On cadavers and growing older
Jul. 22nd, 2006 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kimberkitYou guys are great -- I got such lovely calls and emails wishing me a happy birthday. Thank you :)
I guess it was a pretty good birthday, too, actually -- Neil spoiled me, of course, and I lazed about. It was a nice change to a week that had its fill of icky emotions and physical pain, though I spent a large portion of today recovering from various physical stressors (partly the result of my own klutziness, with subway doors closing on me, etc, but also partly emotional stuff spilling over). Neil reassured me that even though I felt like I was being such a baby about physical pain, that he still wanted to be there. I got held and cuddled like I wanted. I edited photos. It was a day of emotional healing along with everything else.
Funny how emotions so often are reflected in our bodies. Relaxing, I can feel the tightness in my shoulders and neck go. Tense earlier this week, I walked into things and hurt myself on all sorts of levels, lack of sleep included.
As part of the massage school curriculum, we're required to go to a cadaver viewing every semester. I went, and was sickened and afraid.
It wasn't just an "ick" reaction. There was that -- the pickled appearance of the cadaver was kind of gross, and the gave me an instant headache. But largely, I realized my lasting reaction is that of revulsion and fear. Fear because I wasn't able to detach myself, and if I want to transition into physical therapy, or a more medical side of massage, then I need to be able to detach.
I watched the lecturer lift a flap of skin ("look at the fat on this lady, she wasn't healthy. I had to cut away two inches of fat!"), and felt a pulse of revulsion at his callousness. I was grossed out by the fact that he scratched his face after touching the corpse. (What is the point of having gloves if you're going to contaminate yourself?) I observed him flip the corpse over -- it still had breast tissue and pubic hair and a vagina -- and wanted to cover some of the vital bits up. I worried over what I would look like when I got older. I was tired, thinking of my recent grandfather, and felt kind of ill at the vague sense of disrespect.
But all of those reactions -- the empathy and horror and feeling of disgust -- need to be contained in a medical setting. I question some of my direction, I suppose.
Fortunately, I have a very loving primary partner, who reminds me that detachment isn't gained overnight -- that empathy is valuable in a massage field. I love talking with him. I also have the sense people care for me, and that helps to heal.
So onward into another year I go...
I guess it was a pretty good birthday, too, actually -- Neil spoiled me, of course, and I lazed about. It was a nice change to a week that had its fill of icky emotions and physical pain, though I spent a large portion of today recovering from various physical stressors (partly the result of my own klutziness, with subway doors closing on me, etc, but also partly emotional stuff spilling over). Neil reassured me that even though I felt like I was being such a baby about physical pain, that he still wanted to be there. I got held and cuddled like I wanted. I edited photos. It was a day of emotional healing along with everything else.
Funny how emotions so often are reflected in our bodies. Relaxing, I can feel the tightness in my shoulders and neck go. Tense earlier this week, I walked into things and hurt myself on all sorts of levels, lack of sleep included.
As part of the massage school curriculum, we're required to go to a cadaver viewing every semester. I went, and was sickened and afraid.
It wasn't just an "ick" reaction. There was that -- the pickled appearance of the cadaver was kind of gross, and the gave me an instant headache. But largely, I realized my lasting reaction is that of revulsion and fear. Fear because I wasn't able to detach myself, and if I want to transition into physical therapy, or a more medical side of massage, then I need to be able to detach.
I watched the lecturer lift a flap of skin ("look at the fat on this lady, she wasn't healthy. I had to cut away two inches of fat!"), and felt a pulse of revulsion at his callousness. I was grossed out by the fact that he scratched his face after touching the corpse. (What is the point of having gloves if you're going to contaminate yourself?) I observed him flip the corpse over -- it still had breast tissue and pubic hair and a vagina -- and wanted to cover some of the vital bits up. I worried over what I would look like when I got older. I was tired, thinking of my recent grandfather, and felt kind of ill at the vague sense of disrespect.
But all of those reactions -- the empathy and horror and feeling of disgust -- need to be contained in a medical setting. I question some of my direction, I suppose.
Fortunately, I have a very loving primary partner, who reminds me that detachment isn't gained overnight -- that empathy is valuable in a massage field. I love talking with him. I also have the sense people care for me, and that helps to heal.
So onward into another year I go...
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-24 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-24 12:58 pm (UTC)(The cadaver thing just sounds really creepy to me, and I think you handled the situation with a lot of resolve. And yes, you do need to detach, but you need to maintain empathy too. It's a strange balance, as Graeme has noted...)