An Ode to My First Patient

I've officially finished my first semester of med. school and what a semester it has been! It has been the most demanding 4 months of my life: mentally, physically, and emotionally. I've entered a world that few, if I even, understand. A world that deals with the human body and embraces the workings of the soul. I would sum it up in a few short words, but I can't. The next few days will be spent in my own attempt at trying to assimilate and digest all that my mind and body have consumed since that first week of school in August.
The following was read by one of my lab partners at our cadaver memorial service honoring "Frank," my first patient. I couldn't have expressed it any better. Enjoy the insight into my new life and what I've experienced:

Two Lives (an ode to Frank)

by Andrew J. Lipman

Sometimes we wanted to know your name, but we gave you one.
I guess that means that you almost had two identities, really two lives:
One with your family, the other with your students.
Many will want to speak about your tremendous gift--and it is.
Others will want to extol the virtues of studying the human body.
I want to share with you some of my transgressions.
I would be lying if I said I always came to class...
Lying if I said at all times I kept you covered to protect your dignity...
Remiss if I did not mention that you made me nervous sometimes,
especially at the beginning of our relationship...
Did I sometimes fail to respect you as much as I should have? yes...
Was I ever angry with you? yes... Sometimes you hid things from me.
My teachers call that missing points on tests.
I call it not paying attention to you.
But, despite these transgressions, you won.
You did what you set out to do when you gave me your body.
William Carlos Williams said that
"in surgery, man sees what God never meant him to see."
His point is that very few of us have such a privilege.
I think it's the same with anatomy. Now, I can't go back.
I will always know what a human heart looks like. It's almost reflexive:
someone says an anatomic term and I can close my eyes and see it--in fact, I see yours.
But I guess I'm most amazed by your total trust in strangers.
There are so few examples of this trust to guide us anymore.
I think it would be presumptuous to think you trusted me, personally, because I could have been anyone.
Instead, you gave completely of yourself to all,
in hopes of teaching us a lesson about trust.
You have set a precedent with me. I've had my first intense relationship with a patient.
And that was you.