Other

Of Brains and Buckets

​Cold and grey, floating in a bucket of putrid liquid.
This is you now, and you aren't alone.
There are others.
There are thirty buckets, sitting in a row.
Thirty cold, grey masses of idiosyncracies.

Of Brains and Buckets


Dissecting the brain is crucial component of human anatomy. Frankly, I was excited about this opportunity. Last year, we worked on all aspects of the human body except for the brain. I remember how all of us were so intent on keeping our cadavers' faces covered. It made things less personal and much more manageable.


After a few weeks of breaking down my cadaver, I was shocked to walk into lab one afternoon and find that the top of her skull had been removed. While we were falling asleep in lecture that morning, the lab technicians had gone around with saws, methodically slicing away at each of the cadaver's heads. The brains had been removed for further processing and preservation. They would remain in cold storage for almost an entire year until we would be reunited.


The cadavers themselves are long gone. Last year, I had befriended one of the lab techs and he had shown me how each body is packed up in a long rectangular box and shipped off to be cremated. I don't think you could call it a body anymore though. Over the course of ten weeks, we had taken her skin off, displaced bones, torn muscles, removed the heart and lungs, put them back inside, punctured the bowels, and sawed her face, tongue and throat in half. Decomposition was inevitable and over the weeks of us prodding and jabbing at them with poorly washed scalpels and forceps, some cadavers began to grow fungus in the most unexpected places.


But it was soon over. The bodies were shipped off and the ashes made their way back to each donor's family.


All that was left of those cadavers were their brains- the heart of their being. I know we think of the heart as the seat of our character, our drive, our fire... but it isn't so. The love you feel, the anger, the sadness- all of that is born in the brain. It was strange reaching into the bucket for the first time. The liquid was somewhat orangeish pink and murky. My fingers sank through the cold liquid and felt for something that it had never felt before. I touched the soft, gelatinous undulations soon enough and with both hands carefully lifted the brain, determined not to drop it and slosh all the juices on my groupmates. We had already seen the group across from us make that mistake.


With the brain resting in my cupped palms, I gently transferred it onto a metal tray. It slid around on the tray for a few seconds and we all laughed nervously. I think at that moment, all of us had one word emblazoned across our minds. Cool.


Over the next two weeks, we took turns slicing it. Two of us would stabilize the brain while the third would take the brain knife and make smooth, horizontal cuts. It almost felt like we were cutting through mozzarella. We spent hours poring over each segment- memorizing landmarks, gyri, sulci, and functions. We touched the part of the brain that allows us to remember our first crush, the part that helps us distinguish our mother's face from a coat rack, the part that guides us as we walk from the deli back home. We learned about how losing blood supply in certain locations could cause the loss of speech, sight, and movement. We learned about the frontal lobe, "the seat of personality," the part that makes you, uniquely you.

It was even easier to become desensitized this time around. There were no faces, no painted fingernails, no tattoos- nothing to really remind us that these buckets contained the essence of someone's father, mother, brother, lover. We were so intent on learning, so enamored by it, we became careless.

Did I leave my cerebellum on your tray?

How come I have an extra medulla oblongata?

Guys.... I'm missing an entire sagittal slice....

Needless to say, it's been an adventure. It's made me feel more... connected to myself in a way. When I stumble over a phrase, I know what's gone awry. When I feel extra sleepy, I know what process is mediating that effect. When I feel fear and anxiety, I know what's in overdrive. Anatomy isn't just for people in the sciences. It's for everyone. You are the master of your own body, and yet, so many of us know so little about its workings. That knowledge doesn't belong to any one group- it belongs to you. So read up. And thank your brain. You're going to need it. :)

Of Brains and Buckets
Post Opinion