My memories of studying medicine in Russia include heavy grey winter skies, warm pirozhki in the freezing cold, and the choking odour of formalin-bathed cadavers in anatomy practicals. I remember vividly one cadaver we studied belonged to a lady.
The calf of her leg was striking. Without the skin, the exposed fibers of her muscles were beautifully preserved. I imagined her dancing ballet, sitting cross-legged, and taking long walks. Without the skin, she could have been anyone, of any race. She was human.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Save 30% OFF The Star Digital Access
Cancel anytime. Ad-free. Unlimited access with perks.
