“Autopsy” by Natalie Piper
It was 3:30 in the afternoon when I got the call from Scott. In his thick English accent he told me that he was going to an autopsy that evening on a male that had died in a motorcycle accident and invited me to go along. I had been an intern at the local coroner’s office for six months and I was finally going to my first autopsy.
Scott met me later that night in the basement of St. John’s hospital. Anticipation and nervousness bubbled in my stomach as we waited for the security guard to grant us entrance. The heavy morgue doors opened and Dr. Richard Goldberg welcomed us in. The room smelled strongly of sterilizing cleaners and slightly of death, much like the countless funeral homes I had been in. Dr. Goldberg introduced himself to me with a warm, genuine smile behind his goggles and scrubs. We suited up in gloves, booties, and surgical gowns as he pulled our “patient” out of the cooler. We transported the heavy black body bag onto the autopsy table and zipped it open.
The body that lay before me was a young man only a couple of years older than me clad with a leather biking jacket and ripped up jeans. We removed his clothes and rinsed the blood from his sodden hair. Dr. Goldberg worked with ease and charted every mark, scrape, and tattoo with excruciating detail. Dr. Goldberg was a middle-aged man with a definite intellectual air that came with countless years of schooling but he answered every question and comment I made with friendliness that put me much more at ease. Scott pulled out the Deputy Coroner camera and began take photos of the body at every angle while I rolled his fingerprints and drew blood for toxicology from under the collarbone. Dr. Goldberg rolled the body on its side to check for any marks on the back. A very foul odor soon followed and it seemed to overpower the entire room.
“I didn’t think he would smell that bad,” I said honestly.
“Oh yeah he farted,” said the doctor with a big smirk on his face. I looked from him to Scott as if they were crazy.
“What? No way. How is that possible?”
“When we die a lot of internal gases begin the build up as the decomposition process happens. The gas continues to build up until it finds its way out. So yes, dead bodies can fart.” We all laughed and went back to work.
Then it was time to begin and Scott and I stood back and watched Dr. Goldberg do his job. I took a deep breath as he pushed the scalpel into the skin. He cut a Y shaped incision down the front of the body’s torso until right above the pubic mound and cut the flesh back to expose the muscles over the ribs. He then got the pruning shears and cut the ribs out to expose the organs in the body. The crunches of the ribs breaking were loud but yet not as unpleasant as most people imagine it to be.
“After removing the sternum and ribs you then remove each organ to examine it. I will take some samples from each organ to examine later in the lab with better detail,” said Dr. Goldberg.
Biology textbooks and body diagrams look nothing like the real life organs packed into the human body like a perfectly messy machine. One by one Dr. Goldberg cut out and removed each organ and let me handle and poke at anything I wanted to. At this point I was digging into the body right alongside Dr. Goldberg. The nervousness was replaced with awe and excitement. I held up the liver from this young body like a newborn baby just delivered from the womb. Its gigantic size easily filled up both of my hands. I’d never imagined that livers were that big. Dr. Goldberg then removed both of the lungs and placed them into my hands. The spongy softness felt mushy on my fingers.
“Not a spot of black in the lungs. You can tell this is a young body in perfectly healthy condition,” said Dr. Goldberg as he sliced the lungs into sections like he was preparing steak for supper.
“I’m not really into Hibachi anymore,” said the doctor. We all laughed. His easy disposition alleviated any last bit of apprehension I felt.
Last to be removed were the intestines. Inch by never ending inch, the leftover fecal matter was pushed through the tangled web of intestines and then left in a pouch at the colon that was tied off. Inevitably some fecal matter ended up on the doctor’s hands and the smell was less than enjoyable. It may have been the grossest odor in the world, but to see the way our digestive tract was laid out made me flush with excitement and the smell no longer mattered in the least.
After each organ had been examined and removed it was time to examine the brain, where most of the damage from the accident had ensued. The doctor cut the skin around the head from ear to ear with a sharp scalpel.
“Cut the skin where headphones would be around his head,” said the doctor.
He peeled back the skin and flapped it over the face like a Halloween mask, then out came the saw. He said it was the same saw found in doctors’ offices used to cut off casts. Then he started his work on the skullcap. He sawed ear-to-ear and then around the back of the head. Dust flew up from around the skull and the smell was identical to hair burning in a hairdryer. The skullcap popped off pretty easily to expose the brain. It took my brain a while to realize that this was happening in real life and that I wasn’t just watching some gory movie at home. I appreciated how good the makeup and special effects were in The Walking Dead because it looked identical to how television illustrates it. Dr. Goldberg showed me the huge fracture in the skull where the guy had hit his head. The helmet didn’t make much of a difference with the force that his head hit the pavement. There were a lot of blood clots around the brain because of the trauma it had gone through. We sliced the brain into sections to look at all the damage it had received from its fatal blow to the pavement.
“With this much trauma to the brain, it’s safe to say he died pretty much instantly,” said Dr. Goldberg as he sliced through the hemorrhaged sections of the brain. I sighed from relief knowing that this young man didn’t have to suffer. I just imagined the relief his parents would feel when they were told their son didn’t have to suffer.
We placed his skullcap back on his head and Dr. Goldberg sewed his skin back together in a way that made an open casket funeral a possibility. There would be no indication that his brain had just been removed from his head. We bagged up all the remaining scraps of organs and put them back into the chest cavity, then crudely sewed up the Y incision so that his body was once again closed. He was placed back into his body bag where he was now ready to be sent to the funeral home to be embalmed and prepared for viewing.
And that was it. I had survived my first autopsy. Actually I think thrived would be a better word. It was the most amazing, life changing experience that has ever happened to me. The way-too-early end of this man’s life was a tragedy, but also a gift I am eternally grateful to him for. This one autopsy had singlehandedly changed my life and showed me that the world of Forensic Pathology is one I belonged to. I will always thank him for that.
Scott met me later that night in the basement of St. John’s hospital. Anticipation and nervousness bubbled in my stomach as we waited for the security guard to grant us entrance. The heavy morgue doors opened and Dr. Richard Goldberg welcomed us in. The room smelled strongly of sterilizing cleaners and slightly of death, much like the countless funeral homes I had been in. Dr. Goldberg introduced himself to me with a warm, genuine smile behind his goggles and scrubs. We suited up in gloves, booties, and surgical gowns as he pulled our “patient” out of the cooler. We transported the heavy black body bag onto the autopsy table and zipped it open.
The body that lay before me was a young man only a couple of years older than me clad with a leather biking jacket and ripped up jeans. We removed his clothes and rinsed the blood from his sodden hair. Dr. Goldberg worked with ease and charted every mark, scrape, and tattoo with excruciating detail. Dr. Goldberg was a middle-aged man with a definite intellectual air that came with countless years of schooling but he answered every question and comment I made with friendliness that put me much more at ease. Scott pulled out the Deputy Coroner camera and began take photos of the body at every angle while I rolled his fingerprints and drew blood for toxicology from under the collarbone. Dr. Goldberg rolled the body on its side to check for any marks on the back. A very foul odor soon followed and it seemed to overpower the entire room.
“I didn’t think he would smell that bad,” I said honestly.
“Oh yeah he farted,” said the doctor with a big smirk on his face. I looked from him to Scott as if they were crazy.
“What? No way. How is that possible?”
“When we die a lot of internal gases begin the build up as the decomposition process happens. The gas continues to build up until it finds its way out. So yes, dead bodies can fart.” We all laughed and went back to work.
Then it was time to begin and Scott and I stood back and watched Dr. Goldberg do his job. I took a deep breath as he pushed the scalpel into the skin. He cut a Y shaped incision down the front of the body’s torso until right above the pubic mound and cut the flesh back to expose the muscles over the ribs. He then got the pruning shears and cut the ribs out to expose the organs in the body. The crunches of the ribs breaking were loud but yet not as unpleasant as most people imagine it to be.
“After removing the sternum and ribs you then remove each organ to examine it. I will take some samples from each organ to examine later in the lab with better detail,” said Dr. Goldberg.
Biology textbooks and body diagrams look nothing like the real life organs packed into the human body like a perfectly messy machine. One by one Dr. Goldberg cut out and removed each organ and let me handle and poke at anything I wanted to. At this point I was digging into the body right alongside Dr. Goldberg. The nervousness was replaced with awe and excitement. I held up the liver from this young body like a newborn baby just delivered from the womb. Its gigantic size easily filled up both of my hands. I’d never imagined that livers were that big. Dr. Goldberg then removed both of the lungs and placed them into my hands. The spongy softness felt mushy on my fingers.
“Not a spot of black in the lungs. You can tell this is a young body in perfectly healthy condition,” said Dr. Goldberg as he sliced the lungs into sections like he was preparing steak for supper.
“I’m not really into Hibachi anymore,” said the doctor. We all laughed. His easy disposition alleviated any last bit of apprehension I felt.
Last to be removed were the intestines. Inch by never ending inch, the leftover fecal matter was pushed through the tangled web of intestines and then left in a pouch at the colon that was tied off. Inevitably some fecal matter ended up on the doctor’s hands and the smell was less than enjoyable. It may have been the grossest odor in the world, but to see the way our digestive tract was laid out made me flush with excitement and the smell no longer mattered in the least.
After each organ had been examined and removed it was time to examine the brain, where most of the damage from the accident had ensued. The doctor cut the skin around the head from ear to ear with a sharp scalpel.
“Cut the skin where headphones would be around his head,” said the doctor.
He peeled back the skin and flapped it over the face like a Halloween mask, then out came the saw. He said it was the same saw found in doctors’ offices used to cut off casts. Then he started his work on the skullcap. He sawed ear-to-ear and then around the back of the head. Dust flew up from around the skull and the smell was identical to hair burning in a hairdryer. The skullcap popped off pretty easily to expose the brain. It took my brain a while to realize that this was happening in real life and that I wasn’t just watching some gory movie at home. I appreciated how good the makeup and special effects were in The Walking Dead because it looked identical to how television illustrates it. Dr. Goldberg showed me the huge fracture in the skull where the guy had hit his head. The helmet didn’t make much of a difference with the force that his head hit the pavement. There were a lot of blood clots around the brain because of the trauma it had gone through. We sliced the brain into sections to look at all the damage it had received from its fatal blow to the pavement.
“With this much trauma to the brain, it’s safe to say he died pretty much instantly,” said Dr. Goldberg as he sliced through the hemorrhaged sections of the brain. I sighed from relief knowing that this young man didn’t have to suffer. I just imagined the relief his parents would feel when they were told their son didn’t have to suffer.
We placed his skullcap back on his head and Dr. Goldberg sewed his skin back together in a way that made an open casket funeral a possibility. There would be no indication that his brain had just been removed from his head. We bagged up all the remaining scraps of organs and put them back into the chest cavity, then crudely sewed up the Y incision so that his body was once again closed. He was placed back into his body bag where he was now ready to be sent to the funeral home to be embalmed and prepared for viewing.
And that was it. I had survived my first autopsy. Actually I think thrived would be a better word. It was the most amazing, life changing experience that has ever happened to me. The way-too-early end of this man’s life was a tragedy, but also a gift I am eternally grateful to him for. This one autopsy had singlehandedly changed my life and showed me that the world of Forensic Pathology is one I belonged to. I will always thank him for that.