When I went back down to the morgue to check on the body, Kyle and Ricky were already there. Kyle was putting up some supplies and Ricky was repairing a piece of equipment. The cadaver was still hooked up to the embalming machine, but the rhythmic pumping had stopped.
I couldn’t believe what the body looked like now. Just as Kyle had said, the body was grotesquely swollen. The abdomen, which had been distended with the usual belly fat that tends to accumulate after age forty, was now twice the size, and I couldn’t help but notice that the man’s scrotum was now the size of a regulation football. The face was so distorted as to be unrecognizable.
“Hey,” Kyle said. “Everything’s going okay. See, this is what I was telling you about. As the tissues become filled with fluid, the body swells up.”
“How long will it stay this way?” I couldn’t keep my eyes off the cadaver.
“Hard to tell. Sometimes hours, sometimes days. We’ll check it tomorrow and see what it looks like. We need to get good saturation, but I don’t like it to drag on too long. We can always open the internal jugular vein to drain out the excess fluid, if necessary.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do now?”
“Nothing really to do now. Why don’t you go on home and check back tomorrow morning some time?” he said.
“Okay,” I said hastily. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. “See you guys tomorrow.”
###
I did not want to get up the next morning. I’m not a morning person by nature. Most nights, I stay up late. I find that I do my best thinking and studying between six and midnight. That night I kept playing back in my mind all the things that I had seen and heard the night before, from the not so enjoyable preparation of my first cadaver, to the definitely disturbing discovery of Holman and Marilyn’s illicit affair.
I got to the medical school a little after eight o’clock. Thankfully, I didn’t encounter anyone on my way to my office. I felt like shit, and anyone even speaking to me would have taken their life in their hands. I had already had way too many cups of coffee, but they hadn’t really done anything to lighten my mood. When I’m like this, I try to stay away from people until around ten o’clock or so. By then, I’m usually capable of being human – if not altogether pleasant.
After dropping my things off in my office, I made my way down to the morgue. The door was unlocked, but no one was there. No one, that is, except the cadaver. I felt a slight uneasiness when I saw the body lying on the table. Thank God, Kyle had covered it with a sheet when he left the night before, so I didn’t experience the full initial shock of seeing a bloated dead body first thing in the morning. I could tell that the swelling had gone down considerably from the night before, even under the sheet. Just then, Kyle walked in.
“Hi,” he said, pulling off the sheet. “Let’s take a look.” He put on some gloves and started poking and squeezing the body in various places. First, the arms; then, the abdomen; then, the legs.
“Grab some gloves, and I’ll show you what we’re looking for,” he said.
I put on gloves, and he proceeded to show me how to feel the different areas of the body to assess the saturation of the tissues with the embalming fluid. There was already a considerable change in the color of the skin. Even before the embalming, the skin had lost the color associated with living tissue. Now, it had taken on the grey coloration seen in all cadavers, no matter what color or type of skin they had in life.
When we had completed our inspection, Kyle said, “Looks good. I don’t think we’ll have to add any more fluid. The tissues should take up most, if not all, of the rest of the fluid. We can check again this afternoon. And if it still looks good, we’ll remove the tube and package him up.”
“Will you have to drain any of the fluid?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so. But, if we do, we can always do that right before we get ready to use it. Can you come back around three, and I’ll show you how we pack and store the cadavers until they’re ready to be used?”
“Sure,” I said, and left.
###
As I made my way back up to the Department, the prospect of running into Holman or Marilyn made me a little nervous. How was I ever going to look at either of them in the same way. And then it occurred to me. What if they had seen me last night? Would they say anything? What would they do?
The rational side of my brain finally kicked in. Don’t be an idiot, I told myself. You didn’t do anything wrong. They’re the ones who were up to no good. If they saw you, they’ll probably go out of their way to avoid you. Just play it cool – like nothing happened.
I spent the rest of the morning putting the final touches on my lecture that I was scheduled to give the next day. When my mentor in graduate school gave a lecture or seminar, he wrote down everything he wanted to say, word for word, and practiced it over and over. He had tried to get me to use the same technique when I first began giving presentations. But, try as I might, I just couldn’t do it that way. I was so nervous and intent on remembering all the words that I really sucked at giving lectures. After much trial and error, I discovered that the only way for me to give an effective lecture was to keep an outline in my head and to know the material so well that it flowed naturally. As a result, I read and studied everything I could find about the subject I was going to present; so, I was constantly learning. I also spent a lot of time refining my Power Point slides so that they not only presented just the right amount of information, but also provided cues for me to follow during my presentation.
The phone rang, and it was Kate Gilmore. “Hi,” she said. “Want to join Amy and me for lunch in the cafeteria?”
I glanced at the clock. It read eleven-thirty. I hadn’t realized it was lunchtime already. “Sure. Sounds great. I’ll meet you by the elevators.”
I was sorely tempted to spill the beans, so to speak, about Holman and Marilyn to Kate and Amy at lunch. But I didn’t – a testament to my self control. Actually, their conversation was even more interesting to me. So I just shut up and listened.
They were intent on talking about William Orrick and why he was such a miserable excuse for a human being – their words, not mine. I hardly knew the man. It seemed that Kate went to ask him if he would confirm some unusual structure that a couple of students had dissected out in one of the cadavers. She was pretty sure she knew what it was, but since she had only read about it in books and had not really seen it, she wanted to get a second opinion.
“And when I went in his office to ask him about it,” Kate said indignantly, “he just sat there and stared at me. Then without a word, he turned his back to me and started working on some dinky little piece of equipment on his desk.”
“So I said, ‘Bill, could you please come take a look at this? It will only take a minute. I want to be sure I’m telling the students the right thing.’ Well, without even turning around to look at me, he said, ‘Why should this time be any different? I’m sure by now your students know you’re wrong most of the time. Why don’t you go look it up in a book so you can learn some Anatomy for a change and stop bothering me? Get out!’”
“You’ve got to be kidding. He really said that to you?” Amy asked in disbelief. “Did you say anything back to him?”
“I was in total shock at first,” Kate said. “Then I got mad, and I told him that I knew more Anatomy than any freaking ‘engineer’ would ever know and that, unlike him, at least I showed up to actually teach the students in my lab. And I walked out.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In all of my interactions with Orrick so far, and there hadn’t actually been that many, while not very personable, he had at least been respectful. In the Anatomy faculty meetings, he was all business – blunt and to-the-point. I remember thinking that he definitely didn’t have what you would call a ‘pleasant’ disposition. Thinking back, I can’t remember ever seeing him smile.
The students seemed to like him though in lecture. I had noted when he gave his first lecture that he was one of those professors who ‘played’ to the students. Mr. Popularity – very little substance. Some of the information he gave in his lectures wasn’t always correct, but no one questioned him on it. And hey, he was my supervisor. I wasn’t about to correct him. Hearing what Kate said now, I’m sure glad I didn’t.
“Why does he act that way?” Kate said. She was still visibly upset and looking for a reason that would help her to understand why Orrick would verbally attack her in such a way. She seemed to be implying that this kind of behavior wasn’t an isolated incident.
“Does he act that way often?” I asked concerned. I really needed to know what this was all about so I’d have a heads-up in my dealings with Orrick.
Amy looked suddenly sad. “Bill has his problems,” she said. “I’m not giving him right, you understand. He’s not the friendliest person, by any means. But he’s pretty frustrated, and sometimes it gets the best of him.”
“We all have problems,” Kate said impatiently. “You don’t take it out on the people around you, especially when they haven’t done anything to deserve it. What’s he so frustrated about?”
“Well, he hasn’t been able to succeed in his research, for one thing. You’re right. He is an engineer by training. But he tried to transition his engineering background into the biological field and hasn’t been successful. I think he’s only had one, or maybe two, small research grants since he got here. When Roberts hired him, he thought Bill was going to bring in significant grant money for the Department. So he gave him a good amount of seed money to start up his lab and provided him with whatever equipment he wanted. He even pushed for Bill’s promotion to Associate Professor earlier than usual.”
“Unfortunately, as the years went by, Bill’s research went nowhere,” she continued. “No publications and no more grant money. So, of course, he lost favor in Roberts’ eyes, and Roberts cut him off, both money-wise and professionally. He started increasing Bill’s teaching load, like he’s done with the rest of us who don’t bring in a lot of grant money. And he started piling on what I call ‘scut’ work. He’s in charge of the Body Donation Program, the morgue, the maintenance of the labs, and all the materials, chemicals, and equipment that are used in the labs. Not to mention whatever else he’s got him doing behind the scenes that nobody knows about.”
“So Bill’s gotten more and more unhappy, frustrated, and depressed. I don’t know why, but he’s still trying to carry on some small research projects. Just in desperation, I guess. I don’t know where he’s getting even the little money he needs to do it with.”
“Why doesn’t he try to get a position somewhere else?” I asked. I was curious why someone with Orrick’s background would let himself be mistreated like that. Having just gone through the job hunting experience myself, I knew for a fact that there were several faculty positions open for anatomists. Most of them required a lot more experience than I had, which is why I didn’t qualify for them.
“I guess he’s got several reasons, like the rest of us,” Amy replied. “First, most medical schools are looking for people with research funding potential. Teaching is incidental. It’s all about the money. If you’re hired as a junior faculty, what’s your potential for future funding. To get a senior faculty position, you better have funding already, or the imminent probability of securing funding. That rules most of us out.”
“Second,” she continued. “Bill’s got a family. He’s been here now for quite a few years. He’s established roots. It’s not so easy to pick up and move to another part of the country. And his wife works, too. What about her job? Would she be able to find something wherever he would go? And incidentally, tenure comes with a salary raise, too. I’m sure that’s a factor as well.”
“And third, I think Bill’s just trying to wait it out until he gets tenure. To most academicians, tenure means that you have stability in your position. They can’t fire you without a real serious reason, and, even then, it’s a hassle. Maybe Bill thinks that, with tenure, he won’t have to be under Roberts’ thumb as much. But, unfortunately, Bill underestimated Roberts.”
Amy paused, considering whether to say more or not. Hesitantly, she continued, “I think I know why Bill verbally attacked you today, Kate. Bill was up for tenure this year. He’s been preparing his documents for months. He told me he was worried that he wouldn’t get it because of his poor record of research productivity. So he went to Roberts to ask for his help and support since all the dirty jobs that he’s been doing for Roberts takes up a lot of his time and hampers his research. Bill seemed so pleased when he told me that Roberts told him not to worry about a thing. That he would back him up, and, in fact, he would personally go before the Promotion and Tenure Committee to speak on Bill’s behalf. With all the influence that Roberts has around here, Bill was pretty confident that the Committee would vote in his favor.”
“Well, yesterday was the P and M Committee meeting. I found out today that they turned down Bill’s tenure application, and he got the news this morning. I’m sure it hit him really hard. That’s why he’s in the mood he’s in.”
Wait a minute. Something’s not right here, I thought. I was confused. “I thought Roberts was supposed to go to the meeting and speak up for Bill?” I asked.
“He did go to the meeting,” Amy answered. “But not to speak up for Bill,” she said bitterly. “One of the Committee members told me that Roberts did just the opposite. He told them that Bill didn’t warrant tenure because he didn’t do enough to contribute to the Medical College or the Anatomy Department. And he pretty much pressured them into voting against tenure for Bill.”
“Oh my God!” said Kate. “Does Bill know that?”
“No, I don’t think so. He’d be devastated,” said Amy sadly. “And I hope he doesn’t find out, either.”
“Why would Roberts do something like that?” I was shocked. It would have been bad enough if the Committee had just turned Orrick’s tenure down, but for Roberts to double-cross him and betray him like that…
I could hear the anger and bitterness in Amy’s voice when she replied, “I don’t know. But he’s got a history of using people for his own personal gain, then stabbing them in the back.”
I knew immediately that she was talking about what had happened between Roberts and Richard Vaughn.
###
After lunch, I tried to work in my office, but I couldn’t get what I had heard out of my head. Why would Roberts do something like that to Bill? What did he have to gain? From what I could see in the short time I had been there, Bill did everything he was supposed to do. He was a Course Director, lecturer, lab instructor, Director of the Body Donation Program and morgue, and no telling what else. Granted, he wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world, but I didn’t think that would be reason enough for Roberts to do what he did. There had to be more to it than that.
Just before three, I headed down to the morgue to check the cadaver. Kyle was already there, but Ricky was nowhere in sight.
Kyle looked up as I walked in. “Hey. Everything looks good so far. Grab some gloves, and you better put on one of those smocks so you don’t mess up your clothes. We’re going to have to move the body around some to finish up.”
As I joined him over the cadaver, he said, “He’s still a little swollen, but that will continue to go down over time. What we’re going to do now is to take out the tube and tie off the carotid.”
He proceeded to show me how to remove the embalming tube from the cadaver’s neck.
“Just put the end in the sink and we’ll clean out the machine after we finish with the body.”
I did what he said and went back for more instructions.
“Now, cut me two pieces of that white twine over there. Each about ten to twelve inches long. We have to tie off the carotid artery so there won’t be any leakage from the embalming site.”
He grabbed the artery and tied a piece of the string tightly around it. “You tie it twice – one above and one below the injection site. And you have to make sure the knots are tight. I did the top one, now you do the bottom one.”
I picked up the artery and took the piece of string he held out for me. The artery felt thicker than before the body had been injected. It had already become saturated with the preservative. I could also feel the rigidity of the carotid walls, a sign indicative of plaque due to atherosclerosis. Not a surprising finding – the majority of older people had some plaque build-up in their arteries, some more than others, and the carotid artery was one of the most common, and most dangerous, sites where it happens. When it gets bad, it can restrict the flow of blood to the brain causing a stroke.
“Okay. Now comes the hard part,” Kyle said.
He went over to a large roll of thick, clear plastic hanging on a roller on the wall. It was actually a plastic sleeve about four feet wide.
“We have to put the cadaver in a plastic sleeve and tie off each end. Then we put it in one of the storage rooms down the hall.”
He was right. It was hard, messy work. After he cut the plastic sleeve to the right length, we had to maneuver the body into the sleeve, then tie each end with twine. The cadaver had been a pretty good size man, and we were dealing with a lot of dead weight – literally. I’m sure it would have been easier for Kyle if Ricky had been helping him instead of a small female helper like me, but we managed to get the cadaver bagged and on a gurney, ready to be moved.
“Good,” Kyle said. “Now let’s take it down to cooler Number One.”
As we wheeled the gurney into the cooler, Kyle pointed to a row of shelves along one of the walls. “Let’s put it on that self over there. Push the gurney over there so that we can just slide it and won’t have to lift it.”
Together we managed to move the cadaver onto the shelf. Even though the temperature in the cooler was only a little above freezing, I was sweating from all the physical activity. I had a new respect for Kyle and how hard he worked.
“Well, that’s about it,” he said. “All that’s left is to finish up the paperwork, and I’ll do that. If you need me to show you that, I can walk you through it some time. Why don’t you call it a day?”
“What about the gurney? Do you want me to put it somewhere?” I asked, hoping he’d say no, which he did.
“Thanks, Kyle. I learned a lot. I’ll guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I couldn’t wait to get out of there, get home, take off my smelly clothes, and take a long hot shower. It had been one hell of a day.