The following are excerpts from stories by students of the Tzu Chi College of Medicine. Their first experiences in the anatomy lab made them feel agitated, frustrated and appreciative. The body donors not only silently guided them into the mysteries of the human body, but showed them the impermanence of life and the beauty of death. This heart-touching moment may become one of their most precious, unforgettable memories.

Dying With Dignity

By Lai Kun-cheng,
Anatomy Department Instructor

Knowing that I teach anatomy at the Tzu Chi College of Medicine, many friends ask me, "How many dead bodies have you done?" "Isn't it terrifying?" "Have you ever had some eerie experience?"

Generally speaking, normal people are scared of cadavers, not to mention the ghastly experience of cutting them up. I remember my first class in the gross anatomy lab: I took a knife and carefully, respectfully dismembered the cadaver, which had the same body structures as mine. However, this respectful attitude didn't last long. Just a few weeks later, my teammates and I started to complain about this clumsy job and to tease the thick fat of the cadaver. To me, it was no longer an individual human that deserved our respect, but a learning tool. Moreover, the pungent smell of formalin and the sense of frustration at failing to find an organ as shown on the charts made me feel contempt for the body.

At the end of the semester, looking at the scattered organs and fat of the bodies, I asked myself if I had showed even a bit of respect for them, or if I would donate my own body for medical students to dissect into pieces. The answer was definitely negative. I expected to be treated like a human being even when I was dead, but I did not see that on the dissection table.

I admit that in the anatomy lab, I gained a lot of knowledge which could never be learned through studying textbooks. I also believed those body donors deserved our admiration. However, I just couldn't convince myself to join them. I had very mixed emotions. Why? Because I felt it was something meaningful to donate our bodies for medical research, but on the other hand I thought it would be embarrassing to be dissected by students while lying naked on a table. (I bet lots of people out there feel the same way as I did.)

But since I joined Tzu Chi a year ago, I have changed. Inspired by Master Cheng Yen, who brought the Buddhist teachings to life, and influenced by the rich humanitarian spirit of Tzu Chi people, I got rid of my contradictory thoughts and now feel much more at ease. The Master says, "Our life is impermanent, but the life of wisdom is everlasting." Our life is fragile, indeed. We respect someone not because of how long he lives, but for how much he contributes to the world.

Those donors made use of their bodies to teach students something they could never learn from books. They won their dignity and respect. To me, it is the life of wisdom which will benefit all people, generation after generation. Hence, I no longer reject the idea of donating my body, and I hope more people will follow me to help enhance the quality of medical education.

The Tiger Gate

By Juan Shao-chiu

The entrance of the gross anatomy lab was like the Tiger Gate between the front and back stages in Cantonese opera. Once I set foot into the lab, I had to set all my emotions aside and start to play the role of a good medical student. Was I afraid? Absolutely! I had never seen dead bodies. I started to bargain: "Can I just look at the rest of the body except for that symbol of the soul, his face?"

I knew it wouldn't work. At the moment the white cloths covering the body were unwrapped, my muscles, blood vessels and nerves all tightened up. I held my breath and took a quick glimpse at my "teacher."

To my surprise, I saw such a peaceful face! He seemed in deep sleep, tranquil and restful. I was profoundly touched by the beauty and dignity of death. My fear gradually melted and the cool lab felt warmer.

Outside the lab, I could be very sentimental and cry at the end of any life. However once inside the lab, I had to be tough and cool in order to cut and dissect the body, because later I would be responsible for helping people relieve their physical pain. Looking back, I felt fulfilled and delighted. I wanted to tell him, "I will remember your gracious look forever. Many thanks to you."

Humanitarianism vs. Materialism

By Chen Mei-yin

I used to avoid anything related to death. So, from the first day in medical college, I worried about the anatomy class.

The moment eventually came. Fortunately, the nuns from the Abode of Still Thoughts led us in chanting "Amitabha" before the class began, and that helped calm us down. However, as I unzipped the body bag, I was so indescribably apprehensive. What did a person look like after he died? What kind of person was he before he died? And what right did I have to dissect him?

I touched his frozen body and the temperature showed the distinction between us-I was alive and he was dead. Perhaps I was just not ready yet. I had felt so sympathetic when I dissected frogs or mice. How much more uneasy I felt at dissecting a human being! I wondered what he had been like, what he had done and where his family was now. The more I humanized him, the less I could cut into the body. After all, he was a human being. I thought he deserved respect even after his death. He shouldn't be "materialized," turned into a thing to be used.

Every four students shared a cadaver, so we couldn't let up on ourselves. Though exhausted, I felt that I had to learn every little thing. If I ignorantly cut even a tiny nerve some day, it might affect a patient's life.

Master Cheng Yen said, "You do not have the right to own your body, but only the right to use it." Those donors transformed their wrecked bodies into something useful. I think the greatest repayment I can give to the donors is to study hard and become a conscientious doctor.

A Trembling Beginning

By Chen Chun-ting

The demarcation line between life and death is so thin that we can easily go across it. But it is a journey of no return. We can never get those people back once they go. With the removal of skin layer by layer, I could see the yellowish fat. Holding the scalpel in my hand, I asked myself: if this were a living man tottering on that line between life and death, would I be able to pull him back to this side?

The class was over. It was getting dark outside the lab and the distant mountains were covered with mist. I took one more glance at the lab. Everything was so unforgettable, especially "him."

A Thrill I Will Never Forget

By Li Kuo-hsien

On the first day of class, dressed in white robes, we all stood behind the nuns who were chanting "Amitabha" in time with the tapping of a wooden drum echoing in the classroom. I held a sheet of paper with a Buddhist scripture on it, but my brain was completely blank.

Though I was agitated at first, I soon got used to everything in the lab, opening the box, unwrapping the white cloths that covered the body... I don't remember when I started to treat him as an experimental item. I consoled myself that in the lab, I had to be fairly unemotional, and so I forgave my lack of concern.

That afternoon when we were preparing to disclose the head, I carelessly cut off a blood vessel beneath the scalp, and the frozen blood clots slowly oozed out. I couldn't stand my ignorance any more. I dropped the knife and fell onto the chair, feeling totally wretched.

For the first time I looked at his face closely, and I noticed that we were so much alike. My heart ached when I looked at his dissected body. I then realized it indeed needed great love and courage to donate one's body. He was as great as a bodhisattva, willing to give even his body.

Sense and Sensibility

By Tsai En-lin

The medical students had a group of "teachers" who remained silent all the time, but who used themselves as real-life experiments to drill medical knowledge into the students.

When I started dissecting the body, I felt the pain he suffered as if he had become part of my life. I thought a physician had to be sensitive yet rational, turning emotions and apprehensions into knowledge.

I imagined that he used to be like us, with feelings of happiness and sadness. When he died, he must have been surrounded by his family. Now it was a group of strangers standing around him. Thinking of this inexplicable relationship between us, the feelings of gratitude and respect toward him grew ever more solid. He was a bodhisattva, turning his worldly body into knowledge which was engraved firmly in our minds so that we could save more patients.

Although we never heard him lecture, we did sense his great expectation: that we would become accomplished, dedicated doctors.

A Tough Job

By Wang Po-han

After the Buddhist ceremony commemorating the body donors, all the living people were gone, leaving us behind with dead people in exquisite iron boxes. When the advisor called "Go," everyone immediately started to remove the wrappings, and in a moment the cadavers were all exposed.

The white wrappings scared me. It was "her." The other three teammates and I started to make marks on her chest, like toddlers holding a big pen and trying to draw a straight line on a piece of wrinkled paper. Two weeks later, I took the dissection work as routine, forgetting all fear or even respect for the dead.

In order to keep up with the schedule, I worked carelessly and I often cut off vessels and nerves. At first I thought it was no big deal. However, the more mistakes I made, the less I could control my temper. A thought went across my mind: she was not a disposable commercial item, but an instructor who wanted to help me acquire enough knowledge to save my future patients' lives. I lost my confidence to carry on.

Three things happened that made me think thoroughly about the meaning of body donation. First, a couple of close calls on my motorcycle made me aware that I could join her at any moment. Then one day, when I turned her around, her hair floated loosely in the preservative solution. I suddenly realized that I might possibly have met this person before. Third, I felt furious when I heard someone talk disrespectfully about a body.

I no longer pay my gratitude and respect to the people who gave their bodies just because my instructors told me to. Now I truly feel it in the depth of my heart.

The Torch of Life Passes On

By Chang En-ting

When we first made our acquaintance, he was lying tranquilly on the table. I could sense that under the khaki skin was a spirit of true love. Yet although he used his body to show me complicated body structures, I only repaid him by breathing on his undisturbed face as I leaned down to work. I don't remember how many afternoons I rummaged inside his body with medical tools, almost forgetting that he was once a person.

Exhausted after an evening in the lab, I walked through the dark night back to the empty dorm. In the shower, gazing at my naked body, I reflected that there were many people who were once as young as I and who were loved by their families. But when their lives were about to vanish, they chose to make them shine by putting their bodies in our hands. With the end of this life, many doctors-to-be can obtain fundamental medical knowledge which will help save numerous other lives.

He was not simply an anatomy "advisor," but he also instructed me to delve into the mysteries of living and dying. Moreover, his devoted religious spirit inspired in me the true value of life. It is my responsibility to spread his seeds of enthusiasm and love everywhere.

Heart of Gratitude

By Tu Yi-hsun

The first day of class was my birthday. That day I gave thanks to my parents for giving me life twenty-one years ago, and at the same time I experienced the true meaning of life-continuous giving and sacrifice.

In the anatomy class, I pretended to be highly interested and concerned. However, inside my heart, I wondered why we came into this world. Why should one be a good doctor? As soon as the wrappings were removed, I saw the answers in the body's peaceful expressions of kindness, compassion, joy and unselfish giving.

Looking through the lab windows at the statue of the Earth Treasury Bodhisattva, I had an unexplainable feeling of belonging, calm and peaceful. On some lonely nights when I was totally fatigued by the hard work, those people who had given themselves always reminded me that it was worth it all as long as I was able to serve patients in the future.