
patient withunspeakablepain, and thosethat threw inameasureof
humiliation. Thesoles of thefeet weresliced withrazors, and needles
jammed beneathtoenails. Ears wereassaulted withbuglefanfares and
"hideous Shrieks and excessiveNoises." OneFrenchclergyman
recommended thrustingared-hot poker up what Bondesongenteelly
refers to as "therear passage." A Frenchphysicianinvented aset of
nipplepincers specifically for thepurposeof reanimation. Another
invented abagpipelikecontraptionfor administeringtobacco enemas,
whichhedemonstrated enthusiastically oncadavers inthemorgues of
Paris. Theseventeenth-century anatomist JacobWinslow entreated his
colleagues to pour boilingSpanishwaxonpatients' foreheads and warm
urineinto their mouths. OneSwedishtract onthematter suggested that a
crawlinginsect beput into thecorpse's ear. For simplicity and originality,
though, nothingquitematches thethrustingof "asharp pencil" up the
presumed cadaver's nose.
Insomecases, it is unclear who was themorehumiliated, patient or
doctor. FrenchphysicianJeanBaptisteVincent Labordewroteat great
lengthof his techniqueof rhythmictongue-pulling, whichwas to be
carried out for no less thanthreehours followingthesuspected death.
(Helater invented ahand-cranked tongue-pullingmachine, whichmade
thetask less unpleasant thoughonly marginally less tedious.) Another
Frenchphysicianinstructed doctors to stick oneof thepatient's fingers in
their ear, to listenfor thebuzzingsound produced by involuntary muscle
movement.
Not all that surprisingly, noneof thesetechniques gained wide
acceptance, and most doctors felt that putrefactionwas theonly reliable
way to verify that someonewas dead. This meant that corpses had to sit
around thehouseor thedoctor's officefor two or threedays until the
telltalesigns and smells could bedetected, aprospect perhaps evenless
appealingthangivingthemenemas. And so it was that special buildings,
called waitingmortuaries, werebuilt for thepurposeof warehousingthe
molderingdead. Thesewerehuge, ornatehalls, commoninGermany in
the1800s. Somehad separatehalls for maleand femalecadavers, as
though, evenindeath, mencouldn't betrusted to comport themselves
respectably inthepresenceof alady. Others weresegregated by class,
withthewell-to-do deceased payingextrato rot inluxury surroundings.
Attendants wereemployed to keep watchfor signs of life, whichthey did
viaasystemof strings linkingthefingers of corpses to abell[1] or, inone
case, thebellows of alargeorgan, so that any motiononthepart of the
deceased would alert theattendant, who was posted, owingto the
considerablestench, inaseparateroom. As years passed and not asingle
resident was saved, theestablishments beganto close, and by 1940, the
waitingmortuary had gonetheway of thenipplepincer and thetongue
puller.
If only thesoul could beseenas it left thebody, or somehow measured.
That way, determiningwhendeathhad occurred would beasimple
matter of scientificobservation. This almost becameareality, at thehands
of aDr. DuncanMacdougall, of Haverhill, Massachusetts. In1907,
Macdougall beganaseries of experiments seekingto determinewhether
thesoul could beweighed. Sixdyingpatients, oneafter another, were
installed onaspecial bed inMacdougall's officethat sat uponaplatform
beamscalesensitiveto two-tenths of anounce. By watchingfor changes
intheweight of ahumanbeingbefore, and intheact of, dying, hesought
to provethat thesoul had substance. Macdougall's report of the
experiment was published intheApril 1907issueof AmericanMedicine,
considerably liveningup theusual assortment of anginaand urethritis
papers. Below is Macdougall describingthefirst subject's death. Hewas
nothingif not thorough.
At the end of three hours and forty minutes he
expired and suddenly coincident with death the
beam end dropped with an audible stroke
hitting against the lower limiting bar and
remaining there with no rebound. The loss was
ascertained to be three-fourths of an ounce.
This loss of weight could not be due to
evaporation of respiratory moisture and sweat,
because that had already been determined to go
on, in his case, at the rate of one-sixtieth
of an ounce per minute, whereas this loss was
sudden and large.
The bowels did not move; and if they had moved
the weight would still have remained upon the
bed except for a slow loss by the evaporation
of moisture, depending, of course, upon the
fluidity of the feces. The bladder evacuated
one or two drams of urine. This remained upon
the bed and could only have influenced the
weight by slow gradual evaporation and
therefore in no way could account for the
sudden loss.
There remained but one more channel of loss to
explore, the expiration of all but the
residual air in the lungs. Getting upon the
bed myself, my colleague put the beam at
actual balance. Inspiration and expiration of
air as forcibly as possible by me had no
effect upon the beams.
After watchinganother fivepatients shed similar weight as they died,
Macdougall moved onto dogs. Fifteendogs breathed their last without
registeringasignificant drop inweight, whichMacdougall took as
corroboratingevidence, for heassumed, inkeepingwithhis religious
doctrine, that animals haveno souls. WhileMacdougall's humansubjects
werepatients of his, thereis no explanationof how hecameto beinthe
possessionof fifteendyingdogs inso short aspanof time. Barringalocal
outbreak of distemper, oneis forced to conjecturethat thegood doctor
calmly poisoned fifteenhealthy canines for his littleexerciseinbiological
theology.
Macdougall's paper sparked anacrid debateintheAmericanMedicine
letters column. Fellow Massachusetts doctor Augustus P. Clarketook
Macdougall to task for havingfailed to takeinto account thesuddenrise
inbody temperatureat deathwhentheblood stops beingair-cooled via
its circulationthroughthelungs. Clarkeposited that thesweatingand
moistureevaporationcaused by this riseinbody temperaturewould
account bothfor thedrop inthemen's weight and thedogs' failureto
register one. (Dogs cool themselves by panting, not sweating.)
Macdougall rebutted that without circulation, no blood canbebrought to
thesurfaceof theskinand thus no surfacecoolingoccurs. Thedebate
went onfromtheMay issueall theway throughDecember, whereuponI
lost thethread, my eyehavingstrayed across thepageto "A Few Points
intheAncient History of Medicineand Surgery," by Harry H. Grigg,
M.D. It is withthanks to Harry H. Griggthat I cannow hold forthat
cocktail parties onthehistory of hemorrhoids, gonorrhea, circumcision,
and thespeculum.[2]
Withimprovements instethoscopes and gains inmedical knowledge,
physicians beganto trust themselves tobeableto tell whenaheart had
stopped, and medical sciencecameto agreethat this was thebest way to
determinewhether apatient had checked out for good or was merely
downthehall gettingice. Placingtheheart center stageinour definition
of deathserved to giveit, by proxy, astarringroleinour definitionof life
and thesoul, or spirit or self. It has longhad this anyway, as evidenced
by ahundred thousand lovesongs and sonnets and I bumper stickers.
Theconcept of thebeating-heart cadaver, grounded inabelief that the
self resides inthebrainand thebrainalone, delivered aphilosophical
curveball. Thenotionof theheart as fuel pump took somegettingused
to.
Theseat-of-the-soul debatehas beenongoingsomefour thousand years.
It started out not as aheart-versus-braindebate, but as heart-versus-liver.
Theancient Egyptians weretheoriginal heart guys. They believed that
thekaresided intheheart. Kawas theessenceof theperson: spirit,
intelligence, feelings and passions, humor, grudges, annoyingtelevision
themesongs, all thethings that makeapersonapersonand not a
nematode. Theheart was theonly organleft insideamummified corpse,
for amanneeded his kaintheafterlife. Thebrainheclearly did not need:
cadaver brains werescrambled and pulled out inglobs, throughthe
nostrils, by way of ahooked bronzeneedle. Thenthey werethrown
away. (Theliver, stomach, intestines, and lungs weretakenout of the
body, but kept: They werestored inearthenjars insidethetomb, onthe
assumption, I guess, that it is better to overpack thanto leavesomething
behind, particularly whenpackingfor theafterlife.)
TheBabylonians weretheoriginal liver guys, believingtheorganto be
thesourceof humanemotionand spirit. TheMesopotamians played both
sides of theargument, assigningemotionto theliver and intellect to the
heart. Theseguys clearly marched to thebeat of afreethinkingdrummer,
for they assigned afurther portionof thesoul (cunning) to thestomach.
Similar freethinkers throughout history haveincluded Descartes, who
wrotethat thesoul could befound inthewalnut-sized pineal gland, and
theAlexandriananatomist Strato, who decided it lived "behind the
eyebrows."
Withtheriseof classical Greece, thesoul debateevolved into themore
familiar heart-versus-brain, theliver havingbeendemoted to an
accessory role.[3] ThoughPythagorus and Aristotleviewed theheart as
theseat of thesoulthesourceof "vital force" necessary to liveand
growthey believed thereto beasecondary, "rational" soul, or mind,
located inthebrain. Plato agreed that boththeheart and thebrainwere
soul terrain, but assigned primacy to thebrain. Hippocrates, for his part,
seemed confused (or perhaps it's me). Henoted theeffects of acrushed
brainuponspeechand intelligence, yet referred to it as amucus-secreting
gland, and wroteelsewherethat intelligenceand "heat," whichhesaid
controlled thesoul, werelocated intheheart.
Theearly anatomists weren't ableto shed muchlight ontheissue, as the
soul wasn't somethingyoucould seeor set your scalpel to. Lackingany
scientificmeans of pinningdownthesoul, thefirst anatomists settled on
generativeprimacy: What shows up first intheembryo must bemost
important and thereforemost likely to hold thesoul. Thetroublewith
this particular avenueof learning, knownas ensoulment, was that early
first-trimester humanembryos weredifficult to comeby. Classical
scholars of ensoulment, Aristotleamongthem, attempted to get around
theproblemby examiningthelarger, moreeasily obtained poultry
embryo. To quoteVivianNutton, author of "TheAnatomy of theSoul in
Early RenaissanceMedicine" inTheHumanEmbryo, "Analogies drawn
fromtheinspectionof hen's eggs foundered ontheobjectionthat man
was not achicken."
Accordingto Nutton, themanwho cameclosest to actually examininga
humanembryo was ananatomist named Realdo Colombo, who, at the
behest of theRenaissancephilosopher Girolamo Pontano,[4] dissected a
one-month-old fetus. Colombo returned fromhis labwhichinall
likelihood was not equipped withamicroscope, as thedevicehad barely
beeninventedbearingthefascinatingif flat-out wrongnews that the
liver formed beforetheheart.
Livingamid our culture's heart-centricrhetoric, thevalentines and the
pop songlyrics, it is hard to imagineassigningspiritual or emotional
sovereignty to theliver. Part of thereasonfor its exalted status amongthe
early anatomists was that they erroneously believed it to betheoriginof
all thebody's blood vessels. (WilliamHarvey's discovery of the
circulatory systemdealt theliver-as-seat-of-the-soul theory afinal fatal
blow; Harvey, youwill not besurprised to hear, believed that thesoul
was carried intheblood.) I think it was somethingelsetoo. Thehuman
liver is aboss-lookingorgan. It's glossy, aerodynamic, Olympian. It looks
likesculpture, not guts. I'vebeenmarvelingat H's liver, currently being
prepped for its upcomingjourney. Theorgans around it areamorphous
and unappealing. Stomachs areflappy, indistinct; intestines, chaoticand
soupy. Kidneys skulk under bundles of fat. But theliver gleams. It looks
engineered and carefully wrought. Its flanks haveasubtlecurve, likethe
horizonseenfromspace. If I wereanancient Babylonian, I guess I might
think God splashed downheretoo.
Dr. Posselt is isolatingthevessels and connectors ontheliver and
kidneys, preppingthemfor theorgans' removal. Theheart will go first
hearts remainviableonly four to sixhours; kidneys, by contrast, canbe
held incold storageeighteenor eventwenty-four hoursbut theheart
recovery surgeonhasn't arrived. He's flyinginfromUtah.
Minutes later anurseputs her head throughtheOR doors. "Utah's inthe
building." Peoplewho work inORs talk to eachother inthetruncated,
slang-heavy manner of pilots and flight control types. Thescheduleon
theOR wall lists today's proceduretheremoval of four vital organs in
preparationfor death-defyingtransplantationinto threedesperate
humanbeingsas "Recovery abdm(liv/kid x2) ." A few minutes ago,
someonemadereferenceto "thepanky," meaning"thepancreas."
"Utah's changing."
Utahis agentle-lookingmanof perhaps fifty, withgrayinghair and a
thin, tanned face. Hehas finished changingand anurseis snappingon
his gloves. Helooks calm, competent, evenalittlebored. (This just slays
me. Themanis about to cut abeatingheart out of ahumanchest.) The
heart has beenhiddenuntil now behind thepericardium, athick
protectivesacwhichDr. Posselt now cuts away.
Thereis her heart. I'venever seenonebeating. I had no ideathey moved
so much. Youput your hand onyour heart and youpicturesomething
pulsingslightly but basically still, likeahand onadesktop tapping
Morsecode. This thingis goingwild inthere. It's amixing-machinepart,
astoat squirminginits burrow, analienlifeformthat's just wona
PontiaconThePriceIsRight. If youwerelookingfor thehomeof the
humanbody's animatingspirit, I could imaginebelievingit to behere, for
thesimplereasonthat it is thehumanbody's most animated organ.
Utahplaces clamps onthearteries of H's heart, stanchingtheflow of
blood inpreparationfor thecuts. Youcantell by thevital signs monitor
that somethingmonumental is happeningto her body. TheECG has quit
drawingbarbed wireand begunto look likeatoddler's Etch-a-Sketch
scrawls. A quick geyser of blood splashes Utah's glasses, thensubsides. If
H weren't dead, she'd bedyingnow.
This is themoment, reported theCaseWesternReservegroup who
interviewed transplant professionals, whenOR staff havebeenknownto
report sensinga"presence" or "spirit" intheroom. I try to raisethemental
aerial and keep myself opento thevibes. Of courseI haveno ideahow to
do this. WhenI was six, I tried as hard as I could to will my brother's GI
Joeto walk across theroomto him. This is how theseextrasensory deals
go withme: Nothingcomes of it, and thenI feel stupid for trying.
Hereis thedeeply unnervingthing: Theheart, cut fromthechest, keeps
beatingonits own. Did Poeknow this whenhewrote"TheTell-Tale
Heart"? So animated arethesefreestandinghearts that surgeonshave
beenknownto drop them. "Wewashthemoff and they do just fine,"
replied New York heart transplant surgeonMehmet Oz whenI asked
himabout it. I imagined theheart slippingacross thelinoleum, thelooks
exchanged, therushto retrieveit and cleanit off, likeabratwurst that's
rolled off theplateinarestaurant kitchen. I ask about thesethings, I
think, becauseof aneed to makehumanwhat otherwiseverges onthe
godlike: takingliveorgans frombodies and makingthemliveinanother
body. I also asked whether thesurgeons ever set asidetheold, damaged
hearts of transplant recipients for themto keep. Surprisingly (to me,
anyway), only afew express aninterest inseeingor keepingtheir hearts.
Oz told methat ahumanheart removed fromitsblood supply can
continuebeatingfor as longas aminuteor two, until thecells beginto
starvefromlack of oxygen. It was phenomenalikethis that threw
eighteenth-century medical philosophers into atizzy: If thesoul was in
thebrainand not theheart, as many believed at that time, how could the
heart keep beatingoutsidethebody, cut off fromthesoul?
Robert Whytt was particularly obsessed withthematter. Beginningin
1761, Whytt was thepersonal physicianto His Majesty theKingof
England, whenever His Majesty traveled northto Scotland, whichwasn't
all that often.[5] Whenhewasn't busy withHis Majesty's bladder stones
and gout, hecould befound inhis lab, cuttingthehearts out of livefrogs
and chickens and, inonememorableinstancethat youhopefor Whytt's
sakeHis Majesty never got wind of, dribblingsalivaonto theheart of a
decapitated pigeoninanattempt to start it up again. Whytt was oneof a
handful of inquiringmedical minds who attempted to usescientific
experimentationto pindownthelocationand properties of thesoul. You
could seefromhis chapter onthetopicinhis 1751Worksthat hewasn't
inclined to comedownoneither sideof theheart-versus-braindebate.
Theheart couldn't betheseat of thesoul, for whenWhytt cut theheart
out of aneel, theremainder of thecreaturewas ablefor sometimeto
moveabout "withgreat force."
Thebrainalso seemed anunlikely homeport for theanimatingspirit, for
animals had beenobserved to get onquitewell for asurprisinglengthof
timewithout thebenefit of abrain. Whytt wroteof theexperiment of a
mannamed Redi, who found that "aland tortoise, whosebrainhe
extracted by aholemadeinits skull, inthebeginningof November, lived
onto themiddleof May following."[6] Whytt himself claimed to have
beenable, "by theinfluenceof warmth," to keep theheart of achick
beatinginits chest for two hours after its head was "clipped off witha
pair of scissors." Andthentherewas theexperiment of aDr. Kaau. Wrote
Whytt: "A youngcock whosehead Dr. Kaausuddenly cut off as hewas
runningwithgreat eagerness to his food, went oninastraight line23
Rhinland feet, and would havegonefarther had henot met withan
obstaclewhichstoppt him." Theseweretryingtimes for poultry.
Whytt beganto suspect that thesoul did not haveaset restingplacein
thebody, but was instead diffused throughout. So that whenyoucut off
alimbor took out anorgan, aportionof thesoul camealongwithit, and
would serveto keep it animated for atime. That would explainwhy the
eel's heart continued beatingoutsideits body. And why, as Whytt wrote,
citinga"well-knownaccount," the"heart of amalefactor, whichhaving
beencut out of his body and throwninto thefire, leapt up several times
to aconsiderableheight."
Whytt probably hadn't heard of chi, but his concept of theubiquitous
soul has muchincommonwiththecenturies-old Easternmedical
philosophy of circulatinglifeenergy. ("Chi" is also spelled "qi.") Chi is the
stuff acupuncturists reroutewithneedles and unscrupulous healers claim
to harness to curecancer and knock peopleoff their feet infront of TV
cameras. Dozens of scientificstudies purportingto document theeffects
of this circulatinglifeenergy havebeendoneinAsia, many of them
abstracted intheQigongResearchDatabase, whichI browsed several
years ago whileresearchingastory onqi. All across Chinaand Japan,
qigong("gong" means cultivation) healers arestandinginlabs, passing
their palms over petri dishes of tumor cells, ulcer-plagued rats ("distance
betweenrat and palmof hand is 40cm"), and, inoneparticularly surreal
bit of science, afoot-longsectionof humanintestine. Few of thesestudies
weredonewithcontrols, not becausetheresearchers werelax, but
becausethat's not traditionally how Easternscienceis done.
Theonly Western-stylepeer-reviewed researchattemptingto provethe
existenceof lifeenergy was doneby anorthopedicsurgeonand
biomedical electronics expert named Robert Becker, who became
interested inchi followingNixon's visit to China. Nixon, impressed with
what hesaw duringavisit to atraditional Chineseclinic, had urged the
National Institutes of Healthtofund somestudies. Oneof themwas
Becker's. Operatingonthehypothesis that chi might beanelectrical
current separatefromthepulses of thebody's nervous system, Becker set
about measuringtransmissionalongsomeof thebody's acupuncture
meridians. Indeed, Becker reported, theselines transmitted current more
efficiently.
Someyears earlier, New Jersey's ownThomas Edisoncameup with
another variationontheall-through-the-body concept of thesoul. Edison
believed that livingbeings wereanimated and controlled by "lifeunits,"
smaller-than-microscopicentities that inhabited eachand every cell and,
upondeath, evacuated thepremises, floated around awhile, and
eventually reassembled to animateanew personalitypossibly another
man, possibly anocelot or aseacucumber. Likeother scientifically
trained but mildly loopy[7] soul speculators, Edisonstroveto provehis
theory throughexperimentation. InhisDiaryandSundryObservations,
Edisonmakes references to aset of plans for a"scientificapparatus"
designed to communicatewiththesesoullikeagglomerations of lifeunits.
"Why should personalities inanother existenceor spherewastetheir time
workingalittletriangular pieceof wood over aboard withcertain
letteringonit?" hewrote, referringto theOuijaboards theninfashion
amongspirit mediums. Edisonfigured that thelife-unit entities would
put forthsomesort of "ethericenergy," and oneneed only amplify that
energy to facilitatecommunication.
Accordingto anApril 1963articleinajournal called Fate, sent to meby
Edison's tireless biographer Paul Israel, Edisondied beforehis apparatus
could bebuilt, but rumors of aset of blueprints persisted for years. One
fineday in1941, thestory goes, aninventor for General Electricnamed J.
Gilbert Wright decided to usetheclosest approximationof Edison's
machineasanceand amediumto contact thegreat inventor and ask
himwho had theplans. "Youmight tryRalphFascht of 165Pinehurst
Avenue, New York, Bill Gunther of Consolidated Edison; his officeis in
theEmpireStateBuilding, or perhaps, best of all, EdithEllis, 152W. 58th
St.," camethereply, confirmingnot only thepersistenceof personality
after deathbut thepersistenceof thepocket address book.
Wright tracked downEdithEllis, who sent himto aCommander Wynne,
inBrooklyn, said to haveatracingof theblueprints. Themysterious
Commander Wynnenot only had theplans but claimed to have
assembled and tried out thedevice. Alas, hecould not makeit work, and
neither could Wright. You, too, canbuild oneand takeit for aspin,
becausetheFatearticleincludes acarefully labeled ("aluminumtrumpet,"
"wood plug," "aerial") drawingof thecontraption. Wright and an
associate, Harry Gardner, went onto invent their owndevice, an
"ectoplasmiclarynx," consistingof amicrophone, aloudspeaker, a
"sound box," and acooperativemediumwithgreat quantities of patience.
Wright used the"larynx" tocontact Edison, who, apparently having
nothingbetter to do withhis afterlifethanchat withthenutters, offered
helpful tips onhow to improvethemachine.
Whilewe'reonthetopicof supposedly straight-ahead but secretly loopy
entities who'vegottenhungup inthecellular soul area, let metell you
about aproject funded and carried out by theU.S. Army. From1981to
1984, theU.S. Army's Intelligenceand Security Command (INSCOM)
was runby aMajor General Albert N. StubblebineIII. At somepoint
duringhis tenure, Stubblebinecommissioned asenior aideto try to
replicateanexperiment doneby CleveBaxter, inventor of theliedetector,
whichpurported to show that thecells of ahumanbeing, removed from
that humanbeing's being, wereinsomeway still connected to, and able
to communicatewith, themother ship. Inthestudy, cells weretaken
fromtheinsideof avolunteer's cheek, centrifuged, and put inatest tube.
A readout fromelectrodes inthetest tubewas runthroughasensor
hooked up to thereadout onaliedetector, whichmeasures emotional
excitationviaheart rate, blood pressure, sweating, etc. (How you
measurethevital signs onaslurry of cheek cells is beyond me, but this is
themilitary and they know all manner of top-secret things.) So the
volunteer was escorted to aroomdownthehall fromhis cheek cells and
shownadisturbingvideotapeof unspecified violent scenes. Thecells, it is
said, registered astateof extremeagitationwhiletheir owner was
watchingthetape. Theexperiment was repeated at different distances
over thecourseof two days. Evenas far away as fifty miles, thecells felt
theman's pain.
I wanted very badly to seethereport of this experiment, so I called
INSCOM. I was referred to agentlemaninthehistory section. First the
historiansaid that INSCOM didn't keep records back that far. I didn't
need any of theman's cheek cells to know hewas lying. This is theU.S.
government. They keep records of everything, intriplicateand fromthe
dawnof time.
Thehistorianexplained that what General Stubblebinehad been
primarily interested inwas not whether cells containsomesort of life
unit or soul or cellular memory, but thephenomenonof remoteviewing,
whereinyoucansit at your desk and call up images remotefromyouin
timeand space, likeyour missingcufflink or Iraqi ammunitiondepots or
General Manuel Noriega's secret hideaway. (Therewas actually anArmy
RemoteViewingTeamfor awhile; theCIA also contracted remote
viewers.) WhenStubblebineretired fromthearmy heserved as chairman
of theboard at acompany called PsiTech, fromwhichyoucanhire
remoteviewers to help youwithall your remote-locatingneeds.
Forgiveme. I havewandered far afield frommy topic. But wherever it is
that I amand however I feel about it, I know that all cheek cells
belongingto mewithinfifty miles of herefeel thesameway.
Themodernmedical community is onthewholequiteunequivocal about
thebrainbeingtheseat of thesoul, thechief commander of lifeand
death. It is similarly unequivocal about thefact that peoplelikeH are,
despitethehoochy-koochy goingonbehind their sternums, dead. We
now know that theheart keeps beatingonits ownnot becausethesoul is
inthere, but becauseit contains its ownbioelectricpower source,
independent of thebrain. As soonas H's heart is installed insomeone
else's chest and that person's blood begins to runthroughit, it will start
beatinganewwithno signals fromtherecipient's brain.
Thelegal community took alittlelonger thanthephysicians to come
around to theconcept of braindeath. It was 1968whentheJournal of the
AmericanMedical Associationpublished apaper by theAd HocCommittee
of theHarvard Medical School to ExaminetheDefinitionof BrainDeath
advocatingthat irreversiblecomabethenew criterionfor death, and
clearingtheethical footpathfor organtransplantation. It wasn't until 1974
that thelaw beganto catchup. What forced theissuewas abizarre
murder trial inOakland, California.
Thekiller, Andrew Lyons, shot amaninthehead inSeptember 1973and
left himbrain-dead. WhenLyons's attorneys found out that thevictim's
family had donated his heart for transplantation, they tried to usethis in
Lyons's defense: If theheart was still beatingat thetimeof surgery, they
maintained, thenhow could it bethat Lyons had killed himtheday
before? They tried to convincethejury that, technically speaking,
Andrew Lyons hadn't murdered theman, theorganrecovery surgeon
had. AccordingtoStanford University heart transplant pioneer Norman
Shumway, who testified inthecase, thejudgewould havenoneof it. He
informed thejury that theaccepted criteriafor deathwerethoseset forth
by theHarvard committee, and that that should informtheir decision.
(Photographs of thevictim's brains "oozingfromhis skull," to quotethe
SanFranciscoChronicle, probably didn't help Lyons's case.) Intheend,
Lyons was convicted of murder. Based ontheoutcomeof thecase,
Californiapassed legislationmakingbraindeaththelegal definitionof
death. Other states quickly followed suit.
Andrew Lyons's defenseattorney wasn't thefirst personto cry murder
whenatransplant surgeonremoved aheart fromabrain-dead patient. In
theearliest days of heart transplants, Shumway, thefirst U.S. surgeonto
carry out theprocedure, was continually harangued by thecoroner in
SantaClaraCounty, wherehepracticed. Thecoroner didn't accept the
brain-deathconcept of deathand threatened that if Shumway went
ahead withhis plans to removeabeatingheart fromabrain-dead person
and useit to saveanother person's life, hewould initiatemurder charges.
Thoughthecoroner had no legal ground to stand onand Shumway went
ahead anyway, thepress gaveit avigorous chew. New York heart
transplant surgeonMehmet Oz recalls theBrooklyndistrict attorney
around that timemakingthesamethreat. "Hesaid he'd indict and arrest
any heart transplant surgeonwho went into his boroughand harvested
anorgan."
Theworry, explained Oz, was that someday someonewho wasn't
actually brain-dead was goingto havehis heart cut out. Thereexist
certainraremedical conditions that canlook, to theuntrained or
negligent eye, alot likebraindeath, and thelegal types didn't trust the
medical types to get it right. To avery, very small degree, they had
reasonto worry. Take, for example, theconditionknownas "locked-in
state." Inoneformof thedisease, thenerves, fromeyeballs to toes,
suddenly and rather swiftly drop out of commission, withtheresult that
thebody is completely paralyzed, whilethemind remains normal. The
patient canhear what's beingsaid but has no way of communicatingthat
he's still inthere, and that no, it's definitely not okay to givehis organs
away for transplant. Inseverecases, eventhemuscles that contract to
changethesizeof thepupils no longer function. This is bad news, for a
commontest of braindeathis to shinealight inthepatient's eyes to
check for thereflexivecontractionof thepupils. Typically, victims of
locked-instaterecover fully, provided no onehas mistakenly wheeled
themoff to theOR to takeout their heart.
Likethespecter of liveburial that plagued theFrenchand German
citizenry inthe1800s, thefear of liveorganharvestingis almost
completely without foundation. A simpleEEG will prevent misdiagnosis
of thelocked-instateand conditions likeit.
Onarational level, most peoplearecomfortablewiththeconcept of brain
deathand organdonation. But onanemotional level, they may havea
harder timeacceptingit, particularly whenthey arebeingasked to accept
it by atransplant counselor who would likethemto okay theremoval of
afamily member's beatingheart. Fifty-four percent of families asked
refuseconsent. "They can't deal withthefear, however irrational, that the
trueend of their loved onewill comewhentheheart is removed," says
Oz. That they, ineffect, will havekilled him.
Evenheart transplant surgeons sometimes havetroubleacceptingthe
notionthat theheart is nothingmorethanapump. WhenI asked Oz
wherehethought thesoul resided, hesaid, "I'll confideinyouthat I don't
think it's all inthebrain. I haveto believethat inmany ways thecoreof
our existenceis inour heart." Does that meanhethinks thebrain-dead
patient isn't dead? "There's no questionthat theheart without abrainis
of no value. But lifeand deathis not abinary system." It's acontinuum. It
makes sense, for many reasons, to draw thelegal lineat braindeath, but
that doesn't meanit's really aline. "Inbetweenlifeand deathis astateof
near-death, or pseudo-life. And most peopledon't want what's in
between."
If theheart of abrain-dead heart donor does containsomethingloftier
thantissueand blood, somevestigeof thespirit, thenonecould imagine
that this vestigemight travel alongwiththeheart and set up
housekeepinginthepersonwho receives it. Oz oncegot aletter froma
transplant patient who, shortly after receivinghis new heart, beganto
experiencewhat hecould only imaginewas somesort of contact withthe
consciousness of its previous owner. Thepatient, Michael "Med-O"
Whitson, gavepermissionto quotetheletter:
I write all this with respect for the
possibility that rather than some kind of
contact with the consciousness of my donor's
heart, these are merely hallucinations from
the medications or my own projections. I know
this is a very slippery slope.
What came to me in the first contact.was the
horror of dying. The utter suddenness, shock,
and surprise of it all.The feeling of being
ripped off and the dread of dying before your
time.This and two other incidents are by far
the most terrifying experiences I have ever
had.
What came to me on the second occasion was my
donor's experience of having his heart being
cut out of his chest and transplanted. There
was a profound sense of violation by a
mysterious, omnipotent outside force.
The third episode was quite different than
the previous two. This time the consciousness
of my donor's heart was in the present
tense.He was struggling to figure out where
he was, even what he was.It was as if none of
your senses worked.An extremely frightening
awareness of total dislocation.As if you are
reaching with your hands to grasp
somethingbut every time you reach forward
your fingers end up only clutching thin air.
Of course, onemannamed Med-O does not ascientificinquiry make. A
step inthat directionis astudy carried out in1991by ateamof Viennese
surgeons and psychiatrists. They interviewed forty-sevenheart
transplant patients about whether they had noticed any changes intheir
personality that they thought weredueto theinfluenceof thenew heart
and its former owner. Forty-four of theforty-sevensaid no, althoughthe
authors, intheViennesepsychoanalytictradition, took pains to point out
that many of thesepeopleresponded to thequestionwithhostility or
jokes, which, inFreudiantheory, would indicatesomelevel of denial
about theissue.
Theexperiences of thethreepatients who answered yes weredecidedly
moreprosaicthanwereWhitson's. Thefirst was aforty-five-year-old
manwho had received theheart of aseventeen-year-old boy and told the
researchers, "I loveto put onearphones and play loud music, somethingI
never did before. A different car, agood stereothosearemy dreams
now." Theother two wereless specific. Onesaid simply that theperson
who had owned his heart had beenacalmpersonand that thesefeelings
of calmhad been"passed on" to him; another felt that hewas livingtwo
people's lives, replyingto questions with"we" instead of "I," but offered
no details about thenewly acquired personality or what sort of musiche
enjoyed.
For juicy details, wemust turnto Paul Pearsall, theauthor of abook
called TheHeart'sCode(and another called Super Marital Sexand one
called Superimmunity). Pearsall interviewed 140heart transplant patients
and presented quotes fromfiveof themas evidencefor theheart's
"cellular memory" and its influenceonrecipients of donated hearts. There
was thewomanwho got theheart of agay robber who was shot inthe
back, and suddenly begandressinginamorefemininemanner and
getting"shootingpains" inher back. Therewas another renditionof the
middle-aged manwithateenagemaleheart who now feels compelled to
"crank up thestereo and play loud rock-and-roll music"whichI had
quickly cometo seeas theurbanmythof heart transplantation. My out-
and-out favoritewas thewomanwho got aprostitute's heart and
suddenly beganrentingX-rated videos, demandingsexwithher husband
every night, and performingstrip teases for him. Of course, if thewoman
knew that her new heart had comefromaprostitute, this might have
caused thechanges inher behavior. Pearsall doesn't mentionwhether the
womanknew of her donor's occupation(or, for that matter, whether he'd
sent her acopy of Super Marital Sex beforetheinterview).
Pearsall is not adoctor, or not, at least, oneof themedical variety. Heis a
doctor of thevariety that gets aPh.D. and attaches it to his nameonself-
help book covers. I found his testimonials iffy as evidenceof any sort of
"cellular" memory, based as they areoncrudeand sometimes absurd
stereotypes: that womenbecomeprostitutes becausethey want to have
sexall day long, that gay mengay robbers, no lessliketo dress in
feminineclothing. But bear inmind that I am, to quoteitem13of
Pearsall's Heart Energy AmplitudeTest, "cynical and distrustingof
others' motives."
Mehmet Oz, thetransplant surgeonI spokewith, also got curious about
thephenomenonof heart transplant patients' claimingto experience
memories belongingto their donors. "Therewas this onefellow," hetold
me, "who said, 'I know who gavemethis heart.' Hegavemeadetailed
descriptionof ayoungblack womanwho died inacar accident. 'I see
myself inthemirror withblood onmy faceand I tasteFrenchfries inmy
mouth. I seethat I'mblack and I was inthis accident.' It spooked me,"
says Oz, "and so I went back and checked. Thedonor was anelderly
whitemale." Did hehaveother patients who-claimed to experiencetheir
donor's memories or to know somethingspecificabout their donor's life?
Hedid. "They'reall wrong."
After I spoketo Oz, I tracked downthreemorearticles onthe
psychological consequences of havingsomeoneelse's heart stitched into
your chest. Fully half of all transplant patients, I found out, develop
postoperativepsychological problems of somesort. Rauschand Kneen
described amanutterly terrified by theprospect of thetransplant
surgery, fearingthat ingivingup his heart hewould losehis soul.
Another paper presented thecaseof apatient who becameconvinced
that hehad beengivenahen's heart. No mentionwas madeof why he
might havecometo believethis or whether hehad beenexposed to the
writings of Robert Whytt, whichactually might haveprovided some
solace, pointingout, as they do, that achickenheart canbemadeto beat
onfor several hours intheevent of decapitationalways aplus.
Theworry that onewill takeontraits of theheart donor is quitecommon,
particularly whenpatients havereceived, or think that they have, aheart
fromadonor of adifferent gender or sexual orientation. Accordingto a
paper by James Tabler and Robert Frierson, recipients oftenwonder
whether thedonor "was promiscuous or oversexed, homosexual or
bisexual, excessively masculineor feminineor afflicted withsomesort of
sexual dysfunction." They spoketo amanwho fantasized that his donor
had had asexual "reputation" and said hehad no choicebut to liveup to
it. Rauschand Kneendescribeaforty-two-year-old firefighter who
worried that his new heart, whichhad belonged to awoman, would
makehimless masculineand that his firehousebuddies would no longer
accept him. (A maleheart, Oz says, is infact slightly different froma
femaleheart. A heart surgeoncantell onefromtheother by lookingat
theECG, becausetheintervals areslightly different. Whenyouput a
femaleheart into aman, it will continueto beat likeafemaleheart. And
viceversa.)
Fromreadingapaper by Kraft, it would seemthat whenmenbelieve
their new hearts camefromanother man, they oftenbelievethis manto
havebeenastud and that somemeasureof this studliness has somehow
beenimparted to them. Nurses ontransplant wards oftenremark that
maletransplant patients show arenewed interest insex. Onereported
that apatient asked her to wear "somethingother thanthat shapeless
scrubso hecould seeher breasts." A post-op who had beenimpotent for
sevenyears beforetheoperationwas found holdinghis penis and
demonstratinganerection. Another nursespokeof amanwho left thefly
of his pajamas unfastened to show her his penis. ConcludeTabler and
Frierson, "This irrational but commonbelief that therecipient will
somehow develop characteristics of thedonor is generally transitory but
may alter sexual patterns." Let us hopethat themanwiththechicken
heart was blessed withapatient and open-minded spouse.
Theharvestingof H is windingdown. Thelast organs to betaken, the
kidneys, arebeingbrought up and separated fromthedepths of her open
torso. Her thoraxand abdomenarefilled withcrushed ice, turned red
fromblood. "Cherry Sno-Kone," I writeinmy notepad. It's beenalmost
four hours now, and H has begunto look morelikeaconventional
cadaver, her skindried and dulled at theedges of theincision.
Thekidneys areplaced inablueplasticbowl withiceand perfusion
fluid. A relief surgeonarrives for thefinal step of therecovery, cuttingoff
pieces of veins and arteries to beincluded, likesparesweater buttons,
alongwiththeorgans, incasetheones attached to themaretoo short to
work with. A half hour later, therelief surgeonsteps asideand the
resident comes over to sew H up.
As hetalks to Dr. Posselt about thestitching, theresident strokes the
bank of fat alongH's incisionwithhis gloved hand, thenpats it twice, as
thoughcomfortingher. Whenheturns back to his work, I ask himif it
feels different to beworkingonadead patient.
"Oh, yes," heanswers. "I mean, I would never usethis kind of stitch." He
has begunstitchingmorewidely spaced, comparatively crudeloops,
rather thanthetight, hiddenstitches used ontheliving.
I rephrasethequestion: Does it feel odd to performsurgery onsomeone
who isn't alive?
His answer is surprising. "Thepatient wasalive." I supposesurgeons are
used to thinkingabout patientsparticularly ones they'venever metas
no morethanwhat they seeof them: openplots of organs. And as far as
that goes, I guess youcould say H wasalive. Becauseof thecloths
coveringall but her opened torso, theyoungmannever saw her face,
didn't know if shewas maleor female.
Whiletheresident sews, anursepicks stray danglies of skinand fat off
theoperatingtablewithapair of tongs and drops theminsidethebody
cavity, as thoughH wereahandy waste-basket. Thenurseexplains that
this is doneintentionally: "Anythingnot donated stays withher." The
jigsaw puzzleput back inits box.
Theincisionis complete, and anursewashes H off and covers her witha
blanket for thetrip to themorgue. Out of habit or respect, hechooses a
freshone. Thetransplant coordinator, Von, and thenurselift H onto a
gurney. Vonwheels H into anelevator and downahallway to the
morgue. Theworkers arebehind aset of swingingdoors, inaback room.
"Canweleavethis here?" Vonshouts. H has becomea"this." Weare
instructed to wheel thegurney into thecooler, whereit joins fiveothers.
H appears no different fromthecorpses already here.[8]
But H isdifferent. Shehas madethreesick peoplewell. Shehas brought
themextratimeonearth. To beable, as adead person, to makeagift of
this magnitudeis phenomenal. Most peopledon't managethis sort of
thingwhilethey'realive. Cadavers likeH arethedead's heros.
It is astoundingto me, and achingly sad, that witheighty thousand
peopleonthewaitinglist for donated hearts and livers and kidneys, with
sixteenaday dyingthereonthat list, that morethanhalf of thepeoplein
thepositionH's family was inwill say no, will chooseto burnthose
organs or let themrot. Weabidethesurgeon's scalpel to saveour own
lives, our loved ones' lives, but not to saveastranger's life. H has no
heart, but heartless is thelast thingyou'd call her.
Footnotes:
[1] I read onaWebsitesomewherethat this was theoriginof thesaying
"Saved by thebell." Infact, by onereckoning, not asinglecorpseof the
million-plus sent to waitingmortuaries over atwenty-year period
awakened. If thebell alerted theattendant, whichit oftendid, it was due
to thecorpse's shiftingand collapsingas it decomposed. This was the
originof thesaying"Drivento seek new employment by thebell," which
youdon't hear muchanymoreand probably never did, becauseI madeit
up.
[2] Sincetheodds of our meetingat acocktail party areslimand theodds
of my managingto swingtheconversationaround to speculums slimmer
still, let metakethis opportunity to share: Theearliest speculumdates
fromHippocrates' day and was arectal model. It was to beanother five
hundred years beforethevaginal speculummadeits debut. Dr. Grigg
theorizes that this was because, intheArabianmodel of medicine
followed at thetime, womencould beexamined only by women, and
therewerevery few womendoctors to do theexamining. This implies
that most womeninHippocrates' day never went to thegyno. Giventhat
theHippocraticgynecological cabinet included cow-dungpessaries and
fumigationmaterials "of heavy and foul smell"not to mentionrectal
speculumsthey wereprobably better off.
[3] Wearefortunatethat this is so, for wewould otherwisehavebeen
faced withCelineDionsinging"My Liver Belongs to You" and movie
houses playingTheLiver IsaLonelyHunter. Every Spanishlovesongthat
contains theword corazon, whichis all of them, would containthe
somewhat less liltinghigado, and bumper stickers would proclaim, "I
[liver symbol] my Pekingese."
[4] I'd never heard of him, either.
[5] No matter, for Whytt could havekept his appointment book full with
no other patient besides himself. Accordingto R. K. French's biography
of Whytt intheWellcomeInstituteof theHistory of Medicineseries,
edited by F. N. L. Poynter, M.D., thephysiciansuffered fromgout, spastic
bowels, "frequent flatulence," a"disordered stomach," "wind inthe
stomach," nightmares, giddiness, faintness, depression, diabetes, purple
discolorations of thethighs and lower legs, coughingfits "producinga
thick phlegm," and, accordingto two of Whytt's colleagues,
hypochondria. Whenhedied, at theageof fifty-two, hewas found to
have"somefivepounds of fluid, mixed withasubstanceof gelatinous
consistency and bluishcolor," inhis chest, a"red spot thesizeof ashilling
onthemucous membraneof thestomach," and concretions inthe
pancreas. (This is what happens whenyouput M.D.'s inchargeof
biographies.)
[6] What wasgoingoninexperiments likethese? Hard to say. Perhaps
thebrainstemor spinal medullahad beenleft intact. Perhaps Dr. Redi,
too, had his brainextracted fromaholeinhis skull theNovember past.
[7] PeoplehavetroublebelievingThomas Edisonto bealoopy
individual. I offer as evidencethefollowingpassageonhumanmemory,
takenfromhis diaries: "Wedo not remember. A certaingroup of our little
peopledo this for us. They liveinthat part of thebrainwhichhasbecome
knownas the'fold of Broca.'Theremay betwelveor fifteenshifts that
changeabout and areonduty at different times likemenina
factory.Thereforeit seems likely that rememberingathingis all a
matter of gettingintouchwiththeshift that was onduty whenthe
recordingwas done."
[8] Unless H's family is planninganaked open-casket service, no oneat
her funeral will beableto tell she's had organs removed. Only withtissue
harvesting, whichoftenincludes legand armbones, does thebody take
onaslightly altered profile, and inthis casePVC pipingor dowels are
inserted to normalizetheformand makelifeeasier for mortuary staff
and others who need to movetheotherwisesomewhat noodle-ized body.
9
JustaHead
Decapitation, reanimation, andthehumanheadtransplant
If youreally wanted to know for surethat thehumansoul resides inthe
brain, youcould cut off aman's head and ask it. Youwould haveto ask
quickly, for thehumanbraincut off fromits blood supply will slideinto
unconsciousness after tenor twelveseconds. Youwould, further, haveto
instruct themanto answer withblinks, for, havingbeendivorced from
his lungs, hecanpull no air throughhis larynxand thus canno longer
speak. But it could bedone. And if themanseemed moreor less thesame
individual hewas beforeyoucut off his head, perhaps alittleless calm,
thenyouwould know that indeed theself is thereinthebrain.
InParis, in1795, anexperiment very muchlikethis was nearly
undertaken. Four years before, theguillotinehad replaced thenooseas
theexecutioner's official tool. Thedevicewas named after Dr. Joseph
IgnaceGuillotin, thoughhedid not invent it. Hemerely lobbied for its
use, onthegroundsthat thedecapitatingmachine, as hepreferred to call
it, was aninstantaneous, and thus morehumane, way to kill.
And thenheread this:
Do you know that it is not at all certain when
a head is severed from the body by the
guillotine that the feelings, personality and
ego are instantaneously abolished? Don't you
know that the seat of the feelings and
appreciation is in the brain, that this seat
of consciousness can continue to operate even
when the circulation of the blood is cut off
from the brain? Thus, for as long as the
brain retains its vital force the victim is
aware of his existence. Remember that Haller
insists that a head, having been removed from
the shoulders of a man, grimaced horribly when
a surgeon who was present stuck a finger into
the rachidian canal.Furthermore, credible
witnesses have assured me that they have seen
the teeth grind after the head has been
separated from the trunk. And I am convinced
that if the air could still circulate through
the organs of the voicethese heads would
speak.
The guillotine is a terrible torture! We must
return to hanging.
It was aletter, published intheNovember 9, 1795, ParisMoniteur (and
reprinted inAndrSoubiran's biography of Guillotin), writtenby the
well-respected Germananatomist S. T. Smmering. Guillotinwas
horrified, theParis medical community atwitter. Jean-JosephSue, the
librarianat theParis School of Medicine, cameout inagreement with
Smmering, declaringhis belief that theheads could seehear, smell, see,
and think. Hetried to convincehis colleagues to undertakean
experiment whereby "beforethebutchery of thevictim," afew of the
unfortunate's friends would arrangeacodeof eyelid or jaw movements
whichthehead could useafter theexecutionto indicatewhether it was
"fully conscious of [its] agony." Sue's colleagues inthemedical
community dismissed his ideaas ghastly and absurd, and theexperiment
was not carried out. Nonetheless, thenotionof thelivinghead had made
its way into thepublicconsciousness and evenpopular literature. Below
is aconversationbetweenapair of fictional executioners, inAlexandre
Dumas'sMilleet UnPhantomes:
"Do you believe they're dead because they've
been guillotined?"
"Undoubtedly!"
"Well, one can see that you don't look in the
basket when they are all there together.
You've never seen them twist their eyes and
grind their teeth for a good five minutes
after the execution. We are forced to change
the basket every three months because they
cause such damage to the bottom."
Shortly after Smmering's and Sue's pronouncements, Georges Martin,
anassistant to theofficial Paris executioner and witness to some120
beheadings, was interviewed onthesubject of theheads and their post-
executionactivities. Soubiranwrites that hecast his lot (not surprisingly)
onthesideof instantaneous death. Heclaimed to haveviewed all 120
heads withintwo seconds and always "theeyes werefixed.The
immobility of thelids was total. Thelips werealready white." Medical
sciencewas, for themoment, reassured, and thefuror dissipated.
But Frenchsciencewas not throughwithheads. A physiologist named
Legallois surmised inan1812paper that if thepersonality did indeed
resideinthebrain, it should bepossibleto reviveunettesparedutronc
by givingit aninjectionof oxygenated blood throughits severed cerebral
arteries. "If aphysiologist attempted this experiment onthehead of a
guillotined manafew instants after death," wroteLegallois's colleague
Professor Vulpian, "hewould perhaps bear witness to aterriblesight."
Theoretically, for as longas theblood supply lasted, thehead would be
ableto think, hear, see, smell (grind its teeth, twist its eyes, chew up the
labtable), for all thenerves abovetheneck would still beintact and
attached to theorgans and muscles of thehead. Thehead wouldn't be
ableto speak, owingto theaforementioned disablingof thelarynx, but
this was probably, fromtheperspectiveof theexperimenter, just as well.
Legallois lacked either theresources or theintestinal fortitudeto follow
throughwiththeactual experiment, but other researchers did not.
In1857, theFrenchphysicianBrown-Squard cut thehead off adog ("Je
dcapitai unchien. . .") to seeif hecould put it back inactionwitharterial
injections of oxygenated blood. Eight minutes after thehead parted
company withtheneck, theinjections began. Two or threeminutes later,
Brown-Squard noted movements of theeyes and facial muscles that
appeared to himto bevoluntarily directed. Clearly somethingwas going
onintheanimal's brain.
Withthesteady supply of guillotined heads inParis, it was only amatter
of timebeforesomeonetried this out onahuman. Therecould beonly
onemanfor thejob, amanwho would morethanoncemakeanamefor
himself (lots of names, probably) by doingpeculiar things to bodies with
theaimof resuscitatingthem. Themanfor thejobwas JeanBaptiste
Vincent Laborde, thevery sameJeanBaptisteVincent Labordewho
appeared earlier inthesepages advocatingprolonged tongue-pullingas a
means of revivingthecomatose, mistaken-for-dead patient. In1884, the
Frenchauthorities begansupplyingLabordewiththeheads of
guillotined prisoners so that hecould examinethestateof their brainand
nervous system. (Reports of theseexperiments appeared invarious
Frenchmedical journals, RevueScientifiquebeingthemainone.) It was
hoped that Labordewould get to thebottomof what hecalled laterrible
legendethat it was possiblefor guillotined heads to beaware, if only for
amoment, of their situation(inabasket, without abody). Uponahead's
arrival inhis lab, hewould quickly boreholes intheskull and insert
needles into thebraininanattempt to trigger nervous systemresponses.
FollowingBrown-Squard's lead, healso tried resuscitatingtheheads
withasupply of blood.
Laborde's first subject was amurderer named Campi. FromLaborde's
description, hewas not atypical thug. Hehad delicateankles and white,
well-manicured hands. His skinwas unblemished savefor anabrasion
ontheleft cheek, whichLabordesurmised was theresult of thehead's
drop into theguillotinebasket. Labordedidn't typically spend so much
timepersonalizinghis subjects, preferringto call themsimply restesfrais.
Thetermmeans, literally, "freshremains," thoughinFrenchit has a
pleasant culinary lilt, likesomethingyoumight order off thespecials
board at theneighborhood bistro.
Campi arrived intwo pieces, and hearrived late. Under ideal
circumstances, thedistancefromthescaffold to Laborde's labonRue
Vauquelincould becovered inabout sevenminutes. Campi's commute
took anhour and twenty minutes, owingto what Labordecalled "that
stupid law" forbiddingscientists to takepossessionof theremains of
executed criminals until thebodies had crossed thethreshold of thecity
cemetery. This meant Laborde's driver had to follow theheads as they
"madethesentimental journey to theturnip field" (if my Frenchserves)
and thenpack themup and bringthemall theway back across townto
thelab. Needless to say, Campi's brainhad longsinceceased to function
inanythingcloseto anormal state.
Infuriated by thewasteof eighty critical postmortemminutes, Laborde
decided to meet his next head at thecemetery gates and set directly to
work onit. Heand his assistants rigged amakeshift travelinglaboratory
intheback of ahorse-drawnvan, completewithlabtable, fivestools,
candles, and thenecessary equipment. Thesecond subject was named
Gamahut, afact unlikely to beforgotten, owingto theman's havinghad
his nametattooed onhis torso. Eerily, as thoughpresaginghis gory fate,
hehad also beentattooed withaportrait of himself fromtheneck up,
which, without thelines of aframeto suggest anunseenbody, gavehim
theappearanceof afloatinghead.
Withinminutes of its arrival inthevan, Gamahut's head was installed in
astyptic-lined container and themenset to work, drillingholes inthe
skull and insertingneedles into various regions of thebrainto seeif they
could coaxany activity out of thecriminal's moribund nervous system.
Theability to performbrainsurgery whiletravelingfull tilt ona
cobblestonestreet is atestament to thesteadiness of Laborde's hand
and/or thecraftsmanship of nineteenth-century broughams. Had the
vehicle's manufacturers known, they might havecrafted apersuasivead
campaign, lathediamond cutter inthebackseat of thesmooth-riding
Oldsmobile.
Laborde's teamrancurrent throughtheneedles, and theGamahut head
could beseento makethepredictabletwitches of lip and jaw. At one
pointto theastonished shouts of all presenttheprisoner slowly
opened oneeye, as if, withgreat and understandabletrepidation, he
sought to figureout wherehewas and what sort of strangelocality hell
had turned out to be. But, of course, giventheamount of timethat had
elapsed, themovement could havebeennothingbeyond aprimitive
reflex.
Thethird timearound, Laborderesorted to basicbribery to expeditehis
head deliveries. Withthehelp of thelocal municipality chief, thethird
head, that of amannamed Gagny, was delivered to his labjust shy of
sevenminutes after thechop. Thearteries ontheright sideof theneck
wereinjected withoxygenated cow's blood, and, inabreak fromBrown-
Squard's protocol, thearteries ontheother sidewereconnected to those
of alivinganimal: unchienvigoureux. Labordehad anarrestingflair for
details, whichthemedical journals of his day seemed pleased to
accommodate. Hedevoted afull paragraphto anartful descriptionof a
severed head restingupright onthelabtable, rockingever so slightly left
and right fromthepulsingpressureof thedog's blood as it pumped into
thehead. Inanother paper, hetook pains to detail thepostmortem
contents of Gamahut's excretory organs, thoughtheinformationboreno
relationto theexperiment at hand, notingwithseemingfascinationthat
thestomachand intestines werecompletely empty savefor unpetit
bouchonfcal at thefar end.
WiththeGagny head, Labordecameclosest to restoringnormal brain
function. Muscles ontheeyelids, forehead, and jaw could bemadeto
contract. At onepoint Gagny's jaw snapped shut so forcefully that aloud
claquement dentairewas heard. However, giventhat twenty minutes had
passed fromthedrop of thebladeto theinfusionof bloodand
irreversiblebraindeathsets inafter sixto tenminutesit is certainthat
Gagny's brainwas too far goneto bebrought around to anything
resemblingconsciousness and heremained blessedly ignorant of his
dismayingstateof affairs. Thechien, ontheother hand, spent its final,
decidedly lessvigoureuxminutes watchingits blood pump into someone
else's head and no doubt produced someclaquementsdentairesof its own.
Labordesoonlost interest inheads, but ateamof Frenchexperimenters
named Hayemand Barrier took up whereheleft off. Thetwo became
somethingof acottageindustry, transfusingatotal of twenty-two dog
heads, usingblood fromlivehorses and dogs. They built atabletop
guillotinespecially fitted to thecanineneck and published papers onthe
threephases of neurological activity followingdecapitation. Monsieur
Guillotinwould havebeendeeply chagrined to read theconcluding
statements inHayemand Barrier's descriptionof theinitial, or
"convulsive," postdecapitationphase. Thephysiognomy of thehead, they
wrote, expresses surpriseor "unegrandeanxit," and appears to be
conscious of theexterior world for threeor four seconds.
Eighteenyears later, aFrenchphysicianby thenameof Beaurieux
confirmed Hayemand Barriers observationsand Smmering's
suspicions. UsingParis's publicscaffold as his lab, hecarried out aseries
of simpleobservations and experiments onthehead of aprisoner named
Languille, theinstant after theguillotinebladedropped.
Here, then, is what I was able to note
immediately after the decapitation: the
eyelids and lips of the guillotined man worked
in irregularly rhythmic contractions for about
five or six seconds[and] ceased. The face
relaxed, the lids half closed on the
eyeballs,exactly as in the dying whom we have
occasion to see every day in the exercise of
our profession.It was then that I called in a
strong, sharp voice, "Languille!" I then saw
the eyelids slowly lift up, without any
spasmodic contractionsuch as happens in
everyday life, with people awakened or torn
from their thoughts. Next Languille's eyes
very definitely fixed themselves on mine and
the pupils focused themselves. I was not,
then, dealing with the sort of vague dull look
without any expression that can be observed
any day in dying people to whom one speaks. I
was dealing with undeniably living eyes which
were looking at me.
After several seconds, the eyelids closed
again, slowly and evenly, and the head took on
the same appearance as it had had before I
called out. It was at that point that I called
out again, and, once more, without any spasm,
slowly, the eyelids lifted and undeniably
living eyes fixed themselves on mine with
perhaps even more penetration than the first
time.I attempted the effect of a third call;
there was no further movementand the eyes
took on the glazed look which they have in the
dead.
Youknow, of course, wherethis is leading. It is leadingtoward human
head transplants. If abrainapersonalityand its surroundinghead can
bekept functional withanoutsideblood supply for as longas that
supply lasts, thenwhy not go thewholehogand actually transplant it
onto aliving, breathingbody, so that it has anongoingblood supply?
Herethepages fly fromthecalendar and theglobespins onits stand, and
wefind ourselves inSt. Louis, Missouri, May 1908.
Charles Guthriewas apioneer inthefield of organtransplantation. He
and acolleague, Alexis Carrel, werethefirst to master theart of
anastomosis: thestitchingof onevessel to another without leaks. Inthose
days, thetask required great patienceand dexterity, and very thinthread
(at onepoint, Guthrietried sewingwithhumanhair). Havingmastered
theskill, Guthrieand Carrel went anastomosis-happy, transplanting
pieces of dogthighs and entireforelimbs, keepingextrakidneys alive
outsideof bodies and stitchingtheminto groins. Carrel went onto win
theNobel Prizefor his contributions to medicine; Guthrie, themeeker
and humbler of thetwo, was rudely overlooked.
OnMay 21, Guthriesucceeded ingraftingonedog's head onto thesideof
another's neck, creatingtheworld'sfirst man-madetwo-headed dog. The
arteries weregrafted together suchthat theblood of theintact dog
flowed throughthehead of thedecapitated dogand thenback into the
intact dog's neck, whereit proceeded to thebrainand back into
circulation. Guthrie's book BloodVessel SurgeryandItsApplications
includes aphotographof thehistoriccreature. Wereit not for thecaption,
thephoto would seemto beof somerareformof marsupial dog, witha
largebaby's head protrudingfromapouchinits mother's fur. The
transplanted head was sewnonat thebaseof theneck, upsidedown, so
that thetwo dogs arechinto chin, givinganimpressionof intimacy,
despitewhat must havebeenat thevery least astrained coexistence. I
imaginephotographs of Guthrieand Carrel around that timehaving
muchthesamequality.
As withMonsieur Gagny's head, too muchtime(twenty minutes) had
elapsed betweenthebeheadingand themoment circulationwas restored
for thedoghead and brainto regainmuchfunction. Guthrierecorded a
series of primitivemovements and basicreflexes, similar to what Laborde
and Hayemhad observed: pupil contractions, nostril twitchings, "boiling
movements" of thetongue. Only onenotationinGuthrie's labnotes gives
theimpressionthat theupside-downdoghead might havehad an
awareness of what had takenplace: "5:31: Secretionof tears." Bothdogs
wereeuthanized whencomplications set in, about sevenhours after the
operation.
Thefirst dogheads to enjoy, if that word canbeused, full cerebral
functionwerethoseof transplantationwhiz Vladimir Demikhov, inthe
Soviet Unioninthe1950s. Demikhov minimized thetimethat thesevered
donor head was without oxygenby using"blood-vessel sewing
machines." Hetransplanted twenty puppy headsactually, head-
shoulders-lungs-and-forelimbs units withanesophagus that emptied,
untidily, onto theoutsideof thedogonto fully growndogs, to seewhat
they'd do and how longthey'd last (usually fromtwo to sixdays, but in
onecaseas longas twenty-ninedays).
Inhis bookExperimental Transplantationof Vital Organs, Demikhov
includes photographs of, and labnotes from, Experiment No. 2, on
February 24,1954: thetransplantationof aone-month-old puppy's head
and forelimbs to theneck of what appears to beaSiberianhusky. The
notes portray alively, puppylike, if not altogether joyous existenceonthe
part of thehead:
09:00. The donor's head eagerly drank water or
milk, and tugged as if trying to separate
itself from the recipient's body.
22:30. When the recipient was put to bed, the
transplanted head bit the finger of a member
of the staff until it bled.
February 26,18:00. The donor's head bit the
recipient behind the ear, so that the latter
yelped and shook its head.
Demikhov's transplant subjects weretypically doneinby immune
reactions. Immunosuppressivedrugs weren't yet available, and the
immunesystemof theintact dogwould, understandably enough, treat
thedogparts grafted to its neck as ahostileinvader and proceed
accordingly. And so Demikhov hit awall. Havingtransplanted virtually
every pieceand combinationof pieces of adoginto or onto another
dog,[1] heclosed up his laband disappeared into obscurity.
If Demikhov had knownmoreabout immunology, his career might have
gonequitedifferently. Hemight haverealized that thebrainenjoys what
is knownas "immunological privilege," and canbekept aliveonanother
body's blood supply for weeks without rejection. Becauseit is protected
by theblood brainbarrier, it isn't rejected theway other organs and
tissues are. Whilethemucosal tissues of Guthrie's and Demikhov's
transplanted dogheads beganswellingand hemorrhagingwithinaday
or two of theoperation, thebrains at autopsy appeared normal.
Hereiswhereit begins to get strange.
Inthemid-1960s, aneurosurgeonnamed Robert Whitebegan
experimentingwith"isolated brainpreparations": alivingbraintakenout
of oneanimal, hooked up to another animal's circulatory system, and
kept alive. UnlikeDemikhov's and Guthrie's wholehead transplants,
thesebrains, lackingfaces and sensory organs, would livealifeconfined
to memory and thought. Giventhat many of thesedogs' and monkeys'
brains wereimplanted insidethenecks and abdomens of other animals,
this could only havebeenablessing. Whiletheinsideof someoneelse's
abdomenis of moderateinterest inasort of curiosity-seeking, Surgery
Channel sort of way, it's not thesort of placeyouwant to settledownin
to liveout theremainder of your years.
Whitefigured out that by coolingthebrainduringtheprocedureto slow
theprocesses by whichcellular damageoccursatechniqueused today
inorganrecovery and transplant operationsit was possibleto retain
most of theorgan's normal functions. Whichmeans that thepersonality
thepsyche, thespirit, thesoulof thosemonkeys continued to exist, for
days onend, without its body or any of its senses, insideanother animal.
What must that havebeenlike? What could possibly bethepurpose, the
justification? Had Whitebeenthinkingof oneday isolatingahuman
brainlikethis? What kind of personcomes up withaplanlikethis and
carries it out?
To find out, I decided to go visit WhiteinCleveland, whereheis
spendinghis retirement. Weplanned to meet at theMetro HealthCare
Center, downstairs fromthelabwherehecarried out his historic
operations, whichhas beenpreserved as akind of shrine-cum-media-
photo-op. I was anhour early, and spent thetimedrivingup and down
Metro HealthCareDrive, lookingfor aplaceto sit and havesomecoffee
and review White's papers. Therewas nothing. I ended up back at the
hospital, onapatchof grass outsidetheparkinggarage. I had heard
Cleveland had undergonesomesort of renaissance, but apparently it
underwent it insomeother part of town. Let's just say it wasn't thesort of
placeI'd want to liveout theremainder of my years, thoughit beats a
monkey abdomen, and youcan't say that about someneighborhoods.
Whiteescorts methroughthehospital corridors and stairways, past the
neurosurgery department, up thestairs, to his old lab. Heis seventy-six
now, thinner thanhewas at thetimeof theoperations, but elsewiselittle
changed by age. His answers havetherote, patient air youexpect froma
manwho has beenasked thesamequestions ahundred times.
"Hereweare," says White, NEUROLOGICAL RESEARCH
LABORATORY, says aplaquebesidethedoor, givingaway nothing. To
step insideis to step back into 1968, beforelabs went whiteand stainless.
Thecounters areof adull black stone, stained withwhiterings, and the
cabinets and drawers arewood. It has beenawhilesinceanyonedusted,
and ivy has grownover theonewindow. Thefluorescent lights have
thoseold covers that look likeicetray dividers.
"This is whereweshouted 'Eureka!' and danced around," recalls White.
Thereisn't muchroomfor dancing. It's asmall, cluttered, low-ceilinged
room, withacoupleof stools for thescientists, andadownsized
veterinary operatingtablefor therhesus monkeys.
And whileWhiteand his colleagues danced, what was goingoninside
thebrainof that monkey? I ask himwhat heimagined it must havebeen
liketo find yourself, suddenly, reduced to your thoughts. I am, of course,
not thefirst journalist to haveasked this question. Thelegendary Oriana
Fallaci[2] asked it of White's neurophysiologist Leo Massopust, inaLook
magazineinterview inNovember 1967. "I suspect that without his senses
hecanthink morequickly," Dr. Massopust answered brightly. "What
kind of thinking, I don't know. I guess he's primarily amemory, a
repository for informationstored whenhehad his flesh; hecannot
develop further becauseheno longer has thenourishment of experience.
Yet this, too, is anew experience."
Whitedeclines to sugar-coat. Hementions theisolationchamber studies
of the1970s, whereinsubjects had no sensory input, nothingto hear, see,
smell, feel, or taste. Thesepeoplegot as closeas youcancome, without
White's aid, to beingbrains inabox. "People[intheseconditions] have
goneliterally crazy," says White, "and it doesn't takeall that long."
Althoughinsanity, too, is anew experiencefor most people, no onewas
likely to volunteer to becomeoneof White's isolated brains. And of
course, Whitecouldn't forceanyoneto do itthoughI imagineOriana
Fallaci cameto mind. "Besides," says White, "I would questionthe
scientificapplicability. What would justify it?"
So what justified puttingarhesus monkey throughit? It turns out the
isolated brainexperiments weresimply astep ontheway toward
keepingentireheads aliveonnew bodies. By thetimeWhiteappeared on
thescene, early immunosuppressivedrugs wereavailableand many of
theproblems of tissuerejectionwerebeingresolved. If Whiteand his
teamworked out thekinks withthebrains and found they could bekept
functioning, thenthey would moveonto wholeheads. First monkey
heads, and then, they hoped, humanones.
Our conversationhas moved fromWhite's labto aboothinanearby
MiddleEasternrestaurant. My recommendationto youis that younever
eat babaganoushor, for that matter, any soft, glisteninggray food item
whilecarryingonaconversationinvolvingmonkey brains.
Whitethinks of theoperationnot as ahead transplant, but as awhole-
body transplant. Think of it this way: Instead of gettingoneor two
donated organs, adyingrecipient gets theentirebody of abrain-dead
beating-heart cadaver. UnlikeGuthrieand Demikhov withtheir
multiheaded monsters, Whitewould removethebody donor's head and
put thenew oneinits place. Thelogical recipient of this new body, as
Whiteenvisions it, would beaquadriplegic. For onething, Whitesaid,
thelifespanof quadriplegics is typically reduced, their organs givingout
morequickly thanis normal. By puttingthemtheir headsonto new
bodies, youwould buy themadecadeor two of life, without, intheir
case, muchalteringtheir quality of life. High-level quadriplegics are
paralyzed fromtheneck downand requireartificial respiration, but
everythingfromtheneck up works fine. Ditto thetransplanted head.
Becauseno neurosurgeoncanyet reconnect severed spinal nerves, the
personwould still beaquadriplegicbut no longer onewithadeath
sentence. "Thehead could hear, taste, see," says White. "It could read, and
hear music. And theneck canbeinstrumented just likeMr. Reeve's is, to
speak."
In1971, Whiteachieved theunthinkable. Hecut thehead off onemonkey
and connected it to thebaseof theneck of asecond, decapitated monkey.
Theoperationlasted eight hours and required numerous assistants, each
havingbeengivendetailed instructions, includingwhereto stand and
what to say. Whitewent up to theoperatingroomfor weeks beforehand
and marked off everyone's positiononthefloor withchalk circles and
arrows, likeafootball coach. Thefirst step was to givethemonkeys
tracheotomies and hook themup to respirators, for their windpipes were
about to severed. Next Whitepared thetwo monkey's necks downto just
thespineand themainblood vesselsthetwo carotid arteries carrying
blood to thebrainand thetwo jugular veins bringingit back to theheart.
Thenhewhittled downtheboneonthetop of thebody donor's neck and
capped it withametal plate, and did thesamethingonthebottomof the
head. (After thevessels werereconnected, thetwo plates werescrewed
together.) Then, usinglong, flexibletubing, hebrought thecirculationof
thedonor body over to supply its new head and sutured thevessels.
Finally, thehead was cut off fromtheblood supply of its old body.
This is, of course, grossly simplified. I makeit sound as thoughthewhole
thingcould bedonewithajackknifeandasewingkit. For moredetails, I
would direct youto theJuly 1971issueof Surgery, whichcontains White's
paper ontheprocedure, complete- withpen-and-ink illustrations. My
favoriteillustrationshows amonkey body withafaint, ghostly head
aboveits shoulders, indicatingwhereits head had until recently been
located, and ajaunty arrow arcingacross thedrawingtoward thespace
aboveasecond monkey body, wherethefirst monkey's head is now
situated. Thedrawinglends atidy, businesslikeneutrality to what must
havebeenachaoticand exceptionally gruesomeoperation, muchtheway
airplaneemergency exit cards giveanorderly, workaday air to the
interiors of crashingplanes. Whitefilmed theoperationbut wouldn't,
despiteprotracted beggingandwheedling, show methefilm. Hesaid it
was too bloody.
That's not what would havegottento me. What would havegottento me
was thelook onthemonkey's facewhentheanesthesiaworeoff and it
realized what had just takenplace. Whitedescribed this moment inthe
aforementioned paper, "CephalicExchangeTransplantationinthe
Monkey": "Eachcephalon[head] gaveevidenceof theexternal
environment.Theeyes tracked themovement of individuals and
objects brought into their visual fields, and thecephalons remained
basically pugnacious intheir attitudes, as demonstrated by their bitingif
orally stimulated." WhenWhiteplaced food intheir mouths, they
chewed it and attempted to swallow itabit of adirty trick, giventhat
theesophagus hadn't beenreconnected and was now adead end. The
monkeys lived anywherefromsixhours to threedays, most of them
dyingfromrejectionissues or frombleeding. (Inorder to prevent clotting
intheanastomosed arteries, theanimals wereonanticoagulants, which
createdtheir ownproblems.)
I asked Whitewhether any humans had ever stepped forward to
volunteer their heads. Hementioned awealthy, elderly quadriplegicin
Cleveland who had madeit clear that should thebody transplant surgery
beperfected whenhis timedraws near, he's gameto giveit awhirl.
"Perfected" beingthekey word. Thetroublewithhumansubjects is that
no onewants to go first. No onewants to beapracticehead.
If someonedid agreeto it, would Whitedo it?
"Of course. I seeno reasonwhy it wouldn't besuccessful withaman."
Whitedoesn't think theUnited States will bethelikely siteof thefirst
humanhead transplant, owingto theamount of bureaucracy and
institutional resistancefaced by inventors of radical new procedures.
"You'redealingwithanoperationthat is totally revolutionary. People
can't makeup their minds whether it's atotal body transplant or ahead
transplant, abrainor evenasoul transplant. There's another issuetoo.
Peoplewill say, 'Look at all thepeople's lives youcould savewiththe
organs inonebody, and youwant to givethat body to just oneperson.
And he'sparalyzed.' "
Thereareother countries, countries withless meddlesomeregulating
bodies, that would loveto haveWhitecomeover and makehistory
swappingheads. "I could do it inKiev tomorrow. And they'reevenmore
interested inGermany and England. And theDominicanRepublic. They
want meto do it. Italy would likemeto do it. But where's themoney?"
EvenintheUnited States, cost stands intheway: As Whitepoints out,
"Who's goingto fund theresearchwhentheoperationis so expensive
and would only benefit asmall number of patients?"
Let's say someonedid fund theresearch, and that White's procedures
werestreamlined and proved viable. Could therecomeaday when
peoplewhosebodies aresuccumbingto fatal diseases will simply get a
new body and add decades to their livesalbeit, to quoteWhite, as a
head onapillow? Therecould. Not only that, but withprogress in
repairingdamaged spinal cords, surgeons may oneday beableto
reattachspinal nerves, meaningtheseheads could get up off their pillows
and beginto moveand control their new bodies. There's no reasonto
think it couldn't oneday happen.
And few reasons to think it will. Insurancecompanies areunlikely to
ever cover suchanexpensiveoperation, whichwould put this particular
formof lifeextensionout of reachof anyonebut thevery rich. Is it a
sensibleuseof medical resources to keep terminally ill and extravagantly
wealthy peoplealive? Shouldn't we, as aculture, encourageasaner, more
acceptingattitudetoward death? Whitedoesn't profess to havethelast
word onthematter. But he'd still liketo do it.
Interestingly, White, adevout Catholic, is amember of thePontifical
Academy of Sciences, someseventy-eight well-knownscientificminds
(and their bodies) who fly to VaticanCity every two years to keep the
Popeup to dateonscientificmatters of special interest to thechurch:
stemcell research, cloning, euthanasia, evenlifeonother planets. Inone
sense, this is anodd placefor White, giventhat Catholicismpreaches that
thesoul occupies thewholebody, not just thebrain. Thesubject cameup
duringoneof White's meetings withtheHoly Father. "I said to him,
'Well, Your Holiness, I seriously haveto consider that thehumanspirit or
soul is physically located inthebrain.' ThePopelooked very strained and
did not answer." Whitestops and looks downat his coffeemug, as
thoughperhaps regrettinghis candor that day.
"ThePopealways looks alittlestrained," I point out helpfully. "I mean,
withhis healthand all." I wonder aloud whether thePopemight bea
good candidatefor total body transplant. "God knows theVatican's got
themoney." Whitethrows mealook. Thelook says it might not bea
good ideato tell Whiteabout my collectionof news photographs of the
Popehavingtroublewithhis vestments. It says I'mapetit bouchonfcal.
Whitewould very muchliketo seethechurchchangeits definitionof
deathfrom"themoment thesoul leaves thebody" to "themoment the
soul leaves thebrain," especially giventhat Catholicismaccepts boththe
concept of braindeathand thepracticeof organtransplantation. But the
Holy See, likeWhite's transplanted monkey heads, has remained
pugnacious inits attitude.
No matter how far thescienceof wholebody transplantationadvances,
Whiteor anyoneelsewho chooses to cut thehead off abeating-heart
cadaver and screw adifferent oneonto it faces asignificant hurdleinthe
formof donor consent. A singleorganremoved fromabody becomes
impersonal, identity-neutral. Thehumanitarianbenefits of its donation
outweightheemotional discomfort surroundingits removalfor most of
us, anyway. Body transplants areanother story. Will peopleor their
families ever giveanentire, intact body away to improvethehealthof a
stranger?
They might. It has happened before. Thoughtheseparticular curative
dead bodies never found their way to theoperatingroom. They were
moreof anapothecary item: topically applied, distilled into atincture,
swallowed or eaten. Wholehumanbodiesas well as bits and pieces of
themwerefor centuries amainstay inthepharmacopoeias of Europe
and Asia. Somepeopleactually volunteered for thejob. If elderly menin
twelfth-century Arabiawerewillingto donatethemselves to become
"humanmummy confection" (seerecipe, next chapter), thenit's not hard
to imaginethat amanmight volunteer to besomeoneelse's transplanted
body. Okay, it's maybealittlehard.
Footnotes:
[1] Whenhetired of movingorgans and heads around, Demikhov moved
onto entiredoghalves. His book details anoperationinwhichtwo dogs
weresplit at thediaphragm, their upper and lower halves swapped, and
their arteries grafted back together. Heexplained that this might beless
time-consumingthantransplantingtwo or threeindividual organs.
Giventhat thepatients spinal nerves, oncesevered, could not be
reconnected and thelower half of thebody would beparalyzed, the
procedurefailed to generatemuchenthusiasm.
[2] Legendary for skeweringheads of state, fromKissinger to Arafat ("a
manbornto irritate"). Fallaci stuck it to Whiteby makingup anamefor
theanonymous labmonkey whosebrainshehad watched beingisolated
and for writingthings likethis: "While[thebrainremoval and hookup]
happened, no onepaid any attentionto Libby's body, whichwas lying
lifeless. Professor Whitemight havefed it, too, withblood, and madeit
survivewithout ahead. But Professor Whitedidn't chooseto, and so the
body lay there, forgotten."
10
EatMe
Medicinal cannibalismandthecaseof thehumandumplings
Inthegrand bazaars of twelfth-century Arabia, it was occasionally
possible, if youknew whereto look and youhad alot of cashand atote
bagyoudidn't careabout, to procureanitemknownas mellified man.
Theverb"to mellify" comes fromtheLatinfor honey, mel. Mellified man
was dead humanremains steeped inhoney. Its other namewas "human
mummy confection," thoughthis is misleading, for, unlikeother honey-
steeped MiddleEasternconfections, this onedid not get served for
dessert. Oneadministered it topically and, I amsorry to say, orally as
medicine.
Thepreparationrepresented anextraordinary effort, bothonthepart of
theconfectioners and, morenotably, onthepart of theingredients:
In Arabia there are men 70 to 80 years old
who are willing to give their bodies to save
others. The subject does not eat food, he only
bathes and partakes of honey. After a month he
only excretes honey (the urine and feces are
entirely honey) and death follows. His fellow
men place him in a stone coffin full of honey
in which he macerates. The date is put upon
the coffin giving the year and month. After a
hundred years the seals are removed. A
confection is formed which is used for the
treatment of broken and wounded limbs. A small
amount taken internally will immediately cure
the complaint.
Theaboverecipeappears intheChineseMateriaMedica, a1597
compendiumof medicinal plants and animals compiled by thegreat
naturalist Li Shih-chen. Li is careful to point out that hedoes not know
for certainwhether themellified manstory is true. This is less comforting
thanit sounds, for it means that whenLi Shih-chendoesnot makeapoint
of questioningtheveracity of aMateriaMedicaentry, hefeels certainthat
it is true. This tells us that thefollowingwerealmost certainly used as
medicineinsixteenth-century China: humandandruff ("best takenfroma
fat man"), humankneedirt, humanear wax, humanperspiration, old
drumskins ("ashed and applied to thepenis for difficult urination"), "the
juicesqueezed out of pig's feces," and "dirt fromtheproximal end of a
donkey's tail."
Themedicinal useof mummifiedthoughnot usually mellified
humans is well documented inchemistry books of sixteenth-,
seventeenth-, and eighteenth-century Europe, but nowhereoutside
Arabiawerethecorpses volunteers. Themost sought-after mummies
weresaid to bethoseof caravanmembers overcomeby sandstorms inthe
Libyandesert. "This suddensuffocationdothconcentratethespirits inall
theparts by reasonof thefear and suddensurprisal whichseizes onthe
travellers," wroteNicolas LeFvre, author of A Compleat Bodyof
Chymistry. (Suddendeathalso lessened thelikelihood that thebody was
diseased.) Others claimed themummy's medicinal properties derived
fromDead Seabitumen, apitchlikesubstancewhichtheEgyptians were
thought, at thetime, to haveused as anembalmingagent.
Needless to say, thereal deal out of Libyawas scarce. LeFvreoffered a
recipefor home-brewed mummy elixir usingtheremains of "ayoung,
lusty man" (other writers further specified that theyouthbearedhead).
Therequisitesurprisal was to havebeensupplied by suffocation,
hanging, or impalement. A recipewas provided for drying, smoking, and
blending(oneto threegrains of mummy inamixtureof viper's fleshand
spirit of wine) theflesh, but LeFvreoffered no hint of how or whereto
procureit, short of suffocatingor impalingtheyoungcarrot-top oneself.
Therewas for atimeatradeinfakemummies beingsold by Jews in
Alexandria. They had apparently started out sellingauthenticmummies
raided fromcrypts, promptingtheauthor C. J. S. ThompsoninThe
MysteryandArt of theApothecaryto observethat "theJew eventually had
his revengeonhis ancient oppressors." Whenstocks of real mummies
worethin, thetraders beganconcoctingfakes. PierrePomet, private
druggist to KingLouis XIV, wroteinthe1737editionof A Compleat
Historyof Druggsthat his colleagueGuy delaFontainehad traveled to
Alexandriato "haveocular demonstrationof what hehad heard so much
of" and found, inoneman's shop, all manner of diseased and decayed
bodies beingdoctored withpitch, wrapped inbandages, and dried in
ovens. So commonwas this black market tradethat pharmaceutical
authorities likePomet offered tips for prospectivemummy shoppers:
"Choosewhat is of afineshiningblack, not full of bones and dirt, of good
smell and whichbeingburnt does not stink of pitch." A. C.Wootton, in
his 1910Chroniclesof Pharmacy, writes that celebrated Frenchsurgeonand
author AmbroiseParclaimed ersatz mummy was beingmaderight in
Paris, fromdesiccated corpses stolenfromthegibbets under cover of
night. Parhastened to add that henever prescribed it. Fromwhat I can
tell hewas intheminority. Pomet wrotethat hestocked it inhis
apothecary (thoughheaverred that "its greatest useis for catchingfish").
C. J. S. Thompson, whosebook was published in1929, claimed that
humanmummy could still befound at that timeinthedrug-bazaars of
theNear East.
Mummy elixir was arather strikingexampleof thecurebeingworsethan
thecomplaint. Thoughit was prescribed for conditions rangingfrom
palsy to vertigo, by far its most commonusewas as atreatment for
contusions and preventingcoagulationof blood: Peoplewereswallowing
decayed humancadaver for thetreatment of bruises. Seventeenth-century
druggist JohannBecher, quoted inWootton, maintained that it was "very
beneficial inflatulency" (which, if hemeant as acausativeagent, I do not
doubt). Other examples of human-sourced pharmaceuticals surely
causingmoredistress thanthey relieved includestrips of cadaver skin
tied around thecalves to prevent cramping, "old liquified placenta" to
"quietenapatient whosehair stands up without cause" (I'mquotingLi
Shih-chenonthis oneand thenext),"clear liquid feces" for worms ("the
smell will induceinsects to crawl out of any of thebody orifices and
relieveirritation"), freshblood injected into thefacefor eczema(popular
inFranceat thetimeThompsonwas writing), gallstonefor hiccoughs,
tartar of humanteethfor wasp bite, tinctureof humannavel for sore
throat, and thespittleof awomanapplied to theeyes for ophthalmia.
(Theancient Romans, Jews, and Chinesewereall salivaenthusiasts,
thoughas far as I cantell youcouldn't useyour own. Treatments would
specify thetypeof spittlerequired: womanspittle, newbornman-child
spittle, evenImperial Saliva, Romanemperors apparently contributingto
acommunity spittoonfor thewelfareof thepeople. Most physicians
delivered thesubstanceby eyedropper, or prescribed it as asort of
tincture, althoughinLi Shih-chen's day, for cases of "nightmaredueto
attack by devils," theunfortunatesufferer was treated by "quietly spitting
into theface.")
Evenincases of serious illness, thepatient was sometimes better off
ignoringthedoctor's prescription. Accordingto theChineseMateria
Medica, diabetics wereto betreated with"acupful of urinefromapublic
latrine." (Anticipatingresistance, thetext instructs that theheinous drink
be"givensecretly") Another examplecomes fromNicholas Lemery,
chemist and member of theRoyal Academy of Sciences, who wrotethat
anthraxand plaguecould betreated withhumanexcrement. Lemery did
not takecredit for thediscovery, citinginstead, inhisA Courseof
Chymistry, aGermannamed Hombergwho in1710delivered beforethe
Royal Academyatalk onthemethod of extracting"anadmirable
phosphorus fromaman's excrements, whichhefound out after much
applicationand pains"; Lemery reported themethod inhis book ("Take
four ounces of humaneExcrement newly made, of ordinary
consistency"). Homberg's fecal phosphorus was said to actually glow,
anocular demonstrationof whichI would givemy eyeteeth(useful for
thetreatment for malaria, breast abscess, and eruptivesmallpox) to see.
Hombergmay havebeenthefirst to makeit glow, but hewasn't thefirst
to prescribeit. Themedical useof humanfeces had beenaround since
Pliny's day. TheChineseMateriaMedicaprescribes it not only inliquid,
ash, and soup formfor everythingfromepidemicfevers to the
treatment of children's genital soresbut also ina"roasted" version. The
thinkingwent that dungis essentially, inthecaseof thehuman
variety,[1] bread and meat reduced to their simplest elements and
thereby "rendered fit for theexerciseof their virtues," to quoteA. C.
Wootton.
Not all cadavericmedicines weresold by professional druggists. The
Colosseumfeatured occasional backstageconcessions of blood from
freshly slaingladiators, whichwas thought to cureepilepsy,[2] but only if
takenbeforeit had cooled. Ineighteenth-century Germany and France,
executioners padded their pockets by collectingtheblood that flowed
fromthenecks of guillotined criminals; by this timeblood was being
prescribed not only for epilepsy, but for gout and dropsy.[3] As with
mummy elixir, it was believed that for humanblood to becurativeit
must comefromamanwho had died inastateof youthand vitality, not
someonewho had wasted away fromdisease; executed criminals fit the
bill nicely. It was whentheprescriptioncalled for bathingintheblood of
infants, or theblood of virgins, that things beganto turnugly. The
diseaseinquestionwas most oftenleprosy, and thedosagewas
measured out inbathtubs rather thaneyedroppers. Whenleprosy fell
upontheprinces of Egypt, wrotePliny, "woeto thepeople, for inthe
bathingchambers, tubs wereprepared, withhumanblood for thecureof
it."
Oftentheexecutioners' stock included humanfat as well, whichwas used
to treat rheumatism, joint pain, and thepoetic-soundingthoughprobably
quitepainful falling-away limbs. Body snatchers werealso said to ply the
fat trade, as weresixteenth-century Dutcharmy surgeons inthewar for
independencefromSpain, who used to rushonto thefield withtheir
scalpels and buckets intheaftermathof apitched battle. To competewith
thebargainbasement prices of theexecutioners, whoseproduct was
packaged and sold moreor less likesuet, seventeenth-century druggists
would fancy up thegoods by addingaromaticherbs and lyrical product
names; seventeenth-century editions of theCordicDispensatory included
WomanButter and Poor Sinner's Fat. This had longbeenthepractice
withmany of thedruggists' less savory offerings: Druggists intheMiddle
Ages sold menstrual blood as Maid's Zenithand prettied it up with
rosewater. C.J. S.Thompson's book includes arecipefor Spirit of theBrain
of Man, whichincludes not only brain("withall its membranes, arteries,
veins and nerves"), but peony, black cherries, lavender, and lily.
Thompsonwrites that therationalebehind many of thehumanremedies
was simpleassociation. Turningyellow fromjaundice? Try aglass of
urine. Losingyour hair? Rubyour scalp withdistilled hair elixir. Not
right inthehead? Haveasnort of Spirit of Skull. Marrow and oil distilled
fromhumanbones wereprescribed for rheumatism, and humanurinary
sediment was said to counteract bladder stones.
Insomecases, unseemly humancures weregrounded inasort of
sideways medical truth. Biledidn't curedeafness per se, but if your
hearingproblemwas caused by abuildup of earwax, theacidy substance
probably worked to dissolveit. Humantoenail isn't atrueemetic, but one
canimaginethat anoral dosemight encouragevomiting. Likewise, "clear
liquid feces" isn't atrueantidoteto poisonous mushrooms, but if getting
mushrooms up and out of your patient's stomachis theaim, there's
probably nothingquiteas effective. Therepellent natureof feces also
explains its useas atopical applicationfor prolapsed uterus. Sinceback
beforeHippocrates' day, physicians had viewed thefemalereproductive
systemnot as anorganbut as anindependent entity, amysterious
creaturewithawill of its own, proneto haphazard "wanderings." If the
uterus dropped downout of placefollowingchildbirth, asmear of
somethingfoul-smellingoftendungwas prescribed tocoaxit back up
whereit belonged. Theactiveingredient inhumansalivawas no doubt
thenatural antibioticit contains; this would explainits useintreating
dogbite, eyeinfection, and "fetid perspiration," eventhoughno oneat
thetimeunderstood themechanism.
Giventhat minor ailments suchas bruises, coughs, dyspepsia, and
flatulencedisappear ontheir owninamatter of days, it's easy to seehow
rumors of efficacy cameabout. Controlled trials wereunheard of;
everythingwas based onanecdotal evidence. WegaveMrs. Petersonsome
shit for her quinsyandnowshe'sdoingfine! I talked to Robert Berkow,
editor of theMerckManual, for 104years thebest-sellingphysicians'
referencebook, about thegenesis of bizarreand wholly unproven
medicines. "Whenyouconsider that asugar pill for painrelief will get a
twenty-fiveto forty percent response," hesaid, "youcanbeginto
understand how someof thesetreatments cameto berecommended." It
wasn't until about 1920, headded, that "theaveragepatient withthe
averageillness seeingtheaveragephysiciancameoff better for the
encounter."
Thepopularity of someof thesehumanelixirs probably had less to do
withthepurported effectiveingredient thanwiththebase. Therecipein
Thompson's book for abatchof KingCharles' DropsKingCharles II ran
abrisk sidebusiness inhumanskull tinctures out of his private
laboratory inWhitehallcontained not only Spirit of Skull but ahalf
pound of opiumand four fingers (theunit of measurement, not theactual
digits) of spirit of wine. Mouse, goose, and horseexcrements, used by
Europeans to treat epilepsy, weredissolved inwineor beer. Likewise
powdered humanpenis, as prescribed intheChineseMateriaMedica, was
"takenwithalcohol." Thestuff might not cureyou, but it would easethe
painand put ashineonyour mood.
Off-puttingas cadavericmedicinemay be, it islikecultural differences
incuisinemainly amatter of what you'reaccustomed to. Treating
rheumatismwithbonemarrow or scrofulawithsweat is scarcely more
radical or ghoulishthantreating, say, dwarfismwithhumangrowth
hormone. Weseenothingdistasteful ininjections of humanblood, yet the
thought of soakinginit makes us cringe. I'mnot advocatingareturnto
medicinal earwax, but alittlecalmis inorder. As Bernard E. Read, editor
of the1976editionof theChineseMateriaMedica, pointed out, "Today
peoplearefeverishly examiningevery typeof animal tissuefor active
principles, hormones, vitamines and specificremedies for disease, and
thediscovery of adrenaline, insulin, theelin, menotoxin, and others,
compels anopenmind that onemay reachbeyond theunaestheticsetting
of thesubject to things worthwhile."
Those of us who undertook the experiment
pooled our money to purchase cadavers from the
city morgue, choosing the bodies of persons
who had died of violencewho had been freshly
killed and were not diseased or senile. We
lived on this cannibal diet for two months and
everyone's health improved.
So wrotethepainter Diego Riverainhis memoir, MyArt, MyLife. He
explains that he'd heard astory of aParisianfur dealer who fed his cats
cat meat to maketheir pelts firmer and glossier. And that in1904, heand
somefellow anatomy studentsanatomy beingacommonrequirement
for art students decided to try it for themselves. It's possibleRivera
madethis up, but it makes alively introductionto modern-day human
medicinals, so I thought I'd throw it in.
Outsideof Rivera, theclosest anyonehas gottento Spirit of Skull or
Maid's Zenithinthetwentiethcentury is inthemedicinal useof cadaver
blood. In1928, aSoviet surgeonby thenameof V. N. Shamov attempted
to seeif blood fromthedead could beused inplaceof blood fromlive
donors for transfusions. IntheSoviet tradition, Shamov experimented
first ondogs. Provided theblood was removed fromthecorpsewithinsix
hours, hefound, thetransfused canines showed no adversereactions. For
sixto eight hours, theblood insideadead body remains sterileand the
red blood cells retaintheir oxygen-carryingcapabilities.
Two years later, theSklifosovsky InstituteinMoscow got wind of
Shamov's work and begantryingit out onhumans. So enamored of the
techniquewerethey that aspecial operatingroomwas built to which
cadavers weredelivered. "Thecadavers arebrought by first-aid
ambulances fromthestreet, offices, and other places wheresuddendeath
overtakes humanbeings," wroteB. A. Petrov intheOctober 1959issueof
Surgery. Robert White, theneurosurgeonfromChapter 9, told methat
duringtheSoviet era, cadavers belonged officially to thestate, and if the
statewanted to do somethingwiththem, thendo somethingit did.
(Presumably thebodies, oncedrained, werereturned to thefamily.)
Corpses donateblood muchtheway peopledo, except that theneedle
goes inat theneck instead of thearm, and thebody, lackingaworking
heart, has to betilted so theblood pours out, rather thanbeingpumped.
Thecadaver, wrotePetrov, was to beplaced in"theextreme
Trendelenburgposition." His paper includes alinedrawingof thejugular
veinbeingentubed and aphotographof thespecial sterileampules into
whichtheblood flows, thoughinmy opinionthespacewould havebeen
better used to illustratetheintriguingand mysterious Trendelenburg
position. I amintrigued only becauseI spent amonthwithablack-and-
whitephotographof the"Sims positionfor gynecological examination"[4]
onmy wall, courtesy of the2001Mtter Museumcalendar. ("Thepatient
is to lieontheleft side," wroteDr. Sims. "Thethighs areto beflexed,the
right beingdrawnup alittlemorethantheleft. Theleft armis thrown
behind across theback and thechest rotated forwards." It is alanguorous,
highly provocativeposition, and onehas to wonder whether it was the
easeof access it afforded or thesimilarity to cheesecakeposes of theday
that led our Dr. Sims to promoteits use.)
TheTrendelenburgposition, I found out (by reading"Beyond the
TrendelenburgPosition: FriedrichTrendelenburg's Lifeand Surgical
Contributions" inthejournal Surgery, for I ameasily distracted) simply
refers to lyingina45-degreeincline; Trendelenburgused it during
genitourinary surgery to tilt theabdominal organs up and out of theway.
Thepaper's authors describeTrendelenburgas agreat innovator, agiant
inthefield of surgery, and they mournthefact that suchan
accomplished manis remembered for oneof his slightest contributions to
medical science. I will compound thecrimeby mentioninganother of his
slight contributions to medical science, theuseof "Havanacigars to
improvethefoul hospital air." Ironically, thepaper identified
Trendelenburgas anoutspokencriticof therapeuticbloodletting, though
heregistered no opiniononthecadavericvariety.
For twenty-eight years, theSklifosovsky Institutehappily transfused
cadaver blood, sometwenty-fivetons of thestuff, meeting70percent of
its clinics' needs. Oddly or not so oddly, cadaver blood donationfailed to
catchonoutsidetheSoviet Union. IntheUnited States, onemanand one
manalonedared try it. It seems Dr. Deathearned his nicknamelong
beforeit was givento him. In1961, Jack Kevorkiandrained four cadavers
accordingto theSoviet protocol and transfused their blood into four
livingpatients. All responded moreor less as they would havehad the
donor beenalive. Kevorkiandid not tell thefamilies of thedead blood
donors what hewas doing, usingtherationalethat blood is drained from
bodies anyway duringembalming. Healso remained mumonthe
recipient end, optingnot to tell his four unwittingsubjects that theblood
flowinginto their veins camefromacorpse. His rationaleinthis casewas
that thetechnique, havingbeendonefor thirty years intheSoviet Union,
was clearly safeand that any objections thepatients might havehad
would havebeenno morethanan"emotional reactionto anew and
slightly distasteful idea." It's thesort of defensethat might work well for
thosemaladjusted cooks that youhear about who delight injerkingoff
into thepastasauce.
Of all thehumanparts and pieces mentioned intheChineseMateria
Medicaand inthewritings of Thompson, Lemery, and Pomet, I could find
only oneother inuseas medicinetoday. Placentais occasionally
consumed by Europeanand Americanwomento staveoff postpartum
depression. Youdon't get placentafromthedruggist as youdid in
Lemery's or Li Shih-chen's time(to relievedelirium, weakness, loss of
willpower, and pinkeye); youcook and eat your own. Thetraditionis
sufficiently mainstreamto appear onahalf-dozenpregnancy Websites.
TheVirtual BirthCenter tells us how to preparePlacentaCocktail (8
oz.V-8, 2icecubes, cup carrot, and cup raw placenta, pured ina
blender for 10seconds), PlacentaLasagna, and PlacentaPizza. Thelatter
two suggest that someoneother thanMomwill bepartakingthat it's
beingcooked up for dinner, say, or thePTA potluckand onedearly
hopes that theguests havebeengivenaheads-up. TheU.K.-based
Mothers 35Plus sitelists "several sumptuous recipes," includingroast
placentaand dehydrated placenta. Ever thetrailblazers, Britishtelevision
aired agarlic-fried placentasegment onthepopular Channel 4cooking
showTV Dinners. Despitewhat onenews report described as "sensitive"
treatment of thesubject, thesegment, whichranin1998, garnered nine
viewer complaints and aslap onthewrist fromtheBroadcasting
Standards Commission.
To seewhether any of thehumanChineseMateriaMedicapreparations are
still used inmodernChina, I contacted thescholar and author Key Ray
Chong, author of CannibalisminChina. Under thebland and benign-
soundingheading"Medical Treatment for Loved Ones," Chongdescribes
arather gruesomehistorical phenomenonwhereinchildren, most often
daughters-in-law, wereobliged to demonstratefilial piety to ailing
parents, most oftenmothers-in-law, by hackingoff apieceof themselves
and preparingit as arestorativeelixir. Thepracticebeganinearnest
duringtheSungDynasty (960-1126) and continued throughtheMing
Dynasty, and up to theearly 1900s. Chongpresents theevidenceinthe
formof alist, eachentry detailingthesourceof theinformation, the
donor, thebeneficiary, thebody part removed, and thetypeof dish
prepared fromit. Soups and porridges, always popular amongthesick,
werethemost commondishes, thoughintwo instances broiled flesh
oneright breast and onethigh/upper armcombowas served. Inwhat
may well betheearliest documented caseof stomachreduction, one
enterprisingsonpresented his father with"lard of left waist." Thoughthe
list format is easy ontheeyes, thereareinstances whereoneaches for
moreinformation: Did theyounggirl who gaveher mother-in-law her
left eyeball do so to provethedepthof her devotion, or to horrify and
spitethewoman? Examples for theMingDynasty wereso numerous that
Chonggaveup onlistingindividual instances and presented them
instead as tallies by category: Intotal, some286pieces of thigh, thirty-
sevenpieces of arm, twenty-four livers, thirteenunspecified cuts of flesh,
four fingers, two ears, two broiled breasts, two ribs, onewaist loin, one
knee, and onestomachskinwerefed to sickly elders.
Interestingly, Li Shih-chendisapproved of thepractice. "Li Shih-chen
acknowledged thesepractices amongtheignorant masses," wroteRead,
"but hedid not consider that any parent, however ill, should expect such
sacrifices fromtheir children." ModernChineseno doubt agreewithhim,
thoughreports of thepracticeoccasionally crop up. Chongcites aTaiwan
Newsstory fromMay 1987inwhichadaughter cut off apieceof her
thighto cook up acurefor her ailingmother.
AlthoughChongwrites inhis book that "eventoday, inthePeople's
Republicof China, theuseof humanfingers, toes, nails, dried urine, feces
and breast milk arestrongly recommended by thegovernment to cure
certaindiseases" (hecites the1977ChungYaoTaTz'uTien, theGreat
Dictionaryof ChinesePharmacology), hecould not put meintouchwith
anyonewho actually partakes, and I moreor less abandoned my search.
Then, several weeks later, ane-mail arrived fromhim. It contained a
story fromtheJapanTimesthat week, entitled "ThreeMillionChinese
Drink Urine." Around that sametime, I happened uponastory onthe
Internet, originally published intheLondonDailyTelegraph, whichbased
its story ononefromtheday beforeinthenow-defunct HongKong
EasternExpress. Thearticlestated that privateand state-runclinics and
hospitals inShenzhen, outsideHongKong, sold or gaveaway aborted
fetuses as atreatment for skinproblems and asthmaand as ageneral
healthtonic. "Therearetenfoetuses here, all aborted this morning," the
Expressreporter claims shewas told whilevisitingtheShenzhenHealth
Centrefor Womenand Childrenundercover and askingfor fetuses.
"Normally wedoctors takethemhometo eat. Sinceyoudon't look well,
youcantakethem." Thearticlebordered onthefarcical. It had hospital
cleaningwomen"fightingeachother to takethetreasured human
remains home," sleazy unnamed chaps inHongKongback alleys
charging$300per fetus, and asheepishbusinessman"introduced to
foetuses byfriends" furtively makinghis way to Shenzhenwithhis
Thermos flask every coupleof weeks to bringback "20or 30at atime" for
his asthma.
Inboththis instanceand that of thethreemillionurine-quaffingChinese,
I didn't know whether thereports weretrue, partially true, or instances
of bald-faced Chinese-bashing. Aimingto find out, I contacted Sandy
Wan, aChineseinterpreter and researcher who had donework for me
beforeinChina. As it turned out, Sandy used to liveinShenzhen, had
heard of theclinics mentioned inthearticle, and still had friends there
friends who werewillingto pose, bless their hearts, as fetus-seeking
patients. Her friends, aMiss Wuand aMr. Gai, started out at theprivate
clinics, sayingthey'd heard it was possibleto buy fetuses for medicinal
purposes. Bothgot thesameanswer: It used to bepossible, but the
government of Shenzhenhad sometimeago declared it illegal to sell
bothfetuses and placentas. Thetwo weretold that thematerials were
collected by a"healthcareproductioncompany withaunified
management." It soonbecameclear what that meant and what was being
donewiththe"materials." At thestate-runShenzhenPeople's Hospital,
theregion's largest, Miss Wuwent to theChinesemedicinedepartment
to ask adoctor for treatment for theblemishes onher face. Thedoctor
recommended amedicationcalled Tai Bao Capsules, whichweresold in
thehospital dispensary for about $2.50abottle. WhenMiss Wuasked
what themedicationwas, thedoctor replied that it was madefrom
abortus, as it is called there, and placenta, and that it was very good for
theskin. Meanwhile, over intheinternal medicinedepartment, Mr. Gai
had claimed to haveasthmaand told thedoctor that his friends had
recommended abortus. Thedoctor said hehadn't heard of sellingfetuses
to patients directly, and that they weretakenaway by acompany
controlled by theBoard of Health, whichwas authorized to makethem
into capsulestheTai Bao Capsules that had beenprescribed to Miss
Wu.
Sandy read the Expressarticleto afriend who works as adoctor in
Haikou, wherethetwo womenlive. Whileher friend felt that thearticle
was exaggerated, shealso felt that fetal tissuedid havehealthbenefits
and approved of makinguseof it. "It is apity," shesaid, "to throw them
away withother rubbish." (Sandy herself, aChristian, finds thepractice
immoral.)
It seems to methat theChinese, relativeto Americans, haveavastly more
practical, less emotional outlook whenit comes to what peopleput in
their mouths. Tai Bao capsules notwithstanding, I'mwiththeChinese.
Thefact that Americans lovedogs doesn't makeit immoral for the
Chineseof Peixiancity, who apparently don't lovedogs, to wrap dog
meat inpitabread and eat it for breakfast, just as theHindu's reverence
for cows doesn't makeit wrongfor us to maketheminto belts and meat
loaves. Weareall products of our upbringing, our culture, our need to
conform. Therearethose(okay, oneperson) who feel that cannibalism
has its placeinastrictly rational society: "Whenmanevolves a
civilizationhigher thanthemechanized but still primitiveonehehas
now," wroteDiego Riverainhis memoir, "theeatingof humanfleshwill
besanctioned. For thenmanwill havethrownoff all of his superstitions
and irrational taboos."
Of course, theissueof takingfetus pills is complicated by the
involvement and rights of themother. If ahospital wants to sellor even
giveawaywomen's aborted fetuses to maketheminto pills, they oweit
to thosewomento ask for their consent. To do elsewiseis callous and
disrespectful.
Any attempt to market Tai Bao Capsules intheUnited States would be
disastrous, owingto conservativereligious views about thestatus of all
fetuses as full-fledged humanbeingswithall therights and powers
accorded their morecellularly differentiated brethren, and to good old-
fashioned Americansqueamishness. TheChinesearesimply not a
squeamishpeople. Sandy oncetold meabout afamous Chineserecipe
called ScreamThreeTimes, inwhichnewbornmicearetakenfromtheir
mothers (thefirst scream), dropped inahot fry pot (second scream), and
eaten(third scream). Thenagain, wedrop livelobsters into boilingwater
and rid our homes of miceby gluingdowntheir feet and lettingthem
starve, so let us not rushto cast thefirst stone.
I beganto wonder: Would any culturego so far as to usehumanfleshas
food simply out of practicality?
Chinahas alongand vivid history of cannibalism, but I'mnot convinced
that thetaboo against it is any weaker therethanelsewhere. Of the
thousands of instances of cannibalismthroughout China's history, the
vast majority of theperpetrators weredrivento theact either by
starvationor thedesireto express hatred or exact revengeduringwar.
Indeed, without astrongcannibalismtaboo, theeatingof one's enemy's
heart or liver would not havebeentheact of psychological brutality that
it clearly was.
Key Ray Chongmanaged to unearthonly tencases of what hecalls "taste
cannibalism": eatingthefleshor organs of thedead not becauseyouhave
nothingelseto eat or youdespiseyour enemy or you'retryingto curean
ailingparent, but simply becauseit's tasty and apity to wasteit. He
writes that inyears past, another jobperk of theChineseexecutionerin
additionto supplemental incomefromhumanblood and fat saleswas
that hewas allowed to taketheheart and brains homefor supper. In
moderntimes, humanmeat for privateconsumptiontends to comefrom
murder victimscannibalismprovidingat onceamemorablerepast and
ahandy means of disposingof thebody. Chongrelates thetaleof a
coupleinBeijingwho killed ateenager, cooked his flesh, and shared it
withtheneighbors, tellingthemit was camel meat. Accordingto the
story, whichranintheChineseDailyNews onApril 8,1985, thecouple
confessed that their motivehad beenastrongcravingfor humanflesh,
developed duringwartime, whenfood was scarce. Chongdoesn't find
thestory far-fetched. Becausestarvationcannibalismwas widespread in
thecountry's history, hebelieves that someChinese, incertainhard-hit
regions, over timemay havedeveloped atastefor humanflesh.
It is said to bequitegood. TheColorado prospector Alfred Packer, who,
after his provisions ranout, beganlunchingonthefivecompanions he
was later accused of killing, told areporter in1883that thebreasts of men
were"thesweetest meat" he'd ever tasted. A sailor onthedamaged and
driftingschooner SallieM. Steelmanin1878described thefleshof oneof
thedead crewmanas being"as good as any beefsteak" heever ate.
Riveraif weareto believehis anatomy labtaleconsidered thelegs,
breasts, and breaded ribs of thefemalecadavers "delicacies," and
especially relished "women's brains invinaigrette."
DespiteChong's theory about Chinesepeople's occasionally acquiringa
tastefor humanmeat and despiteChina's natural culinary inhibition,
instances of modern-day tastecannibalismarehard to find and even
harder to verify. Accordingto a1991Reuters article("Diners Loved
Human-FleshDumplings"), amanwho worked inacrematoriumin
HainanProvincewas caught hackingthebuttocks and thighs off
cadavers prior to incinerationand bringingthemeat to his brother, who
ranthenearby WhiteTempleRestaurant. For threeyears, thestory went,
WangGuangwas doingabrisk business in"Sichuan-styledumplings"
madewithfleshfromthenether regions of his brother Hui's customers.
Thebrothers werecaught whentheparents of ayoungwomankilled ina
road accident wanted to havealast look at her beforecremation. "On
discoveringthat her buttocks had beenremoved," wrotethereporter,
"they called thepolice." A second Reuters story oncannibalistic
crematoriumworkers cropped up onMay 6, 2002. Thearticledetailed the
escapades of two PhnomPenhmenaccusedbut not prosecuted, for
therewas no law against cannibalismof eatinghumanfingers and toes
"washed downwithwine."
Thestories smacked of urbanmyth. Sandy Wantold meshe'd heard a
similar story about aChineserestaurant owner who sees anaccident and
rushes over to sliceoff thebuttocks of thedead driver to usethemas
fillinginsteamed meat buns. And theHainanReuters articlehad
questionableelements: How would theparents haveseentheir
daughter's buttocks? Presumably shewas onher back inacoffinwhen
they brought her out for afinal viewing. And why would theoriginal
article, fromtheHainanSpecial ZoneDaily, supply thenames of themen
but not their town? Thenagain, this was Reuters. They don't makethings
up. Do they?
Supper onChinaSouthAirways was anunsliced hamburger bunand a
puckered and unadorned wiener, rollinglooseinapressed aluminum
container. Thewiener was too small for thebun, too small for any bun,
toosmall for its ownskin. Evenfor airlinefood, themeal was repugnant.
Theflight attendant, havinghanded out thelast of themeals,
immediately about-faced, returned to thefront of theplane, and began
pickingthemup and droppingtheminto agarbagebag, onthejust and
accurateassumptionthat no onewas goingto eat them.
If theWhiteTempleRestaurant still existed, I would beableto order an
equally off-puttingmeal inabout anhour. Theplanewas landingshortly
onHainanIsland, alleged homeof thebuttock boys. I had beeninHong
Kongand decided to hop over to Hainanto look into thestory. Hainan
Provinceturns out to berelatively small; it's anisland off China's
southwest coast. Theisland has only onelargecity, Haikou, and Haikou,
I found out by e-mailingtheWebmaster of theofficial HainanWindow
Websiteand pretendingto beafuneral professional (ajournalistic
inquiry had goneunanswered), has acrematorium. If thestory was true,
this had to bewhereit happened. I would go to thecrematoriumand try
to track downHui and WangGuang. I would ask themabout their
motives. Werethey cheap and greedy, or werethey simply practical
two well-meaningfellows who hated to seegood meat go to waste? Did
they seeno wrongintheir actions? Did they themselves eat and enjoy the
dumplings? Did they think all humancadavers should berecycled this
way?
My communications withtheHainanWebmaster had led meto believe
that Haikouwas asmall, compact city, almost moreof atown, and that
most peoplespokesomeEnglish. TheWebmandid not havetheaddress
of thecrematorium, but thought I could find it by askingaround. "Even
just ask ataxi driver," hewrote.
It took ahalf hour to evenjust ask ataxi driver to takemeto my hotel.
Likeall taxi drivers and almost everyoneelseinHaikou, hespokeno
English. Why should he? Few foreigners cometo Hainan, only holiday-
makingChinesefromthemainland. Thedriver eventually telephoned a
friend who spokesomeEnglishand I found myself inthemidst of avast,
urbansprawl inamodernhigh-risewithhugered Chinesecharacters on
its roof spellingout, I supposed, thehotel's name. Chinesebig-city hotel
rooms aremodeled after their Westerncounterparts, withtriangulated
toilet paper ends and complimentary shower caps; however, thereis
always somethingslightly, ever so charmingly off. Here, it was atiny
bottlelabeled "ShamPoo" and aflyer offeringtheservices of ablind
masseuse. (Oh, madam! I'msosorry! I thought that wasyour back! Yousee
I'mblind. ) Exhausted, I collapsed onthebed, whichmadeashrieking,
assaulted noise, suggestingthat it could as easily havebeenthebed that
collapsed onme.
InthemorningI approached thereceptiondesk. Oneof thegirls spokea
littleEnglish, whichwas helpful, thoughshehad anunsettlinghabit of
saying"Areyouokay?" inplaceof "How areyou?" as thoughI'd tripped
ontherugcomingout of theelevator. Sheunderstood "taxi" and pointed
to oneoutside.
Thenight before, inpreparationfor my journey, I had drawnapictureto
giveto thecabdriver. It showed abody hoveringaboveflames, and to the
right of this I drew anurn, thoughthelatter had comeout lookinglikea
samovar, and therewas adistinct possibility that thedriver would think I
was lookingfor aplaceto get Mongolianbarbecue. Thedriver looked at
thepieceof paper, seemed to understand, and pulled out into traffic. We
drovefor alongtime, and it seemed wemight actually beheaded for the
outskirts of town, wherethecrematoriumwas said to be. And thenI saw
my hotel go by ontheright. Weweredrivingincircles. What was going
on? Did theblind masseusemoonlight as acabdriver? This was not good.
I was not okay. I motioned to my merrily revolvingdriver to pull over,
and I pointed to theChineseTourismAgency officeonthemap.
Eventually thetaxi pulled up outsideabrightly lit fried chicken
establishment, thesort of placethat intheUnited States might proclaim
"WeDo ChickenRight!" but hereproclaimed "Do MeChicken!" The
cabdriver turned to collect his fare. Weshouted at eachother for awhile,
and eventually hegot out and walked over to atiny, dimstorefront next
to thechickenplaceand pointed vigorously to asign. Designated
Foreign-Oriented Tourist Unit, it said. Well, do mechicken. Themanwas
right.
Inside, thetourist unit was havingacigarettebreak, which, judgingfrom
thedensity of thesmoke, had beengoingonfor sometime, years
possibly. Thewalls werebarecement and part of theceilingwas falling
in. Therewereno travel brochures or traintimetables, only amap of the
world and asmall wall-mounted shrinewithared electriccandleand a
bowl of offerings. Thegods werehavingapples. Intheback of theoffice,
I could seetwo brand-new shrink-wrapped chairs. This struck meas an
odd purchasingdecision, what withtheceilingcollapsingand thevery
slimlikelihood that morethantwo or threetourists ayear cameinand
needed aplaceto sit.
I explained to thewomanthat I wanted to hireaninterpreter.
Miraculously, two phonecalls and half anhour later, oneappeared. It
was Sandy Wan, thewomanwho would later help metrack downthe
truthabout theabortus vendors. I explained that I needed to talk to
someoneat theHaikoucrematorium. Sandy's Englishvocabulary was
impressivebut, understandably, did not include"crematorium."
I described it as thebigbuildingwherethey burndead bodies. Shedidn't
catchthelast bit and thought I meant somesort of factory. "What kind of
material?" sheasked. Theentirestaff of thedesignated foreign-oriented
tourist unit werelookingon, tryingto follow theconversation.
"Dead people material." I smiled helplessly. "Dead bodies."
"Ah," said Sandy. Shedid not flinch. Sheexplained to thetourist unit,
who nodded as thoughthey got this sort of thingall thetime. Thenshe
asked mefor theaddress. WhenI replied that I didn't know it, shegot the
crematoriumphonenumber fromtheinformationoperator, called the
placeto get theaddress, and evenset up anappointment withthe
director. Shewas amazing. I couldn't imaginewhat shehad told theman,
or what shethought I needed to talk to himabout. I beganto feel alittle
sorry for thecrematoriumdirector, thinkinghewas about to bevisited by
agrievingforeignwidow, or perhaps someglad-handingretort salesman
thereto help himcut costs and maximizeefficiency.
Inthecab, I tried to think of away to explainto Sandy what I was about
to haveher do. I needyoutoaskthismanwhether hehadanemployeewhocut
thebutt cheeksoff cadaverstoserveinhisbrother'srestaurant. No matter how
I thought of phrasingit, it sounded ghastly and absurd. Why would I
need to know this? What kind of book was I writing? Fearingthat Sandy
might changeher mind, I said nothingabout thedumplings. I said that I
was writinganarticlefor afuneral industry magazine. Wewereoutside
thecity proper now. Trucks and scooters had gonescarce. Peopledrove
woodenoxcarts and woretheround, peaked sunhats youseeinrural
Vietnam, only thesewerefashioned fromlaminated newspaper. I
wondered if someone, somewhere, was wearingtheMarch23, 1991,
editionof theHainanSpecial ZoneDaily.
Thetaxi turned off onto adirt road. Wepassed abrick smokestack,
issuingclouds of black: thecrematorium. Farther downtheroad was the
accompanyingfuneral homeand thecrematoriumoffices. Wewere
directed up abroad marblestairway to thedirector's office. This could
only go poorly. TheChinesearewary of reporters, especially foreign
ones, and very especially foreignones suggestingthat your staff
mutilated thedead relations of payingcustomers to makedumplings.
What had I beenthinking?
Thedirector's officewas largeand sparsely furnished. Therewas nothing
onthewalls but aclock, as if no oneknew how to decoratefor death.
Sandy and I wereseated inleather chairs that sat low to thefloor, likecar
seats, and told that thedirector would beinto seeus shortly. Sandy
smiled at me, unawareof thehorror about to unfold. "Sandy," I blurted
out, "I haveto tell youwhat this is about! Therewas this guy who cut the
butts off dead bodies to giveto his brother to"
It was at that moment that thedirector walked in. Thedirector was a
stern-lookingChinesewoman, easily sixfeet tall. Frommy humbled
positionnear thefloor, sheseemed to beof superhumanproportions, as
tall as thesmokestack outsideand as likely to belchforthsmoke.
Thedirector sat downat her desk. Shelooked at me. Sandy looked at me.
Feelingseasick, I launched into my story. Sandy listened and, bless her,
betrayed no emotion. Sheturned to thedirector, who was not smiling,
had not smiled sincesheentered theroom, had possibly never smiled,
and shetold her what I had just said. Sherelayed thestory of Hui Guang,
explained that I thought hemight havebeenemployed here, and that I
wrotefor amagazineand that I hoped to find himand speak to him. The
director crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. I thought I saw her
nostrils flare. Her reply went onfor tenminutes. Sandy nodded politely
throughit all, withtheattentivecalmof apersonbeinggivenafast-food
order or directions to themall. I was very impressed. Thensheturned to
me. "Thedirector, sheis, ah, very angry. Thedirector is veryastonished
to havethesefacts. Shenever heard of this story. Shesays shehas known
all her workers, and shehas beenherefor morethantenyears and she
would know about this kind of story. Also, shefeels it is a really sick
story. And so shecannot help you." I would loveto seeafull transcript of
thedirector's reply, and thenagainI wouldn't.
Back inthecabI explained myself to Sandy as best I could. I apologized
for puttingher throughthis. Shelaughed. Webothlaughed. Welaughed
so hard that thecabdriver demanded to know what wewerelaughing
about, and helaughed too. Thecabdriver had grownup inHaikou, but
hehadn't heard thestory of theGuangbrothers. Neither, it later turned
out, had any of Sandy's friends. Wehad thedriver let us off at the
Haikoupubliclibrary to look for theoriginal article. As it turns out, no
paper named theHainanSpecial ZoneDaily exists, only theHainanSpecial
ZoneTimes, whichis aweekly. Sandy looked throughthepapers for the
week of March23, 1991, but therewas no mentionof thehuman
dumplings. Shealso checked old phonebooks for theWhiteTemple
Restaurant and found nothing.
Therewasn't muchmoreto do inHaikou, so I took thebus southto
Sanya, wherethebeaches arebeautiful and theweather is fineand there
is, I found out, another crematorium. (Sandy called thedirector and
received asimilarly indignant reply.) Onthebeachthat afternoon, I
spread my towel afew feet away fromawoodensignthat advised beach-
goers, "Do not spit at thebeach." Unless, I thought to myself, thebeach
suffers fromnightmares, ulcers, ophthalmia, or fetid perspiration.
Anthropologists will tell youthat thereasonpeoplenever dined
regularly onother peopleis economics. Whilethereexisted, I amtold,
cultures inCentral Americathat actually ranched humanskept enemy
soldiers captivefor awhileto fattenthemupit was not practical to do
so, becauseyouhad to giveup morefood to feed themthanyou'd gainin
theend by eatingthem. Carnivores and omnivores, inother words, make
lousy livestock. "Humans arevery inefficient inconvertingcalories into
body composition," said Stanley Garn, aretired anthropologist withthe
Center for HumanGrowthand Development at theUniversity of
Michigan. I had called himbecausehewroteanAmericanAnthropologist
paper onthetopicof humanfleshand its nutritional value. "Your cows,"
hesaid, "aremuchmoreefficient."
But I amnot so muchinterested incultures' eatingthefleshof their
captiveenemies as I amincultures' eatingtheir owndead: thepractical,
why-not model of cannibalismeatingthemeat of freshcorpses because
it's thereand it's anicechangefromtaro root. If you'renot goingout and
capturingpeopleand/or goingto thetroubleof fatteningthemup, then
thenutritional economics beginto makemoresense.
I found anAmericanAnthropologist articleareply to Garn'sstating
that thereareinfact instances of groups of humans who will eat not only
enemies they havekilled, but members of their owngroup who have
died of natural causes. Thoughinevery case, theauthor, University of
California, SanDiego, anthropologist Stanley Walens, said, the
cannibalismwas couched inritual. No culture, as far as heknew, simply
carved up dead tribemembers to distributeas meat.
Garnseemed to disagree. "Lots of cultures atetheir dead," hesaid,
thoughI couldn't get any specifics out of him. Headded that many
groupstoo many, hesaid, to specifywould eat infants as ameans of
populationcontrol whenfood was scarce. Did they kill themor werethey
already dead, I wanted to know.
"Well," hereplied, "they weredead by thetimethey atethem." This is
how conversations withStanley Garnseemto go. Somehow, midway
throughour chat, hesteered theconversationfromnutritional
cannibalismto thehistory of landfillapretty sharp turnand thereit
moreor less remained. "Youshould writeabook about that," hesaid, and
I think hemeant it.
I had called Stanley GarnbecauseI was lookingfor ananthropologist
who had doneanutritional analysis of humanfleshand/or organmeats.
Just, youknow, curious. Garnhadn't exactly donethis, but hehad
worked out thelean/fat percentageof humanflesh. Heestimates that
humans havemoreor less thesamebody compositionas veal. To arrive
at thefigure, Garnextrapolated fromaveragehumanbody fat
percentages. "There's informationof that sort onpeopleinmost countries
now," hesaid. "So youcanseewho youwant for dinner." I wondered
how far thebeef/humananalogy carried. Was it trueof humanflesh, as of
beef, that acut withmorefat is considered moreflavorful? Yup, said
Garn. And, as withlivestock, thebetter nourished theindividuals, the
higher theproteincontent. "Thelittlepeopleof theworld," said Garn
and I had to assumehewas referringto themalnourished denizens of the
third world and not dwarfs"arehardly wortheating."
To my knowledgethereis only onegroup of individuals today whose
daily diet may containsignificant amounts of their owndead, and that is
theCaliforniacanine. In1989, whileresearchingastory onaridiculous
and racist law aimed at preventingAsianimmigrants fromeatingtheir
neighbors' dogs (whichwas already illegal becauseit's illegal to steal a
dog), I learned that, owingto CaliforniaCleanAir Act regulations,
humanesocieties had switched fromcrematingeuthanized pets to what
oneofficial called "therenderingsituation." I calledup arenderingplant
to learninto what thedogs werebeingrendered. "Wegrind 'emup and
turn'eminto bonemeal," theplant manager had said. Bonemeal is a
commoningredient infertilizers and animal feedincludingmany
commercial dogfoods.
Of course, no humans aremadeinto fertilizer after they'redead. Or not,
anyway, unless they wishto be.
Footnotes:
[1] As opposed to themouse, horse, rat, goose, hog, sheep, mule, donkey,
or dogvariety. Dogturd was especially popular, particularly dried white
dogturd, fromwhichthepopular RenaissancemedicineAlbumGraecum
was made. TheChineseMateriaMedicaincludes not only dogturd, but the
grains and bones extracted fromit. Theseweretryingtimes for
pharmacists.
[2] If youcould at all help it, it was extremely advisable, historically, to
avoid beingepileptic. Treatments for it haveincluded distilled human
skull, dried humanheart, bolus of humanmummy, boy's urine,
excrement of mouse, goose, and horse, warmgladiator blood, arsenic,
strychnine, cod liver oil, and borax.
[3] WhileI amthankful to bealiveintheeraof antibiotics and over-the-
counter Gyne-Lotrimin, I amsaddened by modernmedicine's
contributions to medical nomenclature. Whereoncewehad scrofulaand
dropsy, now wehavesupraven-tricular tachyarrhythmiaand
glossopharyngeal neuralgia. Gonearequinsy, glanders, and farcy. So
long, exuberant granulations and cerebral softening. Fare-thee-well, tetter
and hecticfever. Eventhetreatments used to haveanevocative, literary
flavor. TheMerckManual of 1899listed "atumblerful of Carlsbad waters,
sipped hot whiledressing" as aremedy for constipationand thelovely, if
enigmatic, "removal inland" as acurefor insomnia.
[4] Youdon't seetheSims positionanymore, but youcanseeDr. Sims,
who lives onas astatueinCentral Park inNew York. If youdon't believe
me, youcanlook it up yourself, onpage56of TheRomanceof Proctology.
(Sims was apparently somethingof adilettantewhenit cameto bodily
orifices.) P.S.: I could not, fromcursory skimming, ascertainwhat the
romancewas.
11
Outof theFire, intotheCompostBin
Andother newwaystoendup
Whenacow dies onavisit to thehospital, it does not go to amorgue. It
goes to awalk-inrefrigerator, suchas theoneat Colorado State
University Veterinary TeachingHospital, inFort Collins. Likemost
things inwalk-inrefrigerators, thebodies herearearranged to maximize
space. Against onewall, sheep arestacked likesandbags against aflood.
Cows hangfromceilinghooks, effectingthefamiliar side-of-beef
silhouette. A horse, bisected mid-torso, lies inhalves onthefloor, a
vaudevillecostumeafter theshow.
Thedeathof afarmanimal is deathreduced to thephysical and the
practical: amatter of wastedisposal and littlemore. Withno soul to be
ushered onward, no mourners to attend to, death's overseers arefreeto
pursuemorepractical approaches. Is thereamoreeconomical way to
disposeof thebody? A moreenvironmentally friendly way? Could
somethinguseful bedonewiththeremains? Withour owndeaths, the
disposal of thebody was for centuries incorporated into theritual of
memorial and farewell. Mourners arepresent at theloweringof thecoffin
and, until morerecently, themeasured, remote-control conveyanceof the
casket into thecremationfurnace. Withthemajority of cremations now
doneout of view of themourners, thememorial has begunto be
separated fromtheprocess of disposal. Does this freeus to explorenew
possibilities?
KevinMcCabe, owner of McCabeFuneral Homes inFarmingtonHills,
Michigan, is onemanwho thinks that theanswer is yes. Oneday soon,
heplans to do to dead peoplewhat Colorado StateUniversity is doingto
dead sheep and horses. Theprocesscalled "tissuedigestion" whenyou
speak to thelivestock peopleand "water reduction" whenyouspeak to
McCabewas invented by aretired pathology professor named Gordon
Kayeand aretired professor of biochemistry named BruceWeber.
McCabeis themortuary consultant for Kayeand Weber's company, WR
2
,
Inc., based inIndianapolis, Indiana.
Themortuaryend of corpsedisposal had beenalow priority over at WR
2
until thespringof 2002, whenRay Brant Marshof Noble, Georgia,
dragged thegood nameof crematory operators everywhereabout as far
throughthemud as anamecould go. At last count, some339
decomposingbodies werefound onland surroundinghis Tri-State
Crematorystacked insheds, dumped inapond, crammed inaconcrete
burial vault. Marshinitially claimed theincinerator wasn't working, but
it was. Thenrumors of decomposingbody photos inhis computer files
madetherounds. It beganto look as thoughMarshwasn't simply cheap
and unethical, but deeply strange. As thebody count grew, GordonKaye
beganto get calls: half adozenfromfuneral directors, and onefroma
New York Stateassemblyman, all wantingto know how soonthe
mortuary tissuedigestor might beavailable, should thepublicbeginto
shuncrematoriums. (At that time, Kayeestimated it would beanother six
months.)
Inafew hours, Kayeand Weber's equipment candissolvethetissues of a
corpseand reduceit to 2or 3percent of its body weight. What remains is
apileof decollagenated bones that canbecrumbled inone's fingers.
Everythingelsehas beenturned into what theWR
2
brochuredescribes as
asterile"coffee-colored" liquid.
Tissuedigestionrelies ontwo key ingredients: water and analkali better
knownas lye. Whenyouput lyeinto water, youcreateapH environment
that frees thehydrogenionof thewater to break apart theproteins and
fats that makeup alivingorganism. That's why "water reduction,"
thoughclearly aeuphemism, is anapt term. "Youareusingwater to
break thechemical bonds inthelargemolecules of thebody," says Kaye.
But Kayedoes not gloss over thelye. This is amanwho has spent eleven
years intheworld of carcass disposal (or "disposition," if youare
speakingwithMcCabe). "Ineffect, it's apressurecooker withDrano,"
says Kayeof his invention. Thelyedoes moreor less what it would do if
youswallowed it. Youdon't digest it, it digests you. What's niceabout an
alkali, as opposed to anacid, is that indoingthedeed, thechemical
renders itself inert and canbesafely flushed downthedrain.
Thereis no questionthat tissuedigestionmakes good sensefor disposing
of dead animals. It destroys pathogens, and, moreimportant, it destroys
prionsincludingtheones that causemad cow diseasewhich
renderingcannot reliably do. It does not pollute, as incinerators do. And
becauseno natural gas is used, theprocess is approximately tentimes
cheaper thanincineration.
What aretheadvantages for humans? If they'rehumans who own
funeral homes, theadvantageis economical. A mortuary digestor will be
relatively inexpensiveto buy (less than$100,000) and, as mentioned, a
tenthas expensiveto run. Digestors makeespecially good senseinrural
areas whosepopulations aretoo small to keep acrematory furnace
continuously active, whichis thebest way for it to be. (Firingit up and
lettingit cool all theway downand refiringit over and over damages the
furnacelining; ideally, youwant to keep thefiregoingnonstop, turningit
downjust low enoughto removetheashes and put thenext body in, but
this presumes asteady lineup of corpses.)
What aretheadvantages for humans who don't ownfuneral homes?
Assumingit's goingto cost afamily moreor less thesameas cremation
would, why would someonechooseto havethis done? I asked McCabe, a
chatty, affableMidwesterner, how heplans to market theprocess to
bereaved families. "Simple," hesaid. "To families who comeinand say, 'I
want himto becremated,' I'mgonnasay, 'No problem. Youcancremate
him, or youcando our water reductionprocess.' And they'regonnasay,
'What's that?' And I'mgonnago, 'Well, it's likecremation, but wedo it
withwater under pressureinstead of fire.' And they'regonnago, 'All
right! Let's do it!' "
And themediais gonnago, "There's lyeinthere. You'reboilingthemin
lye!" I mean, Kevin, I said, aren't youleavingout apretty bigpart of it?
"Oh, yeah, they'regonnaknow all that," hesaid. "I'vetalked to people
and they haveno problem." I'mnot sureI believehimonthesetwo
points, but I do believewhat hesaid next: "Besides, watchingsomebody
cremated is not pretty."
I decided I had to seetheprocessfor myself. I contacted thechairmanof
thestateanatomical board inGainesville, Florida, wherefor thepast five
years digestors havebeentakingcareof anatomy lableftovershere
under thename"reductivecremation," inorder to hopscotchstate
regulations that willed bodies becremated. WhenI got no reply, Kaye
gavemeacontact at Colorado State. And that is how I cameto be
standinginawalk-inrefrigerator full of dead livestock inFort Collins,
Colorado.
Thedigestor sits onaloadingdock, fifteenfeet fromthewalk-in. It is a
round stainless-steel vat similar insizeand circumferenceto aCalifornia
hot tub. Indeed, whenfull, thetwo hold approximately thesamemass of
heated liquid and passivebodies: about seventeenhundred pounds.
Manningthedigestor this afternoonis asoft-voiced wildlifepathologist
named Terry Spracher. Spracher wears rubber boots pulled over his
pants, and latexgloves. Botharestreaked withblood, for hehas been
doingsheep necropsies.[1] Despitewhat his jobduties might suggest, this
is amanwho loves animals. Whenheheard I lived inSanFrancisco, he
brightened and said that heenjoyed visitingthecity, and thereasonhe
enjoyed it was not thehills or theWharf or therestaurants but theMarine
Mammal Center, anobscureecology center up thecoast whereoil-soaked
otters and orphaned elephant seals arerehabbed and released. I guess
this is how it is withanimal careers. If youdeal withanimals for aliving,
yougenerally also deal withtheir deaths.
Aboveour heads, theunit's perforated liner basket hangs fromaceiling-
mounted hydraulichoist onatrack. A taciturn, ginger-haired lab
assistant named WadeClemons pushes abutton, and thebasket travels
across theloadingdock to thedoor of thewalk-in, whereheis standing.
Whenhe's doneloadingthebasket, heand Spracher will guideit back to
theairspaceabovethedigestor and lower it in. "Just likefrenchfries,"
says Spracher quietly.
Hangingfromthehoist insidethewalk-inis alargesteel hook. Clemons
bends downto couplethis to asecond hook, anchored onathick band of
muscleat thebaseof thehorse's neck. Clemons presses abutton. The
half-horserises. Thesight is adisquietingblend of horse-as-we-know-it
placid, dejected horseface; silkenmaneand neck whereyounggirls'
hands wentand slasher-flick gore.
Clemons loads onehalf, thentheother, loweringit downinbesideits
partner, thetwo halves fittingneatly together likenew shoes inabox.
Withtheseasoned expertiseof agrocery bagger, Clemons loads sheep, a
calf, and thenameless slippery contents of two ninety-gallon"gut
buckets" fromthenecropsy lab, until thebasket is full.
Thenhepresses abuttonthat sends thebasket alongtheceilingtrack ona
short, slow trip across theloadingdock to thedigestor. I try to imaginea
cluster of mourners standingby, as they havestood by gravesides as
winches lower coffins, and incremationparlors as coffins onconveyor
belts arepulled slowly into crematory retorts. Of course, for mortuary
digestions, somealterations will bemadeinthenameof dignity. The
mortuary model will useacylindrical basket and will process only one
body at atime. McCabedoesn't seethis as somethingthefamily would
stand around and watch, though"if they wanted to seetheequipment,
they'd bewelcome."
Withthebasket inplace, Spracher closes thedigestor's steel hatchand
presses aseries of buttons onthecomputerized console. Washing-
machinenoises canbeheard as water and chemicals pour into thetank.
I returnfor theraisingof thebasket, thefollowingday. (Theprocess
normally takes sixhours for aload this size, but Colorado Stateneeds to
upgradeits pipes.) Spracher unbolts thehatchand raises thelid. I don't
smell anything, and amemboldened to leanmy head over thevat and
peer inside. Now I smell something. It is alarge, assertivesmell,
unappetizingand unfamiliar. GordonKayerefers to thesmell as
"soaplike," leadingoneto wonder wherehebuys his toiletries. Thebasket
appears largely empty, whichis pretty amazingwhenyouthink about
what it looked likegoingin. Clemons turns onthehoist, and thebasket
rises fromthemachine. At thebottomis afoot andahalf of bonehulls. I
resolveto takeKaye's word for it that youcancrumbletheminyour
fingers.
Clemons opens asmall door near thebaseof thebasket and scrapes the
bones out into aDumpster. Thoughit's no moregrisly thantheemptying
of acrematory retort, it's hard for meto imaginethis catchingonas part
of theAmericanfunerary tradition. But hereagain, thefunerary rendition
wouldn't go quitelikethis. Had this beenamortuary digestion, thebone
remnants would bedried and either pulverized for scatteringor, as
McCabeenvisions, placed ina"bonebox," asort of mini-coffinthat could
bestored inacrypt or buried.
Everythingother thanbonehas liquefied and disappeared downthe
drain. WhenI got back homeI asked McCabehow hewas goingto
handlethepotentially disturbingrealities of thedearly departed's
molecules endingup inthemunicipal sewer system. "Thepublicseems
okay withit," hesaid. Contrastingit withcremation, hesaid, "You're
either goingto go inthesewer or you'regoingto go up inthe
atmosphere. Peoplewho areenvironmentally conscious know that we're
better off puttingsomethingsterileand pH-neutral into thesewer than
wearelettingmercury [fromfillings] go into theair."[2] McCabeis
countingonenvironmental conscienceto sell theprocess. Will it work?
We'll soonsee. McCabeis poised to takedelivery of theworld's first
mortuary tissuedigestor sometimein2003.
Youhaveonly to look at thestory of cremationto appreciatethat
changingtheway Americadisposes of its dead is afeat not easily
accomplished. Thebest way to do this would beto buy acopy of Stephen
Prothero'sPurifiedbyFire: A Historyof CremationinAmerica. Prothero is a
professor of religionat BostonUniversity, amasterful writer, and a
respected historian; his book includes abibliography of morethantwo
hundred original and secondary sources. Thesecond-best way to do it
would beto read thepassagethat follows, whichis basically small
chunks of Prothero's book runthroughthetissuedigestor of my brain.
Ironically, oneof thecremationists' earliest and loudest arguments in
Americawas that cremationwas less pollutingthanburial. Inthemid-
1800s, it was widely (and wrongly) believed that buried, decomposing
bodies gaveoff noxious gases whichpolluted thegroundwater and made
their way up throughthedirt to formdeadly, hoveringgraveyard
"miasmas" that tainted theair and sickened thosewho wandered past.
Cremationwas presented as thepureand hygienicalternativeand might
well havecaught onthen, had thefirst U.S. cremationnot proved to bea
PR disaster.
America's first crematory was built in1874, ontheestateof Francis Julius
LeMoyne, aretired physician, abolitionist, and championof education.
Thoughhis credentials as asocial reformer wereimpressive, his beliefs
about personal hygienemay haveworked against himinhis crusadefor
funereal cleanliness and purity. Accordingto Prothero, hebelieved that
"thehumanbody was never intended by its Creator to comeincontact
withwater," and, as such, traveled about inhis ownpersonal miasma.
LeMoyne's first customer was oneBaronLePalm, who was to be
incinerated inapublicceremony to whichnational and Europeanpress
had beeninvited. LePalm's reasons for requestingcremationremain
murky, but somewhereinthemixwas adeep-seated fear of liveburial,
for heclaimed to havemet awomanwho had beenburied alive
(presumably not very deeply). As things turned out, Mr. LePalmwas
finished somemonths beforethecrematory was, and had to be
preserved. Hefell victimto thespotty and improvisational embalming
techniques of theday, and wasn't lookinghis best whenrowdier
elements of thecrowduninvited townsfolk, mainlypulled thesheet
fromhis earthly remains. Crudejokes weremade. Schoolchildren
snickered. Reporters fromnewspapers across thecountry criticized the
carnival air of theproceedings and thelack of religious ritual and due
solemnity. Cremationwas all but doomed toanearly grave.
Prothero posits that LeMoynehad erred inpresentingamoreor less
secular ceremony. His unsentimental memorial speech, devoid of
references to theHereafter and theAlmighty, and thebare, utilitarian
designof his crematory (reporters likened it to "abakeoven" and "alarge
cigar box") offended thesensibilities of Americans used to Victorian-style
funerals withtheir formal masses and their profusely flowered, ornately
appointed caskets. Americawas not ready for paganfunerals. It would
not beuntil 1963whentheCatholicChurch, inthewakeof thereforms
of VaticanII, relaxed thebanoncremationthat disposal by incineration
would start to takehold inaserious way. (1963was abanner year for
cremation. It was that summer that TheAmericanWayof Death, thelate
JessicaMitford's exposof deceit and greed intheburyingbusiness, came
out.)
What has inspired funeral reformers throughout history, Prothero
maintains, has beenadistastefor pomp and religious pageantry. They
may hand out pamphlets detailingthehorrors and healthrisks of the
grave, but what really bothered themwas thewasteand fakery of the
traditional Christianfuneral: therococo coffins, thehired mourners, the
expense, thewasted land. Freethinkers likeLeMoyneenvisioned apurer,
simpler, back-to-basics approach. Unfortunately, as Prothero points out,
thesemenhavetended to takemortuary utilitarianismtoo far, outraging
thechurches and alienatingthepublic. TaketheAmericandoctor who
put forthaplanto boost thedead's utility by skinningthemprior to
cremationand makingleather. TaketheItalianprofessor who advocated
burningcadavericfat instreetlamps, speculatingthat the250peoplewho
died eachday inNew York would yield 30,600pounds of fuel daily. Take
thecremationist Sir Henry Thompson, who sat downand calculated the
valueinpounds sterlingof the80,000-odd peoplewho died eachyear in
London, should their cremated remains beused as fertilizer. It worked
out to about 50,000, thoughthecustomers, should any haveemerged,
would havebeendealt araw deal, as cremains makelousy fertilizer. If
youwanted to fertilizeyour gardenwithdead people, youwerebetter
off doingit theHay way. Dr. GeorgeHay was aPittsburghchemist who
advocated pulverizingdead bodies so that they wouldto quotean1888
newspaper articleonthetopic"returnto theelements as soonas
possible, if for no other purposethanto furnishafertilizer." Hereis Hay,
quoted at lengthinthearticle, whichis pasted into ascrapbook
belongingto theHistorical Collectionof theMount AuburnCemetery in
Cambridge, Massachusetts:
The machines might be so contrived as to break
the bones first in pieces the size of a hen
egg, next into fragments of the size of a
marble, and the mangled and lacerated mass
could next be reduced by means of chopping
machines and steam power to mincemeat. At this
stage we have a homogeneous mixture of the
entire body structures in the form of a
pulpous mass of raw meat and raw bones. This
mass should now be dried thoroughly by means
of steam heat at a temperature of 250
Fahr.because firstly we wish to reduce the
material to a condition convenient for
handling and secondly we wish to disinfect
it.Once in this condition, it would command a
good price for the purpose of manure.
Whichbrings us, ready or not, to themodernhumancompost movement.
Herewemust travel to Sweden, to atiny island called Lyrn, duewest of
Gothenburg. This is thehomeof aforty-seven-year-old biologist-
entrepreneur named SusanneWiigh-Masak. Two years ago, Wiigh-
Masak founded acompany called Promessa, whichseeks to replace
cremation(thechoiceof 70percent of Swedes) withatechnologically
enhanced formof organiccomposting. This is no mom-and-pop
undertakingof thelunaticGreenfringe. Wiigh-Masak has KingCarl
Gustav and theChurchof Swedenonher side. Shehas crematoriavying
to bethefirst to compost adead Swede. Shehas thedead Swedeready to
go (aterminally ill manwho contacted her after hearingher ontheradio;
hehas sincetakenup residenceinafreezer inStockholm). Shehas major
corporatebacking, aninternational patent, over two hundred press clips.
Mortuary professionals and entrepreneurs fromGermany, Holland,
Israel, Australia, and theUnited States haveexpressed interest in
representingPromessa's technology intheir owncountries.
Sheappears to bedoing, inamatter of years, what took thecremationists
acentury.
This is especially impressivegiventhat what sheis proposinghas its
closest precedent intheideas of Dr. GeorgeHay. Let's say amandies in
Upsala, and that hehas checked theboxonthechurch-distributed living
will that says, "I want that thenew method freeze-dryingecological
funeral will beused if it is availablewhenI die." (Theequipment is still
beingdeveloped; Wiigh-Masak hopes to haveit ready sometimein2003.)
Theman's body will bebrought to anestablishment that has licensed
Promessa's technology. Hewill belowered into avat of liquid nitrogen
and frozen. Fromherehewill progress to thesecond chamber, where
either ultrasound waves or mechanical vibrationwill beused to break his
easily shattered self[3] into small pieces, moreor less thesizeof ground
chuck. Thepieces, still frozen, will thenbefreeze-dried and used as
compost for amemorial treeor shrub, either inachurchyard memorial
park or inthefamily's yard.
ThedifferencebetweenGeorgeHay and SusanneWiigh-Masak is that
Hay, insuggestingthat wefeed crops withthedead, was simply trying
to bepractical, to do somethingbeneficial and useful withadead human
body. Wiigh-Masak is not autilitarian. Sheis anenvironmentalist. And in
parts of Europe, environmentalismis tantamount to its ownreligion. For
this reason, I think, shemay just succeed.
To understand Wiigh-Masak's catechism, it helps to pay avisit to her
compost pile. It lies besidethebarnontheacreand ahalf that sheand
her family rent onLyrn. Wiigh-Masak shows her compost pileto guests
theway anAmericanhomeowner might show off thenew entertainment
center, or theyoungest son's grades. It is her prideand, it is no
exaggerationto say, her joy.
Shepushes ashovel into theheap and raises aloamy clod. It is complex
and full of unnamablefragments, likealasagnabaked by an
unsupervised child. Shepoints out feathers fromaduck that died afew
weeks back, shells fromthemussels that her husband, Peter, farms onthe
other sideof theisland, cabbagefromlast week's coleslaw. Sheexplains
thedifferencebetweenrottingand composting, that theneeds of humans
and theneeds of compost aresimilar: oxygen, water, air temperaturethat
does not stray far from37degrees centigrade. Her point: Weareall
nature, all madeof thesamebasicmaterials, withthesamebasicneeds.
Weareno different, onavery basiclevel, fromtheducks and themussels
and last week's coleslaw. Thus weshould respect Nature, and whenwe
die, weshould giveourselves back to theearth.
As thoughsensingthat sheand I might not beentirely onthesamepage,
perhaps not eveninthesamegeneral vicinity of theDewey decimal
system, Wiigh-Masak asks meif I compost. I explainthat I don't havea
garden. "Ah, okay." Sheconsiders this fact. I get thefeelingthat to Wiigh-
Masak, this is not so muchanexplanationas acriminal confession. I am
feelingmorelikelast week's coleslaw thanusual.
Shereturns to theclod. "Compost should not beugly," sheis saying. "It
should belovely, it should beromantic." Shefeels similarly about dead
bodies. "Deathis apossibility for new life. Thebody becomes something
else. I would likethat that somethingelsebeas positiveas possible."
Peoplehavecriticized her, shesays, for loweringthedead to thelevel of
gardenwaste. Shedoesn't seeit that way. "I say, let's lift gardenwasteto
as highalevel as humanbodies." What's she's tryingto say is that
nothingorganicshould betreated as waste. It should all berecycled.
I amwaitingfor Wiigh-Masak to put downtheshovel, but now it is
comingcloser. "Smell it," sheoffers. I would not go so far as to say that
her compost smells romantic, but it does not smell likerottinggarbage.
Compared to someof thethings I'vebeensmellingthesedays, it's apot
of posies.
SusanneWiigh-Masak will not bethefirst personto compost ahuman
body. That honor goes to anAmericannamed TimEvans. I heard about
Evans whilevisitingtheUniversity of Tennessee's humandecay research
facility (seeChapter 3). As agraduatestudent, Evans had investigated
humancompostingas anoptionfor third-world countries wherethe
majority of thepeoplecan't afford coffins or cremation. InHaiti and parts
of rural China, Evans told me, unclaimed bodies and bodies frompoor
families areoftendumped inopenpits. InChina, thecorpses arethen
burned usinghigh-sulfur coal.
In1998, Evans procured thebody of ane'er-do-well whosefamily had
donated himto theuniversity. "Henever knew hewas goingto end up as
compost guy," recalled Evans, whenI telephoned him. This was probably
just as well. To supply therequisitebacteriato break downthetissue,
Evans composted thebody withmanureand soiled wood shavings from
stables. Thedignity issuerears its delicatehead. (Wiigh-Masak would not
beusingmanure; sheplans to mixa"littledose" of freeze-dried bacteria
inwitheachboxof remains.)
And becausethemanwas buried whole, Evans had to go out witha
shovel and raketo aeratehimthreeor four times. This is why Wiigh-
Masak plans to breakbodies up, witheither vibrationor ultrasound. The
tiny pieces areeasily saturated withoxygenand so quickly composted
and assimilated that they canbeused immediately for aplanting. It was
also, inpart, amatter of dignity and aesthetics. "Thebody has to be
unrecognizablewhileit composts," says Wiigh-Masak. "It has to bein
small pieces. Canyouimaginethefamily sittingaround thedinner table
and someonesays, 'Okay, Sven, it's your turnto go out and turn
Mother'?"
Indeed, Evans had somethingof aroughgo of it, thoughinhis caseit
was morethesettingthanthedeed. "It was hard beingout there," hetold
me. "I used to think, 'What amI doinghere?' I'd just put onmy blinders
and go to my pile."
It took amonthand ahalf for compost guy to completehis returnto the
soil. Evans was pleased withtheresult, whichhedescribed as "really
dark, richstuff, withgood moisture-holdingcapacity." Heoffered to send
measample, whichmight or might not havebeenillegal. (Youneed a
permit to ship anunembalmed cadaver across statelines, but thereis
nothingonthebooks regardingtheshippingof acomposted cadaver. We
decided to leaveit be.) Evans was pleased to notethat ahealthy crop of
weeds had begungrowingout of thetop of thecompost bintoward the
end of theprocess. Hehad beenconcerned about certainfatty acids inthe
body, whichmight, if not thoroughly brokendown, provetoxicto plant
roots.
Intheend, thegovernment of Haiti respectfully declined Evans's
proposal. TheChinesegovernmentinwhat was either aremarkable
show of environmental concernor adesireto savemoney, manurebeing
cheaper thancoaldid express interest inhumancompostingas an
alternativeto open-pit coal burnings. Evans and his adviser, Arpad Vass,
prepared awhitepaper onthepractical advantages of human
composting("material canthenbesafely used inland applications as a
soil amendment or fertilizer") but received no further word. Evans has
plans to work withveterinarians insouthernCaliforniato make
compostingavailableto pet owners. LikeWiigh-Masak, heenvisions
families plantingatreeor shrub, whichwould takeup thedeceased's
molecules and becomealivingmemorial. "This is as close," hesaid to me,
"as scienceis goingto get to reincarnation."
I asked Evans if heplans to try to crack themortuary market. Thereare
two questions there, heanswered. If I was askingwhether hewanted to
makecompostingavailableto people, theanswer was yes. But hedidn't
feel surehewanted to maketheprocess availablethroughfuneral homes.
"Oneof thethings that got meinterested inthis is adisdainfor current
practices of thefuneral industry," hesaid. "Youshouldn't haveto pay
exorbitant amounts of money to die." Ultimately, he'd liketo offer it
throughacompany of his own.
I thenasked how heimagined he'd get theword out, get theball rolling.
Hesaid hehad tried to get acelebrity interested inthecause. Thehope
was that someonelikePaul Newmanor WarrenBeatty might do for
compostingwhat Timothy Leary did for spaceburials. As Evans was
livinginLawrence, Kansas, at thetime, hecalled fellow KansanWilliam
S. Burroughs, who struck himas suitably eccentricand moribund to
consider it. Thecalls werenot returned. Heeventually did try to contact
Paul Newman. "His daughter runs ahorsestabledoingrehabilitationfor
handicapped kids. I thought wecould usethemanure," Evans said.
"They wereprobably thinking, 'What afreak.' " Evans isn't afreak. He's
just afreethinker, onatopicmost peoplewould rather not think about.
Evan's adviser, Arpad Vass, summed it up best. "Compostingis a
wonderful possibility. I just don't think thementality of this country is
thereyet."
Thementality of Swedenis agood deal closer. Thethought of "livingon"
as awillow treeor arhododendronbushmight easily appeal to anation
of gardeners and recyclers. I don't know what percentageof Swedes have
gardens, but plants seemvery important to them. Business lobbies in
Swedenhold tiny forests of potted trees. (Inaroadsiderestaurant in
Jnkping, I saw aficus plant insidearevolvingdoor.) TheSwedes area
practical people, apeoplewho appreciatesimplicity and abhor frou-frou.
Thestationery of theSwedishkingis simply embossed withhis seal; at a
distanceit appears to beaplainsheet of cream-colored paper. Hotel
rooms arefurnished withwhat areasonabletraveler might need and
nothingmore.[4] Thereis onepad of paper, not three, and theend of the
toilet paper is not triangulated. To befreeze-dried and reduced to a
hygienicbagof compost and incorporated into aplant, I suppose, might
appeal to theSwedishethos.
That is not theonly thingthat has madeSwedentheright placeat the
right timefor thehumancompost movement. As it happens, the
crematoriainSwedenhavebeenhit withenvironmental regulations
regardingvolatilized mercury fromfillings, and many need to make
costly upgrades to their equipment withinthenext two years. Purchasing
Wiigh-Masak's machinery would, shesays, cost many of themless than
would complyingwithgovernment regulations. And burial hasn't been
popular herefor decades. Wiigh-Masak explained that part of the
Swedes' distastefor interment canbetraced to thefact that inSweden
youmust shareyour grave. After twenty-fiveyears, agraveis reopened,
and "themeningas masks," as Wiigh-Masak puts it, haul youup, digthe
gravedeeper, and bury someoneelseontop of you.
This is not to say that Promessafaces no resistance. Wiigh-Masak must
convincethepeoplewhosejobs will beaffected should composting
becomeareality: thefuneral directors, thecoffinmakers, theembalmers.
Peoplewhoseapplecarts stand to beupset. Yesterday shegaveatalk at a
conferenceof parishadministrators inJnkping. Thesearethepeople
who would carefor theperson-plants inthechurchyard memorial park.
Whileshespoke, I scanned theaudiencefor smirks and rollingeyes, but
saw none. Most of thecomments seemed positive, thoughit was hard to
tell, as thecomments wereinSwedishand my interpreter had never
actually interpreted before. Heconsulted frequently withapieceof graph
paper, onwhichhehad writtenout alist of mortuary and composting
vocabulary inSwedishand English(formultning"moldering, decay"). At
onepoint, abaldingmaninadark gray suit raised his hand to say that he
thought compostingtook away thespecialness of beinghuman. "Inthis
process, weareequal to someanimal that diesinthewoods," hesaid.
Wiigh-Masak explained that shewas only concerned withthebody, that
thesoul or spirit would beaddressed, as it has always been, ina
memorial serviceor ritual of thefamily's choosing. Hedidn't seemto
hear this. "Do youlookaround this room," hesaid, "and seenothingmore
thanahundred bags of fertilizer?" My interpreter whispered that the
manwas afuneral director. Apparently threeor four of themhad crashed
theconference.
WhenWiigh-Masak finished and thecrowd moved to theback of thehall
for coffeeand pastries, I joined themaninthegray suit and his fellow
undertakers. Across frommesat amanwithwhitehair, named Curt. He
woreasuit too, but his was checkered and hehad anair of jollity that
madeit hard for meto picturehimrunningafuneral home. Hesaid he
thought that theecological funeral would oneday, perhaps intenyears,
becomeareality. "It used to bethat thepriest told thepeoplehow to do
it," hesaid, referringto memorial rites and rituals and thedispositionof
thebody. "Today thepeopletell thepriest." (Accordingto Prothero, this
was also thecasewithcremation. Part of theappeal of scatteringashes
was that it took thelast rites out of thehands of theundertakers and
handed themover to thefamily and friends, freeingthemto do
somethingmorepersonally meaningful thanwhat theundertaker might
havehad inmind.)
Curt added that youngpeopleinSwedenhad recently begunmoving
away fromcremationbecauseof thepollutionit creates. "Now theyoung
cango to Grandmaand say, 'I haveanew way for youacold bath!' "
Thenhelaughed and clapped his hands. I decided that this was thesort
of manI wanted runningmy funeral.
Wiigh-Masak joined us. "Youareavery good salesman," themaninthe
gray suit told her. Heworks for Fonus, Scandinavia's largest mortuary
corporation. Themanlet Wiigh-Masak takeinthecompliment before
steppingonit: "But youhaven't convinced me."
Wiigh-Masak didn't flinch. "I expected to get someresistance," shetold
him. "That's why I'mso surprised and pleased to seethat almost
everyoneintheaudiencelooks happy whileI talk."
"Believeme, they'renot," said themanpleasantly. If I didn't havean
interpreter, I'd think they werediscussingthepastries. "I hear what they
say."
Onthedriveback to Lyrn, themaninthegray suit becameknownas
TheSlime.
"I hopewedon't seehimtomorrow," Wiigh-Masak said to me. At three
o'clock thefollowingafternoon, inStockholm, shewas scheduled to give
apresentationbeforethetop regional managers of Fonus. That shewas
speakingtherewas amatter of somepride. Two years ago, they hadn't
returned her phonecalls. This timeit was they who called her.
SusanneWiigh-Masak does not ownabusiness suit. Shedelivers her
presentations inwhat Americandress codearbiters would term"smart-
casual" trousers and asweater, withher waist-length, wheat-colored hair
braided and pinned up inback. Shewears no makeup for thesetalks,
thoughher facetends to flushmildly, bestowingayouthful blush.
Inthepast, theorganiclook has worked inWiigh-Masak's favor. When
shemet withChurchof Swedenclergy back in1999, they werecomforted
by Wiigh-Masak's noncommercial mien. "They said to me, 'Youarereally
not aseller,' " shetells meas shedresses for thetrip to Fonus's Stockholm
headquarters. Shereally isn't. Whileas 51percent owner of Promessa's
shares Wiigh-Masak stands to earnasubstantial sumshould theprocess
takeoff, wealthis clearly not her motive. Wiigh-Masak has beenahard-
coreecologist sincetheageof seventeen. This is awomanwho takes
trains instead of driving, to makeherself less of aburdenonthe
environment, and who disapproves of holiday-makers flyingto Thailand
whenabeachinSpainwould suffice, onthegrounds that jet fuel is
needlessly burned. Shereadily admits that Promessahas littleto do with
deathand everythingto do withtheenvironment, that it is essentially a
vehiclefor spreadingthegospel of ecology. Thedead bodies attract the
mediaand publicattentioninaway that theenvironmental message
alonecould not. Sheis ararity amongsocial advocates: the
environmentalist who is not preachingto theconverted. Today is agood
example: Tenmortuary company executives areabout to sit throughan
hour-longtalk about theimportanceof givingback to theearththrough
organiccomposting. How oftendoesthat happen?
TheFonus headquarters takes up thebetter part of thethird floor of a
nondescript Stockholmofficebuilding. Theinterior designers havegone
out of their way to infusecolor and natureinto thesurroundings. An
arrangement of caftables is surrounded by asort of indoor hedgeof
potted trees, inthemidst of whichstands animmaculatetropical fish
tank thesizeof aplate-glass window. Deathis nowhereinevidence. A
bowl of complimentary lint brushes bearingtheFonus logo calls out to
mefromthereceptionist's desk.
Wiigh-Masak and I areintroduced to Ulf Helsing, avicedirector of the
corporation. Thenamehits my ears as Elf Helsing, causinggreat internal
merriment. Helsingis dressed likeall theother elves inthelobby, inthe
samegray suit, withthesameroyal-bluedress shirt and thesame
subdued tieand silver Fonus lapel pin. I ask Helsingwhy Fonus
instigated themeeting. As Wiigh-Masak envisions it, it is Sweden's
crematoria, until recently operated by thechurch, that would bedoing
thefreeze-drying. Thefuneral homes would simply maketheoption
knownto their clientsor not, dependingonwhat they decide. "Wehave
beenfollowingthis inthepaper, but wekept alow profile," camehis
enigmaticreply. "It is timeweheard more." Possibly contributingto the
decisionwas thefact that 62percent of threehundred visitors to the
Fonus Websiteanswered, inasurvey, that they would beinterested in
anecological funeral.
"Youknow," Helsingadds as hestirs his coffee, "that freeze-drying
corpses is not anew idea. Someoneinyour country cameup withthis,
about tenyears ago." Heis talkingabout aretired scienceteacher from
Eugene, Oregon, named Phillip Backman. Wiigh-Masak told meabout
him. Backman, likeTimEvans and thecremationists of yore, was
inspired by aloathingof funerary pomp. Hespent several years at
ArlingtonNational Cemeteryarrangingmilitary funerals that, muchof
thetime, no oneshowed up for. This, combined withabackground in
chemistry, got himinterested inthepossibilities of freeze-dryingas
another alternativeto burial. Heknew that liquid nitrogen, awaste
product of certainindustrial processes, is cheaper thannatural gas.
(Wiigh-Masak estimates theliquid nitrogencost per body at $30; thegas
for acremationcosts about $100.) To break downthefrozenbodiesfor
freeze-dryingawholehumanbody would takeover ayearinto tiny,
quickly freeze-dryablepieces, heproposed runningthemthrougha
machine. "It's somethingontheorder of what they do withchipped beef,"
hetold mewhenwespoke. ("It was ahammer mill," Wiigh-Masak later
told me.) Backmanmanaged tosecureapatent for theprocess, but the
concept was coolly received at local mortuaries. "No onewanted to talk
about it, so I just let it go"
Themeetingbegins ontime. Tenregional directors for thecompany,
alongwiththeir laptops and their politegazes, gather intheconference
room. Wiigh-Masak begins by talkingabout thedifferencebetween
organicand inorganicremains, how cremains containlittlenutritive
value. "Whenweareburningremains, wedon't giveit back to theearth.
Wearebuilt up fromnature, and wehaveto giveit back." Theaudience
seems respectfully quiet and attentive, except for my interpreter and me,
whisperingintheback row likepoorly brought up schoolgirls. I notice
Helsingwriting. At first heappears to betakingnotes, but thenhefolds
thesheet intwo, and, whenWiigh-Masak's back is turned, slides it across
thetable, whereit is passed alongto its recipient, who slips it under his
notebook until Wiigh-Masak turns away again.
They let Wiigh-Masak talk for twenty minutes beforethey beginasking
questions. Helsingleads thepack. "I haveanethical question," hesays.
"Anelk dyinginthewoods and returningto theearthis just lyingonthe
ground. Hereyouaredoingsomethingto break it up." Wiigh-Masak
replies that infact, anelk that dies inthewoods is likely to betornup
and eatenby scavengers. And whileit is truethat thedungof whoever
eats theelk would act as asort of elk compost and, ineffect, achievethe
desired goal, it was not somethingshecould envisionfamilies being
comfortablewith.
Helsingpinkens slightly. This was not whereheintended things to go,
conversationally. Hepersists: "But canyouseetheethical problemof
breakingit up this way?" Wiigh-Masak has heard this lineof argument
before. A technicianat aDanishultrasound company, whomshe
contacted early onintheproject, declined to work withher for this
reason. Hefelt that representingultrasound as anonviolent way of
breakingup tissuewas dishonest. Wiigh-Masak was undeterred. "Listen,"
shesaid to themorticians. "Weall know that takingabody downto
powder requires somekind of energy. But ultrasound, at least, has a
positiveimage. Youcannot seetheviolence. I would likeit to bepossible
for thefamily to watchit happening, behind aglass wall. I want
somethingwhereI canshow achild, and thechild won't start crying."
Glances areexchanged. A manclicks his pen.
Wiigh-Masak makes asmall detour into defensivemode. "I think that if
youput acamerainsideacoffinwewouldn't bevery impressed with
ourselves. It is aterribleresult."
Someoneasks why thefreeze-dryingstep is needed. Wiigh-Masak
answers that if youdon't removethewater, thelittlepieces will start to
decomposeand smell beforeyoucanget theminto theground. But you
mustn't get rid of thewater, themancounters, becausethis is 70percent
of this person. Wiigh-Masak tries to explainthat thewater insideeach
oneof us changes day by day. It's borrowed. It comes in, it goes out, the
molecules fromyour water mixwithsomeoneelse's. Shepoints to the
man's coffeecup. "Thecoffeeyouaredrinkinghas beenyour neighbor's
urine." Youhaveto admireawomanwho cantoss theword "urine" into a
corporatepresentation.
Themanwho has beenclickinghis penis thefirst to raisethesubject that
is surely oneveryone's mind: coffins, and thedisappearingprofit
therefromthat anecological funeral movement will mean. Wiigh-Masak
envisions thefreeze-dried, powdered remains beingplaced ina
miniature, biodegradablecornstarchcoffin. "That's aproblem,"
acknowledges Wiigh-Masak. "Everyonewill beangry at me." Shesmiles.
"I guess therewill haveto beanew thinking." (As withcremation, a
standard coffincould berented for amemorial service.)
Cremationists faced thesameobjections. For years, accordingto Stephen
Prothero, undertakers wereadvised to tell their clients that scattering
was against thelaw, wheninfact, withfew exceptions, it wasn't. Families
werepushed to buy memorial urns and niches incolumbariaand even
standard cemetery plots inwhichto bury theurns. But thefamilies
persisted intheir pushfor asimple, meaningful ceremony of their own
making, and scatteringcaught on. As did theuseof rental caskets for pre-
cremationservices and themanufacturingof inexpensivecardboard
"cremationcontainers" for theactual burning. "Theonly reasonthereare
rental caskets," KevinMcCabeoncetold me, "is that thepublicdemanded
it." Thetremendous attentionthat Promessahas received sinceits
foundinghas forced thefuneral industry to deal withthepossibility that
very soonpeoplemay becomingto themrequestingto becomposted. (In
aSwedishnewspaper poll takenlast year, 40percent of respondents said
they'd liketo befreeze-dried and used to grow aplant.) Mortuaries in
Swedenmay not beactively recommendingtheecological funeral any
timesoon, but they may stop short of tryingto derail it. As afriendly
youngFonus regional director named Peter Granssonsaid to meearlier,
"It's pretty hard to stop somethingonceit's rolling."
Thelast questioncomes fromamanseated next to Ulf Helsing. Heasks
Wiigh-Masak whether sheplans to first market thetechniquefor dead
animals. Sheis adamant about not lettingthis happen. If Promessa
becomes knownas acompany that disposes of dead cows or pets, she
tells theman, it will losethedignity necessary for ahumanapplication. It
is difficult, as it is, to attachtherequisitedignity to humancomposting.
At least intheUnited States. Not longago, I called theU.S. Conferenceof
CatholicBishops, theofficial U.S. mouthpieceof theCatholicChurch, to
ask its opiniononfreeze-dryingand compostingas analternativeto
burial. I was put throughto aMonsignor JohnStrynkowski inthe
Doctrineoffice. Whilethemonsignor allowed that compostingand
nourishingtheearthwas littledifferent fromaTrappist monk's plain
shroud burial or achurch-sanctioned burial at sea, followingwhichthe
body will, as heput it, providenourishment for fish, theideaof
compostingstruck himas disrespectful. I asked himwhy. "Well, whenI
was akid," heanswered, "wehad aholewhereweput peelings from
apples and such, and used it for fertilizer. That's just my association."
WhileI had himonthephone, I asked Monsignor Strynkowski about
tissuedigestion. Hereplied withminimal hesitationthat thechurch
would beopposed to "theideaof humanremains goinginto thedrain."
Heexplained that theCatholicChurchfeels that thehumanbody should
always begivenadignified burial, whether it's thebody itself or the
ashes. (Scatteringremains asin.) WhenI explained that thecompany
planned to add anoptional dehydrator to thesystemthat could reduce
theliquefied remains to apowder that could thenbeburied, just as
cremains canbe, thelinewent quiet. Finally hesaid, "I guess that would
beokay." Yougot thefeelingMonsignor Strynkowski was looking
forward to theend of thephonecall.
Thelinebetweensolid wastedisposal and funerary rituals must bewell
maintained. Interestingly, this is oneof thereasons theEnvironmental
ProtectionAgency doesn't regulateU.S. crematoria. For if it did regulate
them, therules would bepromulgated under Section129of theCleanAir
Act, whichcovers "Solid WasteIncinerators." And that would mean,
explained Fred Porter, of theEPA EmissionStandards Divisionin
Washington, "that what we'reincineratingat crematoriais 'solid waste.'"
TheEPA does not wishto stand accused of callingAmerica's dead loved
ones "solid waste."
Wiigh-Masak may succeed intakingcompostingmainstreambecauseshe
realizes theimportanceof keepingrespectful dispositiondistinct from
wastedisposal, of addressingthefamily's need for adignified end. To a
certainextent, of course, dignity is inthepackaging. Whenyouget right
downto it, thereis no dignified way to go, beit decomposition,
incineration, dissection, tissuedigestion, or composting. They'reall,
bottomline, alittledisagreeable. It takes thecareful applicationof awell-
considered euphemismburial, cremation, anatomical gift-giving, water
reduction, ecological funeralto bringit to thepoint of acceptance. I
used to think thetraditional navy burial at seasounded nice; I pictured
thesunontheocean, theinfiniteexpanseof blue, thenowhereness of it.
Thenoneday I had aconversationwithPhillip Backman, duringwhich
hementioned that oneof thecleanest, quickest, and most ecologically
purethingsto do withabody would beto put it inabigtide-pool full of
Dungeness crabs, whichapparently enjoy eatingpeopleas muchas
peopleenjoy eatingcrabs. "It'll do thethinginacoupleof days," hesaid.
"It's all recycled, and it's all cleanand takencareof." My affinity for burial
at seanot to mentioncrabmeatwas suddenly, dramatically
diminished.
Wiigh-Masak finishes speaking, and thegroup applauds. If they think of
her as theenemy, they do agood jobof concealingit. Ontheway out, a
photographer asks us to posewithHelsingand acoupleof theother
executives for thecompany Webpage. Westand withonefoot and
shoulder forward, arranged infacingcolumns, likedoo-wop backup
singers inunusually drabcostumes. WhileI avail myself of aFonus lint
brush, I hear Helsingsay that thecompany plans to add alink to
Promessaonits Website. A wary friendship has beenforged.
Ontheroad betweenJnkpingand Wiigh-Masak's homeonLyrnis a
graveyard onahill. If youdriveall theway throughto theback of this
graveyard, youcometo asmall field wherethechurchwill oneday dig
moregraves. Halfway up theunmownterrain, asmall rhododendron
bushstands amongtheweeds. This is thePromessatest grave. Last
December, Wiigh-Masak concocted theapproximateequivalent of a150-
pound humancadaver, usingfreeze-dried cow blood and freeze-dried,
pulverized bones and meat. Sheplaced thepowder inacorn-starchbox,
and theboxinashallow (thirty-fivecentimeters down, so thecompost
could still get oxygen) grave. InJune, shewill returnto digit up and
makesurethecontainer has disintegrated and thecontents havebegun
their metaphysical journey.
Wiigh-Masak and I stand insilencebesidethegraveof theunknown
livestock, as thoughpayingour respects. It's dark now and hard to see
theplant, thoughit appears to bedoingwell. I tell Wiigh-Masak that I
think it's great, this quest for anecologically sound, meaningful
memorial. I tell her I'mrootingfor her, thenquickly rephrasethe
sentiment, omittinggardening-related verbs.
And I am. I hopeWiigh-Masak succeeds, and I hopeWR
2
succeeds. I'm
all for choices, indeathas inlife. Wiigh-Masak is encouraged by my
support, as shehas beenby thesupport of theChurchof Swedenand her
corporatebackers and thepeoplewho haveresponded positively inthe
polls. "It was and is," sheconfides as thewind shimmies theleaves onthe
cow's memorial shrub, "very important to feel I'mnot crazy."
Footnotes:
[1] Hedoes not usetheword "autopsy," for theprefixdenotes a
postmortemmedical inspectionof one's ownspecies. Technically
speaking, only ahuman's investigationof another human's deathcanbe
called anautopsyor, supposingavery different world, asheep's
investigationof another sheep's.
[2] Inthegrand schemeof industrial air pollution, crematoriarank low
onthefret list. They emit about half as muchparticulatematter as a
residential fireplaceand about as muchnitrousoxideas thetypical
restaurant grill. (This is not surprising, as thehumanbody is mostly
water.) Of greatest concernis mercury fromdental fillings, which
vaporizes and drifts into theatmosphereat arateof .23grams per hour of
operation(about ahalf gramper cremation), accordingto researchdone
jointly by theEPA and theCremationAssociationof NorthAmerica. An
independent study doneinEngland in1990and published inthejournal
Natureestimated theaverageamount of mercury released into the
atmosphereat threegrams per cremationanotably higher and, the
author believed, worrisometotal. All inall, compared to power plants
and incinerated trash, thedental work of thedead generates asmall
fractionof theplanet's airbornemercury.
[3] Frozenhumans shatter easily becausethey aremostly water. How
muchwater is amatter of somedebate. A Googlesearchunearthed sixty-
four Websites withthewords "body is 70percent water," 27sites that say
it's 60percent water, 43that tell youit is either 80or 85percent water, 12
that say thefigureis 90percent, 3that say it's 98percent, and onethat
says it's 91percent. A better consensus exists for jellyfish. They areeither
98or 99percent water, and that iswhy younever seedried jellyfish
snacks.
Todd Astorino, director of theExerciseScienceProgramat Salisbury
University, inSalisbury, Maryland, was ableto answer thequestionnot
only withcertainty, but to adecimal point: Weare73.8percent water.
Thefigure, hesaid, is calculated by givingavolunteer ameasured
quantity of water laced withtracers to drink. Four hours later, the
subject's blood is sampled and thedilutionof thetracers is noted. From
this, you, or Todd anyway, canfigureout how muchwater is inthebody.
(Themorewater inthebody, themorediluted thetracers intheblood.)
Comparethewater weight to body weight, and there's theanswer. Isn't
scienceterrific?
[4] Andsometimes less. My business-graderoomat Gothenburg's
Landvetter Airport Hotel ("For FlyingPeople") had no clock, the
assumptionbeing, I suppose, that abusinessmancansimply consult his
watch. TheTV remotehad no mutebutton. I pictured Swedishremote
designers arguingquietly intheir cleanly appointed conferenceroom.
"But Ingmar, why do youneed aspecial buttonwhenyoucanjust put
downthevolume?"
12
Remainsof theAuthor
Will sheor won'tshe?
It has longbeenatraditionamonganatomy professors to donatetheir
bodies to medical science. HughPatterson, theUCSF professor whoselab
I visited, looks at it this way: "I'veenjoyed teachinganatomy, and look, I
get to do it after I die." Hetold mehefelt likehewas cheatingdeath.
Accordingto Patterson, thevenerableanatomy teachers of Renaissance
Paduaand Bologna, as deathsidled near, would choosetheir best student
and ask himto preparetheir skull as ananatomical exhibit. (Should you
oneday visit Padua, youcanseesomeof theseskulls, at theuniversity
medical school.)
I don't teachanatomy, but I understand theimpulse. Somemonths back,
I gavethought to becomingaskeletoninamedical school classroom.
Years ago I read aRay Bradbury story about amanwho becomes
obsessed withhis skeleton. Hehas cometo think of it as asentient,
sinister entity that lives insidehim, bidingits timeuntil hedies and the
bones slowly prevail. I beganthinkingabout my skeleton, this solid,
beautiful thinginsidemethat I would never see. I didn't seeit becoming
my usurper, but moremy stand-in, my means to earthly immortality. I've
enjoyedhangingaroundinroomsdoingnothingmuch, andlook, I get todoit
after I die. Plus, ontheoff chancethat anafterlifeexists, and that it
includes theoptionof homeplanet visitations, I'd beableto pop by the
med school and finally seewhat my bones looked like. I liked theidea
that whenI was gone, my skeletonwould liveoninsomesunny,
boisterousanatomy classroom. I wanted to beamystery insomefuture
medical student's head: Who was this woman? What did shedo? How
did shecometo behere?
Of course, themystery could as easily beengendered by amoreroutine
donationof my remains. Upward of 80percent of thebodies left to
scienceareused for anatomy labdissections. Most assuredly, alab
cadaver occupies thethoughts and dreams of its dissectors. Theproblem,
for me, is that whileaskeletonis ageless and aesthetically pleasing, an
eighty-year-old corpseis withered and dead. Thethought of young
peoplegazinginhorror and repulsionat my saggingfleshand atrophied
limbs does not hold strongappeal. I'mforty-three, and already they're
doingit. A skeletonseemed theless humiliatingcourse.
I actually went so far as to contact afacility at theUniversity of New
Mexico's Maxwell Museumof Anthropology that accepts bodies
specifically to harvest thebones. I told thewomanwho runs it about my
book and said that I wanted to comeseehow skeletons aremade. Inthe
Bradbury story, theprotagonist ends up havinghis bones pulled out
throughhis mouth, by analiendisguised as abeautiful woman. Though
hewas reduced to ajellyfishheap onhis living-roomfloor, his body
remained intact. No bloodwas spilled.
This was, of course, not thecaseat theMaxwell lab. I was told I would
havethechoiceof observingoneof two steps: a"cut-down" or a"pour-
off." Thecut-downwas moreor less what it sounded like. They got the
bones out theonly waybarringretractableand highly specialized alien
mouthpartsonecan: by cuttingaway thefleshand musclethat
surrounds them. Residual meat and sinew is dissolved by boilingthe
bones inasolutionfor afew weeks, periodically pouringoff thebroth
and replacingthesolution. I pictured theyoungmenof Paduatendingto
their beloved professors' heads as they simmered and bobbed. I pictured
theactors inaShakespeareantheater troupeI read about last year,
confronted by adead cast member's last request that his skull beused as
Yorick. Peoplereally need to think theserequests through.
About amonthlater, I got another e-mail fromtheuniversity. They were
writingto tell methey had switched to aninsect-based process, wherein
fly larvaeand carnivorousbeetles performtheir ownscaled-down,
drawn-out versionof thecut-down.
I did not signonto becomeaskeleton. For onething, I don't liveinNew
Mexico and they won't comepick youup. Also, it turns out that the
university doesn't makeskeletons, only bones. Thebones areleft
unarticulated and added to theuniversity's osteological collection.[1]
No oneinthis country, I learned, is makingskeletons for medical schools.
Thevast majority of theworld's medical school skeletons have, over the
years, beenimported fromCalcutta. No longer. Accordingto aJune
15,1986, ChicagoTribunestory, Indiabanned theexport of bones in1985,
after reports surfaced of childrenbeingkidnapped and murdered for
their bones and skulls. Accordingto onestory, whichI desperately hope
is exaggerated, fifteenhundred childrenper monthwerebeingkilled in
thestateof Bihar, their bones thensent to Calcuttafor processingand
export. Sincetheban, thesupply of humanbones has dwindled toalmost
nothing. Somecomeout of Asia, where, it is rumored, they aredugup
fromChinesecemeteries and stolenfromCambodia's killingfields. They
areold, mossy, and generally of poor quality, and for themost part,
detailed plasticskeletons havetakentheir place. So muchfor my future
as askeleton.
For similarly dumband narcissisticreasons, I also onceconsidered
spendingeternity at theHarvard BrainBank. I wroteabout it inmy
Salon.comcolumn, whichwas disappointingfor theBrainBank's
director, who assumed I would bewritingaserious articleabout the
facility's serious and very worthwhileresearchpursuits. Hereis an
abridged versionof thecolumn:
There are many good reasons to become a brain donor.
One of the best is to advance the study of mental
dysfunction. Researchers cannot study animal brains
to learn about mental illness because animals don't
get mentally ill. While some animalscats, for
example, and dogs small enough to fit into bicycle
basketsseem to incorporate mental illness as a
natural personality feature, animals are not known to
have diagnosable brain disorders like Alzheimer's and
schizophrenia. So researchers need to study brains of
mentally ill humans and, as controls, brains of
normal humans like you and me (okay, you).
My reasons for becoming a donor aren't very good at
all. My reasons boil down to a Harvard Brain Bank
donor wallet card, which enables me to say "I'm going
to Harvard" and not be lying. You do not need brains
to go to the Harvard Brain Bank, only a brain.
One fine fall day, I decided to visit my final
resting place. The Brain Bank is part of Harvard's
McClean Hospital, which sits on a rolling estate of
handsome brick buildings just outside Boston. I was
directed to the third floor of the Mailman Research
Building. The woman pronounced it "Melmon," so as to
avoid having to answer stupid questions about what
kind of research is being done on mailmen.
If you are considering becoming a brain donor, the
best thing for you to do is stay away from the Brain
Bank. Within ten minutes of arriving, I was watching
a twenty-four-year-old technician slice a sixty-
seven-year-old brain. The brain had been flash-frozen
and did not slice cleanly. It sliced as does a
Butterfinger, with little shards crumbling off. The
shards quickly thawed and looked less
Butterfingerlike. The technician wiped them up with a
paper towel. "There goes third grade." He has gotten
in trouble for saying things like this. I read a
newspaper story in which the reporter asked him if he
planned to donate his brain and he replied, "No way!
I'm going out with whatever I came in with!" Now when
you ask him, he says quietly, "I'm only twenty-four,
I really don't know."
A Brain Bank spokesman showed me around. Down the
hall from the dissection room was the computer room.
The spokesman referred to this as "the brains of the
operation," which in any other operation would have
been fine, but in this case was a tad confusing. At
the end of the hall were the real brains. It wasn't
quite what I imagined. I had pictured whole intact
brains floating in glass jars. But the brains are cut
in half, one side being sliced and frozen, the other
side sliced and stored in formaldehyde inside
Rubbermaid and Freezette food savers. Somehow, I'd
expected more of Harvard. If not glass, at least
Tupperware. I wondered what the dorms look like these
days.
The spokesman assured me that no one would even be
able to tell that my brain was missing. He assured me
in a way that assured me and at the same time didn't
bring me a lot closer to being a committed brain
donor. "First," he began, "they cut the skin like
this and pull it up over the face." Here he made a
motion as though taking off a Halloween mask. "They
use a saw to cut the top of the skull off, the brain
is removed, and the skull is put back and screwed in
place. Put the skin flap back, and comb the hair back
over." He used the peppy how-to language of an
infomercial host, making brain harvesting sound like
something that takes just minutes and wipes clean
with a damp cloth.
Yet again, I backed off frommy plan. Not so muchbecauseof the
harvestingprocessas youmay havegleaned, I'mnot asqueamish
individualbut becauseof my mistakenexpectations. I wanted to bea
braininajar, at Harvard. I wanted to look atmosphericand fascinating
onashelf. I didn't want to spend thehereafter as cut-up pieces ina
storeroomrefrigerator.
Thereis but oneway to beanorganonashelf, and that is to be
plastinated. Plastinationis theprocess of takingorganictissuea
rosebud, say, or ahumanheadand replacingthewater init witha
liquid siliconepolymer, turningtheorganisminto apermanently
preserved versionof itself. Plastinationwas developed by German
anatomist Gunther vonHagens. Likemost plastinators, vonHagens
makeseducational models for anatomy programs. Heis best known,
however, for his controversial plastinated whole-body art exhibit,
"Krperwelten"or, inEngland, "Bodyworlds"whichhas toured
Europefor thepast fiveyears, raisingeyebrows and tidy sums of cash
(attendanceto dateis over eight million). Theskinless bodies areposed
as livingpeopleinaction: swimming, riding(plastinated horseincluded),
playingchess. Onefigure's skinflies out behind it likeacape. Von
Hagens cites as inspirationtheworks of Renaissanceanatomists suchas
Andreas Vesalius, whoseDeHumani CorporisFabricafeatured bodies
drawninactivehumanposes, rather thanlyingflat or standingarms to
theside, lathetypical medical illustration. A skeletonwaves hello; a
"muscleman" gazes at theview fromahilltop of thetownbelow.
"Krperwelten" raises theireof churchfathers and conservatives
wherever it opens, mainly onthegrounds of violated dignity. Von
Hagens counters that thebodies intheshow weredonated by their
owners specifically for this purpose. (Heleaves astack of donor forms at
theexit of theexhibit. Accordingto a2001LondonObserver article, the
donor list is up to 3,700.)
Most of vonHagens's bodies areplastinated inChina, inanoperation
called PlastinationCity. Heis said to employ two hundred Chinesein
what sounds to melikeasort of cadaver sweat shop. This is not all that
surprising, as his techniqueis extremely labor-intensiveand time-
consumingit takes over ayear to plastinateoneindividual. (TheU.S.
versionof thetechnique, modified by Dow Corningafter vonHagens's
patent expired, takes onetenththetime.) I contacted vonHagens's office
inGermany to seeif I could visit PlastinationCity and seewhat kind of
shenanigans areinstorefor adonor body, but vonHagens was onthe
road and did not returnmy e-mails intime.
Instead of China, I traveled to theUniversity of MichiganMedical School,
whereanatomy professor Roy Glover and plastinationchemicals
manufacturer DanCorcoran, who worked withDow Corningto update
thetechnique, havebeenplastinatingwholedead bodies for amuseum
project of their own, called "Exhibit Human: TheWonders Within"
slated to openinSanFrancisco inmid-2003. Theirs is strictly educational:
twelveplastinated (Corcoranprefers theterm"polymer-preserved")
bodies, eachdisplayingadifferent systemnervous, digestive,
reproductive, etc. (At press date, no U.S. museumhad signed up to
exhibit "Krperwelten.")
Glover offered to show mehow plastinationworks. Wemet inhis office.
Glover has alongfacethat mademethink of Leo G. Carroll. (I had
recently seenTarantula, whereinCarroll plays ascientist who figures out
how to makehuge, scary versions of harmless animals, e.g. "Guineapigs
thesizeof policedogs!") Youcould tell Glover was aniceguy becausea
To Do list onawhiteboard onhis officewall said: "MariaLopez, brain
for daughtersciencefair." I decided that this was what I wanted to do
withmy remains. Travel around to classroomsand sciencefairs,
astoundingchildrenand inspiringcareers inscience. Glover took me
across thehall, to astoreroomwithawall of shelves crowded with
plastinated humanpieces and parts. Therewas abrainsliced likealoaf of
bread and ahead split intwo so that youcould seethelabyrinths of the
sinuses and thedeep, secret sourceof thetongue. Youcould pick the
organs up and marvel at them, for they werecompletely dry and had no
smell. Yet still, they wereclearly real and not plastic. For themany
disciplines (dentistry, nursing, speechpathology) that study anatomy but
haveno timefor dissection, models liketheseareagodsend.
Glover took medownthehall to theplastinationlab, whichwas chilly
and cluttered withheavy, strange-lookingtanks. Hebeganexplainingthe
process. "First thebody is washed." This is donemuchas it was whenthe
body was alive: inatub. "This is abody," said Glover, quite
unnecessarily, regardingafigureonits back inthetub.
Themanhad beeninhis sixties. Hehad amustacheand atattoo, bothof
whichwould survivetheplastinationprocess. Thehead was submerged,
givingthecorpseadisconcertingmurder-victimsort of look. Also, the
front chest wall had beenseparated fromtherest of thetorso and lay off
to thesideof thebody. It looked likeaRomangladiator's chest plate, or
maybeI just found it helpful to think of it that way. Glover said that he
and Corcoranplanned to reattachit withahingeononeside, so that it
would swingopen"likearefrigerator door" to reveal theorgans within.
(Months later, I saw photos of theexhibit pieces. Disappointingly,
someonemust havenixed therefrigerator door idea.)
Thesecond body lay inastainless-steel tank of acetone, whichfilled the
labwithapowerful smell of nail polishremover eachtimeDr. Glover
lifted thelid. Theacetonedrives water fromthebody's tissue, readyingit
for impregnationwiththesiliconepolymer. I tried to picturethis dead
manpropped onastand inasciencemuseum. "Will hebewearing
anything, or will his penis just behangingout?" I asked tactlessly.
"He's goingto haveit hangingout," replied Glover. I got thefeelinghe'd
beenasked this questionbefore. "I mean, this is aperfectly normal part of
aperson's anatomy. Why should weattempt to hidewhat's normal?"
Fromtheacetonebath, thecadavers aretransferred to thewhole-body
plastinationchamber, acylindrical stainless-steel tank filled withliquid
polymer. A vacuumattached to thetank lowers theinternal pressure,
turningtheacetoneto agas and drawingit fromthebody. "Whenthe
acetonecomes out of thespecimen, it creates space, and into that spaceis
pulled thepolymer," said Glover. Hehanded meaflashlight so I could
seetheview throughaportholeonthetop of thechamber, which
happened to look downonto aperfectly normal part of aperson's
anatomy.
It looked peaceful inthere. Likeaguineapigthesizeof apolicedog, the
concept of beingplastinated is moreunsettlingthanthereality. Youjust
liethere, soakingand plastinating. Eventually, someonelifts youout and
poses you, muchas oneposes aGumby. A catalyst is thenrubbed into
your skin, and atwo-day hardeningprocess begins, workingits way
throughyour tissues, preservingyoufor all eternity inyour freshly dead
state. I asked DeanMueller, asoutheasternMichiganfuneral director
whosecompany, Eternal Preservation, offers mortuary plastinationfor
about $50,000, how longhethought aplastinated specimenwould last.
Hesaid at least tenthousand years, whichis about as eternal as anyone
intheir right, or eventheir wrong, mind could careabout. Mueller has
highhopes that theprocess will catchonamongheads of state(think
what plastinationcould havedonefor Lenin) and richeccentrics, and I
imaginethat it might.
I would happily donatemy organs as teachingtools, but unless I moveto
Michiganor someother statewithaplastinationlab, I can't. I could ask
my loved ones to ship meto Michigan, but that would besilly. Besides,
youcan't specify what happens to youwhenyoudonateyour remains to
science, only what doesn't happen. Thedead peoplewhoseparts Glover
and Corcoranhaveplastinated over theyears checked aboxontheir
University of Michigandonor formindicatingthat they did not object to
"permanent preservation," but they didn't request it specifically.
Here's theother thingI think about. It makes littlesenseto try to control
what happens to your remains whenyouareno longer around to reap
thejoys or benefits of that control. Peoplewho makeelaboraterequests
concerningdispositionof their bodies areprobably peoplewho have
troublewiththeconcept of not existing. Leavinganoterequestingthat
your family and friends travel to theGanges or shipyour body to a
plastinationlabinMichiganis away of exertinginfluenceafter you're
goneof still beingthere, inasense. I imagineit is asymptomof thefear,
thedread, of beinggone, of therefusal to accept that youno longer
control, or evenparticipatein, anythingthat happens onearth. I spoke
about this withfuneral director KevinMcCabe, who believes that
decisions concerningthedispositionof abody should bemadeby the
survivors, not thedead. "It's noneof their business what happens to them
whenthey die," hesaid to me. WhileI wouldn't go that far, I do
understand what hewas gettingat: that thesurvivors shouldn't haveto
do somethingthey'reuncomfortablewithor ethically opposed to.
Mourningand movingonarehard enough. Why add to theburden? If
someonewants to arrangeaballoonlaunchof thedeceased's ashes into
inner space, that's fine. But if it is burdensomeor troublingfor any
reason, thenperhaps they shouldn't haveto. McCabe's policy is to honor
thewishes of thefamily over thewishes of thedead. Willed body
programcoordinators feel similarly. "I'vehad kids object to their dad's
wishes [to donate]," says RonnWade, director of theAnatomical Services
Divisionof theUniversity of Maryland School of Medicine. "I tell them,
'Do what's best for you. You'retheonewho has to livewithit.'"
I saw this happenbetweenmy father and mother. My father, who
rejected organized religionearly inhis life, asked my mother to havehim
cremated inaplainpineboxand to hold no memorial service. My
mother, against her Catholicinclinations, honored his wishes. Shelater
regretted it. Peopleshebarely knew confronted her about their
disappointment over therehavingbeenno memorial service. (My father
had beenabeloved character around town.) My mother felt shamed and
slandered. Theurnwas afurther sourceof discomfort, partly becausethe
CatholicChurchinsists onburial of remains, evencremated ones, and
partly becauseshedidn't likehavingit around thehouse. Pop sat ina
closet for ayear or two until oneday, withno word to my brother or me,
shebrought himdownto theRand Funeral Home, pushed asideher
guilt, and had theurnburied inacemetery plot besidetheoneshe'd
reserved for herself. Initially, I had sided withmy father and was
indignant over her disrespect of his stated request. WhenI realized how
distressinghis last wishes had beenfor her, I changed my mind.
If I donated my body to science, my husband, Ed, would haveto picture
meonalabtableand, worse, pictureall thethings that might bedoneto
methere. Many peoplewould befinewiththis. But Ed is squeamish
about bodies, livingor dead. This is amanwho refuses to wear contacts
becausehe'd haveto touchhis eyes. I haveto limit my visits tothe
Surgery Channel for evenings whenhe's out of town. WhenI told himI
was thinkingabout joiningtheHarvard BrainBank acoupleyears back,
hestarted shakinghis head: "Ix-nay ontheainbank-bray."
Whatever Ed wants to do withmeis what will bedonewithme. (The
exceptionbeingorgandonation. If I wind up brain-dead withusable
parts, someone's goingto usethem, squeamishness bedamned.) If Ed
goes first, only thendo I fill out thewilled body form.
And if do, I will includeabiographical noteinmy filefor thestudents
who dissect me(youcando this), so they canlook downat my
dilapidated hull and say, "Hey, check this. I got that womanwho wrotea
book about cadavers." And if there's any way I canarrangeit, I'll make
thethingwink.
Footnotes:
[1] If youlivenearby, by all means donate. TheMaxwell Museumholds
theworld's only collectionof contemporarywithinthelast fifteen
yearshumanbones, used to study everythingfromforensics to the
skeletal manifestations of diseases. P.S.:Your family cango inand visit
your bones, whichthestaff will lay out for you, thoughprobably not in
theshapeof anall-together skeleton.
Acknowledgements
Peoplewho work withcadavers do not, as ageneral rule, enjoy the
spotlight. Their work is misunderstood and their fundingvulnerableto
negativepublicity. What follows is agroup of peoplewho had every
reasonnot to returnmy calls, yet did. Commander MarleneDeMaio,
Colonel JohnBaker, and Lieutenant Colonel Robert Harris, I saluteyour
candor. DebMarth, Albert King, JohnCavanaugh, and thestaff of the
WayneStateimpact lab, thank youfor openingdoors that don't oftenget
opened. Rick Lowden, Dennis Shanahan, Arpad Vass, and Robert White,
thank youfor beingcharmingand endlessly patient whileI asked inane
questions and used up entireafternoons of your time.
For helpingmakeimpossiblethings possible, I must thank the
miraculous Sandy Wan, JohnQ. Owsley, VonPeterson, HughPatterson,
and my pal RonWalli. Anespecially warmthank-youto SusanneWiigh-
Masak and her family for puttingup withme(and puttingmeup) for
threedays and nights. For sharingtheir timeand tremendous
knowledge, I thank Cindy Bir, Key Rey Chong, DanCorcoran, Art
Dalley, NicoleD'Ambrogio, TimEvans, Roy Glover, JohnT. Greenwood,
DonHuelke, Paul Israel, GordonKaye, Tyler Kress, DuncanMacPherson,
Aris Makris, Theo Martinez, KevinMcCabe, Mack McMonigle, Bruce
Latimer, Mehmet Oz, Terry Spracher, Jack Springer, Dennis Tobin, Ronn
Wade, MikeWalsh, Med-O Whitson, MegWinslow, and Frederick
Zugibe.
A bighugto Jeff Greenwald for thesupport and martinis, to LauraFraser
for her unflaggingenthusiasm, and to StephGold, who spent threedays
of her summer vacationwithmeinHaikou, China, whenalmost
anywhereelsewould havebeenmorefun. I thank Clark for beingClark,
LisaMargonelli for makingmelaughwhenall was darkest, and Ed for
lovingawomanwho writes about cadavers.
Special thanks must go to David Talbot, braveand brilliant founder of
Salon.com, for gettingtheball rolling, and to my smart and outrageously
good agent, Jay Mandel. To my editor, thegifted poet and novelist Jill
Bialosky, thank youendlessly for your patience, vision, and editorial
grace. Every writer shouldbeso fortunate.
And finally, my gratitudeto UM 006, H, Mr. Blank, Ben, thebigguy in
thesweatpants, and theowners of theforty heads. Youaredead, but
you'renot forgotten.
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