Skull in a Box

There are four topics for discussion this evening.
1. I need light to read.
2. I have a skull in a box.
3. I am not easily wigged out.
4. Those eyes.

My reading light got fried a while back after I mistakenly plugged it into the 220V outlet. It was one of those moments that right before I put the adapted prongs in those holes, deep down, I knew something wasn't quite right. Kind of like putting a cell phone in the freezer. The whole lamp jolted, I heard a big pop, and the room went dark. I was lightless. No reading = bad bad medical student.

So, we have been trying to find me a simple desk lamp for weeks now. Maybe all Grenadians have great eyes, but I have problems reading without direct light. There is no Target here. It takes a while to figure out who would sell a desk lamp. Furniture stores don't have them, the hardware store sells Chinese paper lanterns, but no simple table lamps. We finally found one in a kiosk in the mall selling plasma screen TVs. Here, have a TV the size of your wall, but if that doesn't give off enough light, then here is a puny little lamp too.

The osteology of the skull is very important in head and neck. The skull is amazingly complex with a plethora of foramina, many bones, grooves for nerves, fissures, and features. To aid in our knowledge of these structures, we can check out skulls overnight to study them close-up. I met one of my lab partners in the library and she gave me the box to take home. I was surprised at how little the actual skull is after taking off all the muscles, skin, and connective tissue. It was an adult head too. The boys were very intrigued and I spent a good 7 minutes with their undivided attention which is light years in littleboytime. We put the boys to bed and the hubby had hit the sack.

In the wee hours, I was on my own with a skull on my kitchen table.

Ah, on to the wigging out. I think you can see the set up here.

I was happily going through all the structures, looking up each one in my Netters Atlas, trying to find it on my specimen, and drawing pictures, which I have found, really helps me to learn better. I had my trusty new light on, the only one on at the time when the storm came up. Caribbean storms are really crazy. They come out of nowhere and just pound the pavement for 10 minutes and then they're gone and everything dries up and you wouldn't even know it rained unless you had been standing in it.

The storm was picking up steam, the windows were open so all the drapes were flying around, and one of them flicked my arm. It startled me, so I bolted in my seat and just as I did that, I knocked the light a little so it was behind the skull. So, here I am with the wind blowing in the windows, pitch black outside, a backlit skull on my kitchen table with glowing eyes, when I hear the velociraptor (aka Owl) from Jurassic Park just outside my window.

SCREEEEEEEEEECH.

I swear even the skull jumped.

I guess there is something so personal about handling someone's head. In lab today, we did the face. Some have eyes, some don't, some have perfectly intact noses and ears, some are cut in half. There is still a little makeup on the ladies and their hair is combed. The men have stubble on their faces. I know I am looking into the eyes of a person who is no longer there. Yet, I can see how they looked at their children and their grandchildren. I can imagine they had parties and laughed with their families and I am seeing those eyes, not the person who is laying on the table before me, cut open, muscles and nerves exposed, eyes with no soul. I am seeing those eyes that showed love, humor, compassion, and life. I respect those eyes and what they represent. What a gift these people have made, as they are my first patients. As a physician, I will do my best to honor what they have given me.