Mom's Graduated from Yale

Written July 31...

Long before she was even diagnosed with cancer, my mother made her wishes clear, that she wanted to be an organ donor. Because of her cancer however, she could no longer be an organ donor, and being the forever generous woman that she was, she donated her body to Yale Medical School for anatomical research.

Not everyone has the luxury to plan out their wishes ahead of time, but in our mom's case, very little was going to go unplanned, terminal prognosis or not. She even had a document drafted by her atourney appointing me responsible for her remains. If she were still with us, she would have written, "Preparing for Your Death, 101." Because she was strong and thought of the unthinkable, we didn't have to make any decisions in the wake of losing her. I'd communicated with Yale Medical School ahead of time, she'd signed all their paperwork, and we'd even arranged for her "ride" through Carmon Funeral Home to Yale.

When I got the call last Friday that Yale was "ready for us to make arrangements" to pick her up, it was if she'd died all over again. I was devistated. I think somewhere in my head I'd let her go away on vacation for these last 7 months, but then all of a sudden, here she is again, and oh yeah, she's dead.

It was completely unexpected, both that they'd call so soon (they'd originally said anywhere between 6 months and 2 years), and that I fell apart all over again. It's hard to express what thoughts consumed me without coming accross grusome, but you must understand, I was responsible for every bump and bruise,  every calorie that went in, and knowing what came out. Taking care of her body was my life. And I just had the incredibly overwhelming desire to know exactly what they'd done with her, who worked with her, where she was kept, if everything was put back where it belonged. It's hard to admit, because I can only imagine how this can come as crazy, but I wanted to see her. I just felt like I had to see her. Just as I was always there when she came out of surgery, I just wanted to be the first person to hold her hand and say, "you did great Mom, you did great, it's all over now."

I called Carmon Funeral Home and was greated by their lovely receptionist, Erin, who knew me right away, and had me on the phone with John in a moment's time. You can imagine my embarrassment when I lost it. I'd talked to them countless times before she passed, and when they picked her up at McClean in December, they were greated by smiles, and cheers, and well-wishes. We tried to make my mom's death as positive as it could be, but somehow, in discussing plans to cremate her remains, the finality sunk my heart. He was, in only the way I can imagine a funeral home director can me, so kind and patient. He even entertained my questions about viewing her body with the most diplomatic and non-judgemental answer you could imagine, followed by a gentle but strong, "however I hightly discourage it." No kidding. What was I thinking?

In speaking with the director of the full body donation program at Yale, he was able to tell me that my mother was part of a full body anatomy class for first year medical students. She had 4 students, and proved to be a wonderful teacher. He expressed what a gift donations are, especially younger people, because it's rare that a donor isn't pushing triple digits. He also shared that the students had a memorial at the end of their semester, and each one shared an expression of thanks to their "teacher and donor" for allowing them to experience the human body first hand. And I was immediately put at ease...

Relenting control for these last 7 months was extremely difficult. In the beginning, I had urges to call Yale and ask what her status was. I had nightmares that she was scared and would wake up not knowing where she was, but I tried to stay strong and focused because I know that's what she would have wanted me to do.

And despite the hardship that came with the news that it was time for cremation, my unsettled fears turned to feelings of gratitude, that my mother was such a generous, strong, and giving teacher of these students. Professionally, I recognize that every life-saving procedure I participate in is directly impacted by the gifts of those who didn't survive.

Talk about the gift that keeps on giving.