Uncomfortable

From Rockford, we traveled in near blackout conditions.  The fog was so thick that for most of the last forty miles of driving, Christine followed the white line on the edge of the road.  At one point, on the opposite side of the road, there were some orange flashing lights for a stopped vehicle.  We weren't driving very fast, so we thanked God that it wasn't stopped in front of us or we would have rear ended it, but we did see that it was an Amish buggy.  Strangely, Jedediah decided it was a good time to get some churned butter from brother Ezekiel's house, and was caught along the side of the road in the fog.  I think I've seen everything now.

It made me uncomfortable, though, to sit in the passenger seat while someone else - even Christine, who is a good driver - has control of the wheel.  There were moments when a corner would mysteriously rise from the mist, and we would swerve quickly to avoid embracing the far bank of the ditch with our front fender.  In times of distress and discomfort like this, I can feel my shoulders tense up, my hands clench and my bowels feel as if they are about ready to let loose. 

When I'm uncomfortable in a situation where other people are present, I have a technique that I've been practicing over the years to get my mind off the distressing situation.  I'm a big New York Mets fan, so I'll do this Mets visualization: I recite the names of the 1986 Mets team.  I still remember all of their names and by doing one of these two things, I am able to place my mind in a sufficiently happy place to allow me to make it through the strife.

That being said, there are relatively few things that make me truly uncomfortable.  One of them occurs quite frequently here in Australia.  In public bathrooms in the United States, whether at sporting arenas, airports, churches etc., the designers of the facilities will place individual urinals designed for privacy with either a modesty divider or at least a high sided toilet.  But here in Australia, often public men's toilets will have what I like to call the stainless steel trough.  Usually, the stainless steel will reach from ground to mid-chest height, no dividers and they have a grating (foot sized) which men will stand on.  It wreaks havoc when one is wearing sandals. 

Every time I go into a public restroom and see the stainless steel trough, I cringe - it makes me uncomfortable.  So when I'm standing next to a stranger and he's whistling away while his urine is passing underneath the grating under my feet... And now, up to bat, Keith Hernandez batting third...

I was very uncomfortable once on our trip.

After arriving at Rich and Emily Dianchun's (that's not how it is really spelled, but that's how it's pronounced) we ate a wonderful meal with their family and their next door neighbors.  Rich is a professor at the University of Wisconsin - Platteville.  Rich is a medical doctor but teaches science courses at the university, specifically anatomy and physiology and he had a wonderful opportunity for Elsa who is interested in medicine: the chance to examine a cadaver.

I'm not a squeamish person by nature.  I grew up on the farm.  Committing duckicide was a yearly event and dissecting poultry was second nature.  Multiple times I'd seen my grandfather slice beef into different cuts of meat and none of that bothered me, but someone was going to have to bring Elsa to the University in order for her to get a 'first hand' experience with a deceased person. 

I didn't want Rich to see my nervousness and certainly I didn't want Elsa to think her old man was weak in the stomach, so I did what I always do:  Rafael Santana picks up the grounder, tosses it to Wally Backman and on to first, Double Play!

Platteville is not a big university in the broad perspective of things, so we entered the science building and found Rich at his desk talking about his exams with students.  We had to wait.  What's worse than being uncomfortable?  Waiting while in the midst of it.  Elsa and I walked down the brown brick hallways with sterile tile floor.  It kind of felt like a morgue, if you ask me.  After a while, Rich came out and took us to the room where the cadavers were.  As we entered the room, there were six containers approximately the size of a coffin lined against the wall.  Rich smiled and laughed, sniffled like he always does, and then offered me a leftover doughnut from breakfast.

Awesome. 

I could tell Elsa was nervous also - her eyes kept straying to the right where the corpses were.  These generous people had donated their bodies to science to allow the next generation of doctors the opportunity to inspect how the body systems worked and fit together.  As we nervously looked over at the containers, Rich was telling us some of the stories of things that can happen to some of the students who view the cadavers the first time.  Some tough kids seem like they are doing well and then all of the sudden they're sitting on the chairs head between their legs.  Some find that doughnuts and cadaver viewing don't go well together.  Either way, I was half listening to Rich and half wondering how my own body was going to react.  Were my shoulders hunching?  I loosened my clenched fists and tightened my bowels.  I can do this.

"So," Rich said, "If you feel anything strange, don't be afraid to sit down.  Everyone feeling okay?"

I was smiling.  It was a fake smile, but I had to be tough for Elsa.  She didn't seem to be having any problems.

Rich walked over to the cadaver container.  "When we receive a cadaver, we have to drain the bodily floods and essentially remove the fat from the body."  He pointed to a five gallon plastic bucket.  "This is where those fluids and lipids are stored."  Aaaaand Mookie Wilson makes a great catch in the outfield.  The crowd is going wild.

When Rich cranked open the container, there was a certain odor that was muffled but overwhelmingly present.  I won't describe that here, but I was certainly thinking about how great a third basemen Ray Knight was.  I could feel my ears start to ring a little bit, my vision started to narrow.  I stared at Rich intently, soaking in none of his words but doing my greatest acting job ever, or so I hoped.  I nodded.

"The cadaver was a fifty something year old man who died of cancer.  The body is covered by a sheet because we have to keep them moist."  Not only do I hate the word 'moist,' I had already imagined Darryl Strawberry who is over fifty years old now. 

Then, Rich did what he had to do: he pulled back the sheet.  I didn't know what to expect, but the skin was off the cadaver and placed at various odd intervals all over the body.  What normally covered the chest, was covering the man's legs.  He had nipples where his knees were supposed to be.  O, Gary Carter, throw that man out at second base.

Elsa was enrapt, and I was just trying not to think about the uneaten doughnuts sitting on the shelf behind me.

"So, we'll just take a look at the extremities first," and he unveiled the arm which still had the skin on the hands and fingernails attached.  Kevin McReynolds swats one deep.  It's way back, way back... It's Gone!  Home run for the Mets left fielder.

"Do you guys want to put on gloves and take a poke around?"  Heavens to Betsy, Rich - do you think I'm Roger McDowell?  I'm not going to get in there and look for the man's spleen.  Elsa put on her gloves and began to probe the vascular system, arteries and veins in the cadaver's arms.  If Elsa was going to do it, by Jesse Orosco, I was going to do it.  My hands trembled as I put on the blue latex gloves.  It was the only time in my life when I wished I had an allergy - to latex  - and then I could have left with dignity.  Sorry Rich, I'm getting a rash on my throat from the gloves.  Gotta go get some Sudafed. 

Nope.  Rich held up the cadaver's arm and I touched the tendon.  Okay, good enough. 

"Now let's take a look at the skull."  For Ron Darling's sake, Rich. 

"So, here is the brain," he took it out and handed it to Elsa.  Lenny Dykstra makes an amazing catch.  And instead of throwing the ball back in, he runs deliberately, in slow, slow motion and drops it into the pitchers and runs slowly, oh so slowly, back to right field.

We made our way through the chest cavity, which had been numbered for the test.  This didn't seem so bad.  I was getting used to this now.  For certain I could have been a doctor.  I could suture, and fix...

Then, Rich uncovered the man's groin.  His, well, his, you know... that part... had been bisected, sliced in half to have the parts labeled.  And now, ladies and gentlemen, the New York Mets, and their owner, Abner Doubleday, and general manager, Frank Cashen would like to thank you for your patronage. 

No more poking around.  "Very nice, Rich, thanks for the tour of the human body.  I think it's time that my impressionable daughter and I got going." 

Unfortunately, Elsa was fascinated by the Achilles tendon and seeing how they work.  She and Rich uncovered the face and looked at the muscles and eyes and teeth while I stood back a little bit replaying game six of the 1986 World Series over and over in my head.  And the ball goes through Bill Buckner's legs.  Mets win!  Mets win!

Elsa is amazing and Rich is an incredible professor.  He was professional and very respectful of the cadaver.  Elsa had a great time writing to her friends to tell them what she was doing on her school holidays.  While they were at the beach, riding horses, swimming and doing other activities Elsa was holding a human liver in her hands.

It was great to spend some time with them and even in my discomfort, I find humor in the journey.  I hope you all can find humor in moments of discomfort.