Words

 

                                                                The Case For and Against Cadavers

 

Over the centuries, dissecting the human body has evolved from a criminal offence to a vehicle of mass entertainment to an initiation rite.

 

In the Middle Ages, human dissections were forbidden. In 17th-century Europe, medical school dissections were open to the public and often attracted unruly crowds cracking obscene jokes.

 

By the 20th century, dissection had become the exclusive purview of scientists and a mandatory rite of passage for all doctors.

The scandals reported this month involving the sale of donated cadavers at the University of California, Los Angeles, and Tulane University are simply the most recent in a field long beset by abuses.

 

In 18th- and early 19th-century America, the public repeatedly rioted against doctors and medical institutions accused of dishonouring the dead. In 1878, the body of U.S. senator John Scott Harrison (son of president William Henry Harrison) disappeared from its Cincinnati crypt, only to surface in the dissection laboratory of a local medical school.

 

Now, though, the place of dissection in medical education is changing in ways that have not been seen before.

The hours devoted to formal anatomy training are sharply down in U.S. medical schools and anatomy instructors are in short supply.

 

Computerized scans and 3-D re-creations of the human body provide cleaner, more colourful teaching tools than the time-consuming dissections of the past.

 

Some educators say that dissection, as taught to medical students since the Renaissance, is on its way out. Others maintain it is becoming more important than ever, not only for teaching the structure of the human body but also for the more subtle lessons it can impart on the meaning of being a doctor.

 

"It is always difficult to decide how much anatomy should be learned by a doctor," says Dr. Frank Gonzalez-Crussi, a retired pathologist in Chicago who has written extensively on the history and philosophy of human dissection.

 

Much of the traditional anatomy curriculum is irrelevant to medical practice and might easily be eliminated, Gonzalez-Crussi says, but there is still no substitute for dissection, which forces the student, willy-nilly, to confront human mortality.

 

Through the mid-20th century, medical students typically spent hundreds of hours dissecting. Working in small groups with scalpels and scissors, they would tease out every major structure in the body, including tendons, arteries and nerves, memorizing dozens of tortuous pathways and hundreds of Latin names in the process.

 

But as the focus of medical science continues shifting from whole organs to cells and molecules, more and more teaching hours are consumed by molecular biology and genetics.

 

Surveys show that today's medical students may spend more than 80 per cent less time in dissections than did students in the 1950s. Anatomy faculty members are aging, professors say, and fewer classically trained graduate students are available to replace them.

 

A shortage of donated cadavers is not the big problem: Most medical schools receive enough to meet their teaching needs. But startling new discoveries in anatomy are uncommon and money for research is sparse.

 

Still, anatomical research continues to have practical applications — in the design of new implants or prosthetic devices, for example.

 

To supplement dissections, medical schools now routinely use computer-based tools, most often CT and MRI scans of living patients. Some programs take advantage of the National Library of Medicine's Visible Human Project, which provides radiological scans and actual digitalized photographs of cross-sections of a male and female cadaver.

 

Computer-generated models — like one program that gives the viewer the illusion of flying through the nooks and crannies of a human skull — can clarify tiny, convoluted anatomical structures in a way that actual preserved specimens cannot.

 

Some schools now pare down anatomy courses by sparing students all hands-on contact with a cadaver. Students learn anatomy by inspecting structures in cadavers that have already been dissected by an instructor.

 

Studies have shown that students who learn anatomy from professionally prepared dissections, called prosections, perform about as well on standardized tests as those who do the dissection themselves.

 

But anatomists bristle at any suggestion that either prosections or computer models will make them obsolete.

 

"There are some excellent computer-based resources, but they are not a replacement for the cadaver," says Dr. Todd Olson, a professor of anatomy at Albert Einstein College of Medicine in New York.

 

Dr. Carol Scott-Conner, a professor of surgery at the University of Iowa and president of the American Association of Clinical Anatomists, maintains that actively participating in a dissection is a better way to learn than looking at an exhibit or a computer screen.

 

While she won't say that every medical student "needs an intensive anatomy course," she insists that "everybody needs to learn anatomy."

 

Even when the details of anatomy and the Latin names fade from a doctor's memory, memories of the experience remain vivid, she says.

 

Further, drawings and models ignore the huge variability in human anatomy, in which duplicated, misshapen or aberrant structures are common.

 

Students who spend time searching for an important nerve or a blood vessel that surfaces nowhere near where it is supposed to be learn a hands-on lesson about the huge range of "normal" in medicine.

 

Anatomists also emphasize that working with a cadaver elicits a sense of reverence that pictures and models do not.

Medical attitudes toward human specimens have varied over the years.

 

Apocryphal stories from the 19th and early 20th centuries describe medical students jumping rope with the intestines of cadavers and playing lewd practical jokes with cadavers' genitalia.

 

As recently as 30 years ago, medical students who expressed any fear or squeamishness about human dissection were often told they were "weak" and in the wrong field, Olson notes.

 

But now, he says, schools uniformly encourage students to work through their emotions and appreciate the gravity of the proceedings.

 

At Yale University, practising doctors periodically visit the first-year anatomy course to describe some of their dying patients to medical students and talk about the doctor's role in dealing with terminal illness and death.

 

"In medicine now, there's a big emphasis on teaching students professionalism," says Dr. Lawrence Rizzolo, director of the Yale course.

 

"In anatomy, we begin the discussion — how the student will function as a professional, learning how to react to an uncomfortable situation, facing death and dying.

 

"We get them in touch with their feelings."

 

When the course ends, the Yale students thank their donors, as they call the cadavers, in a ceremony that includes original poems and musical compositions.

 

Every first-year student attends, Rizzolo says, and the service has come to celebrate not only the rite of passage of the anatomy course but also the students' immersion in medicine.