Returning to Zion

When I was younger, I couldn't wait to get out of my hometown. For twenty-two years, I had never been away for longer than two weeks, and I hated that. Feelings of loathing, boredom, being trapped, and much more were constantly upon me. I couldn't help thinking that I was better than my hometown and that I could do better than the small town I lived in. It took me moving far away from home for a couple of years to realize that I actually love my hometown and the people who call it home.

Yesterday, I went out to lunch with a close friend. As I was driving to meet her, I drove past my elementary, middle, and high schools, the swimming pool, my university, and many restaurants and businesses that I used to frequent. Very few changes have been made, but you could still see a constant change to make a better, stronger community. It was fun to see my old stomping grounds and memories came flooding back to me. Most of them were happy memories, and some of them were not so happy memories. I remembered when my swimmers won multiple regional and state championships, my own swimming days where I trained many hours each day, walking up to seminary, my "freshmen fan club," falling in love with the human body in Mrs. A's class, my first crush, all the times I went sledding, the places I would go when I was sad and needed to cry, and some serious conversations I had with close friends. Memory after memory came back to me during my drive, and I am grateful that I have so many good memories from growing up.

When I arrived at the restaurant and saw my friend, I couldn't believe how much I missed her. It was so good to see her, catch up on our lives, and reminisce about swimming, friends, and shared experiences. During our lunch and my drive to and from the restaurant, I realized that I do love and miss my hometown. I'm grateful that I grew up in a place where I could be a kid and a place that allowed for a relatively easy transition into adulthood. My hometown helped shape me into the man that I am today through all of the good and bad experiences that I have had, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Letter to My Cadaver

Dear Dean,

I don't know what to say except for thank you. You have taught me so much about myself, anatomy, and the beauty of the human body. Also, you brought me and my five other labmates together. For all of this, I am eternally grateful that you would be so kind and willing to donate your body for my education.

I remember the first day that I met you. It was the first day of anatomy and it was a special moment for me, a moment I have looked forward to for many years. The excitement was high as I stood there in my scrubs and smock. Dr. Laitman was speaking to the class in the microphone, but I couldn’t pay attention. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally gave us permission to reveal your body. I looked down on your body. You were on your back and were pale, gray, and clammy. The stench of the preservatives wafted into my nostrils and filled the room. This was the first smell of the scent that I would come to hate. We prepared our tools as we waited for permission to start cutting into the skin on your back. The six of us each took turns cutting and removing the skin and fat from your back. As we removed the fat, we found your beautiful muscles. This was the first view of your stunning innards. We finished that day looking at most of the back muscles.

As the days and weeks progressed, we explored every inch of your body. We found and dissected your heart, lungs, liver, splanchnic nerves, brain, celiac trunk, Prince Saphenous the Great, tongue, kidneys with simple renal cysts, aorta, greater omentum, azygos vein, carina, your glorious GI tract, and so much more.

My favorite days that I spent with you were when we cut into your abdomen and discovered your GI tract. It was beautiful, yet challenging to work with and it pushed me to my limits. When we removed your rectus abdominis, it was magical to see your greater omentum. It was an apron of fat protecting your intestines from our view and mechanical damage. As we moved the omentum, your intestines were beautiful to behold. I loved holding your intestines in my hand, squishing the digested food, opening both the large and small intestines, and handling your haustra and epiploic appendages. But during the removal of your GI tract is when I almost threw up into you. We never found your appendix and the six of us agreed that you must have had it removed, even though we couldn't find a scar.

The days that we spent with you are special to me and I will cherish my memories from them. I will never forget you and all that you have taught me. Thank you again for letting me meet you and for letting me get to know you better than most of your friends and family.

Respectfully,
Sean