Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures Read Online Free PDF

early afternoon of an autumn day, a remnant of summer. They had enteredthe basement by an unmarked inner staircase, and then approached the lab through a plain, combination-locked door. There were fourteen dissection rooms, eight tables per room, three students assigned per table, checking the tags to find their cadaver, whispering and shuffling like white-coated ghosts in the basement anatomy lab. No windows. Instead, a dry fluorescent light flattened every surface.
    â€œYou want to go first?” asked Ming.
    â€œI don’t mind,” said Sri.
    â€œMe neither,” said Chen, holding the blade hesitantly between his thumb and second and third fingers.
    â€œWell, to me, it doesn’t matter,” said Ming. “What about you?” she asked, turning to Sri. When he paused, she said, “If it’s a problem for you I’ll start the cutting.”
    To Sri, Ming seemed both overly eager and fearful regarding the task, and Sri did not want their dissection to begin with this mix of emotions. Sri felt only fear, which he believed was a better way to begin this undertaking, and so he said, “I’ll start.” He gripped the blade handle firmly.
    â€œNot if you don’t want to,” said Chen, seeing Sri’s discomfort. “I can.”
    â€œI’ll start.” Sri shifted closer.
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    That morning, they had been briefed in the lecture theatre by Dean Cortina: “A few of you might be upset initially. You may temporarily excuse yourselves if necessary. In any case, I would rather you be a bit emotional than, shallwe say, overly cavalier. Keep in mind that distasteful incidents regarding cadavers have, in the past, resulted in expulsion.”
    She reminded them that there was to be no eating or drinking in the dissection rooms, although snacks could be consumed in the anatomy museum as long as it was kept tidy.
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    â€œI think it’s easier if you hold it like a pen,” said Ming. When Sri said nothing, she added, “All I’m saying is that if you hold it like a…. Well, never mind, suit yourself of course, it’s only that—”
    â€œJust let me do it,” said Sri. “Let me stand there.” He moved to stand where Ming was, without waiting for her to make way. She shifted, avoiding collision. Ming and Chen were quiet.
    Sri began to cut the cotton wrap, a stringy damp net, discoloured yellow in its folds. It smelled tough. First he cut downward like when you lean with the first finger on a boned meat. This dented it, but the fabric was swelling inwards instead of giving. He turned the scalpel upward, and lifted the edge of the fabric to slip the blade beneath it. He sawed back and forth, and the threads twisted when severed.
    â€œWhat about scissors?” whispered Chen.
    Dr. Harrison, their anatomy demonstrator, appeared at their table, congratulated them upon entering the study of medicine, and said, “This fine cadaver is your first patient. Dignity and decorum are crucial. Youmust be mindful of this gift you are given, and treat your patient nobly.” He paused. “Nobility. You may give him…or her?” Harrison checked the tag. “Ah, him, a name if you like. Or not. That’s up to you. No frivolous names. Questions? No? Very well. Continue, then.” All of this he managed to say with his hands crossed neatly in front of himself, and then he was at the next table, nodding seriously.
    The fabric now open, Ming took scissors and cut it wider in a quick, impatient motion, spreading the fabric up to the neck and then down to the navel. The damp skin of the cadaver’s chest was a shocking beige within the yellowed fabric.
    â€œThere,” said Ming.
    â€œAre you going to do it?” said Sri, not offering the scalpel. He hadn’t moved, and she had leaned across him to open the swath of cloth.
    â€œI was just trying to help, you know, get things going.”
    â€œI already said I’ll