Clinical Autopsy.

I got a call the day before.

Precisely 15:44 pm.

My Forensic Medicine teacher called. As the group captain , lecturers run class and clinical schedules by me and then I communicate with the rest of my colleagues.

I pick the phone almost immediately.

“ There’s going to be an autopsy tomorrow morning. Your group needs to be at the Regional Hospital by 9:30am.”

I propose 10 am because we have surgery early in the morning and commuting distance wouldn’t give us the flexibility to make it to the regional hospital by 9:30am.

He says alright. Not later than 10:00am.

Yes, Sir. We will meet you there.

Surgery class.

We have a bit of delay because another surgery professor decided to use our lecture room so my teacher had to figure out a free classroom for the class.

Eventually, lecture began.

We round up and we book two taxis headed for the regional hospital.

We get there and Forensic Lecturer is waiting right outside the central entrance.

He leads us to the forensic department and we walk in.

The stench of formaldehyde hits me as soon as we enter. I start feeling nauseous.

(I really really hate autopsies. In my early preclinal years in Nigeria, I loathed the days scheduled for Cadaveric dissections. Here I am in another continent miles away from home – It is also safe to say my stance hasn’t changed.)

The forensic experts begin.

The patient is a young woman who was found dead in her apartment. As physical examination at the site of body recovery did not suggest trauma or assault, a forensic autopsy had to be done.

The dissections begin. Skull first. No trauma. Brain next. No ischemia, embolism or hemorrhage.

Mid line incision from cricoid to pubis symphysis. Internal organs are carefully removed in one stalk.

Tongue. Check. No trauma. Trachea. No trauma. Lungs. No embolism. No fat depositions. Size and structure fairly normal.

Spleen. Normal

Kidney. Renal cyst. My lecturer quickly interjects, “ while this is important for further analysis, it is safe to say this is not the cause of death”. Sample is taken out for biopsy.

Pancreas. Check. Bowel content. Check.

We get to the pelvic cavity and the uterus is absent. “The patient had a previous complete hysterectomy due to uterine cancer”, he adds.

Heart. We find it. Myocardial infarction. The forensic pathologist takes another sample for biopsy.

The rest of the examination was normal.

The teacher gives a brief summary and tells us we can go.

There’s something deeply poignant about funerals, autopsies, and cadaveric dissections. Perhaps it’s the staggering awareness of the mortality of life. Or just how bizarre it is that every single person will take a bow at some point in time. Or the reality check of the fragility of existence.

What the answer is to this quest, that I do not know.