Morbidity and the Loss of Humanity in Death (Roach Reading#1)

In the introduction of Mary Roach's Stiff, she has taken the time to detail her own opinion on biological existence after death.  I must say that I share a common thought with her; I almost fail to understand why a person would ask to simply be buried or cremated.  Why not become nutrients for a tree, or dedicate yourself to some piece of immortality; to improve the lives of people who go on living?  The dissection or operation on my own deceased body would provide practice for future surgeons, and researchers would ascertain new information.  Or perhaps I could be of use to someone who needs some kind of transplant. If I died suddenly, I can't think of anything I would rather be used for.

All of this said, I have attended numerous funerals within the confines of my traditional family, and only one of my family members opted for any of the alternatives to a burial or cremation. Honestly, that was a decision my mother had to make for her brother.  He had not written a will, but even I know that donating whatever was usable after his trauma is something he would have wanted.  It's true, as Roach puts, that the things that cause the most pain after someone is gone has less to do with their body, and more to do with who they are. 

The first chapter of the novel is spent in a practice anatomy lab for plastic surgeons.  I'll admit, right now, that this is not something I would want to leave my body to. Roach also explains that skin that is not used for grafts may sometimes be used for operations involving the lengthening of a penis.  She may not be as explicit as I am, but that is the correct anatomical term.  It would be excellent if we could make a distinction between "science" and "cosmetic purposes" when donating our bodies.  A large part of the chapter is spent on dehumanizing the cadaver pieces.  It is difficult, even for the surgeons, to cut into a human face, to see a severed head, and to touch a human hand without some feeling.  Roach looks at the faces as Halloween masks, and the lab director thinks of them as wax.  When their humanity is gone, learning can take place.  Each person is essentially a functioning machine, running like clockwork (literally, if you understand the circadian rhythm) until something goes wrong, wears out, or becomes imbalanced.  The number of processes that occur at any one time in the human body is astounding; it's a veritable miracle that it exists in its own complexity. Finally, what a task it would be, to be trusted to fix the processes that go awry.

Truthfully, I believe that Roach exhibits a small amount of disrespect for the people (in chapter 1 and 3) that perform the tasks of dissection, research, and embalming of the deceased. It's clear enough that she respects the cadavers themselves, but I really think that the majority of surgeons who practice this, researchers, and embalmers, are due respect.  For most, and definitely the majority of the population in general, these jobs are difficult to perform.  However, people who are removed from the scenario demand that these studies and actions be taken.  Loved ones would like a visitation, or want their lost friend to be preserved.  When undergoing surgery, patients demand experienced surgeons (ideally).  Police forces would like new ways to uncover clues in murder scenarios; researchers yearn to understand the intricacies of human decomposition.  True, the methods to complete these objectives are ugly and derisive.  I found many parts of these excerpts horrifying (especially the nose-jaw sewing of the embalming process). But that does not negate the demand for such practices.