He made certain his will was airtight, all the paperwork carefully completed and in the hands of his sister. He was a skilled carpenter and had worked on the construction of more houses than he could remember. He had a sturdy build, which gave no indication of the enlarged heart he knew he had.
His doctor had diagnosed this condition when he made his first-ever visit to a physician…in his 30th year. The doctor lectured him, warned him and suggested a follow-up visit, all of which he ignored. He had no one dependent upon him, and he had always lived his life as he wanted. Why did he need more doctoring?
Most of the houses he had worked on in the new subdivision were now finished. A few remained. It was a hot day in mid-summer, his heart gave out and he fell from the ladder to the ground, dead. He knew it would be coming someday, but not today.
His sister sorted through all the papers. He had long ago prepared her for this. The only document that gave her a start was the certificate that confirmed that he had donated his body to the local medical school. Its only stipulation—and the medical school had agreed to this--was that he be dressed in his best suit, a suit he bought for this occasion, a suit he would have worn in his casket. Whoever dissected him needed to undress him first.
The doctor who presided over the anatomy lab asked for a volunteer dissect the dressed cadaver. A response was slow in coming, but finally a young woman named Willa agreed to take the man. She was a smart, capable student with a quiet and determined demeanor. The oddity of the circumstance appealed to her.
After the doctor’s initial instructions to the class, she began slowly undressing her cadaver, unloosening and removing his tie, shoes and socks. She noticed that the coat’s breast pocket, which would normally hold a handkerchief, actually held a folded piece of paper. She opened it carefully and read: “I’m yours. Do with me as you wish.” It wasn’t signed.
It was necessary to use a scissors to cut away his jacket and slacks in pieces, for easy removal. She stopped to look at his face, ruddy with a little stubble that had continued to grow after his death. His cheeks were full with a small cut at his jaw line. His hair had receded some and was sprinkled with gray. She covered his head with dark cloth, an expected part of the dissection ritual.
What could she learn about or feel about the dead stranger she was about to cut into? As she worked at the dissection, she would surely fantasize about his life. Who were his relatives? How would she come to know him through the physical history that was his body?
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