Large doors open to a clinically bright room, and the harsh chemical smell of formaldehyde permeates the air.
A refrigerated unit spans the length of a wall, to hold containers of various sizes, labeled according to the organs and tissue each contains. Used dissection tools fill industrial-sized sinks.
Dissection tools are placed on a table in the gross anatomy class at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock.
Heavy, pitted tables are scattered throughout, some with human bodies inside.
Medical students have just finished their basic anatomy class, says Claude Lobstein, director of the Willed Bodies program at the Texas Tech Health Sciences Center (TTUHSC).
“When the bodies are donated, it’s not, like, for organ retrieval or anything of that nature,” he said. “It’s strictly for dissection purposes to learn the anatomy of the human body. This is kind of the basis of their medical education.”
The process of donating one’s body to science is simple: Donors fill out a one-page donation form and a personal data sheet, and their wishes are carried out when they die.
Claude Lobstein stands in the gross anatomy classroom at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock.
Lobstein recommends giving close family members a copy of the form as well. Most of the time, the family wants to carry out the wishes of the deceased, but occasionally the next of kin decides against donation.
“I have had a couple of cases where the body actually got to the school here, and due to some strife within the family, they decided to reclaim the body,” Lobstein said.
In other cases, relatives have donated the bodies of loved ones who died in intensive care at University Medical Center (UMC).
Once, a wife filled out paperwork for her husband when she had decided to disconnect him from a life-preserving machine. He had always wanted to donate his body to science after his death, but had never gotten around to filling out the paperwork, she told Lobstein.
Body parts are stored in a refrigeration unit at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock.
After the mandatory embalming process, which entails preservation of the remains with chemicals, the school may keep a particular body for two or three years. After their eventual use, bodies are cremated, and relatives can receive the ashes.
Cinnamon Magorno, a middle-aged Lubbockite who has been on the TTUHSC body donation list for about a year, said she has instructed her two children to dispose of her ashes within 30 days because she does not like the idea of her remains sitting on a mantle or being passed down through future generations.
Her wish to donate her body to science was spurred by a 1978 car accident, in which Magorno and her aunt suffered critical injuries and needed organ donations.
A cadaver dissection tank stands in the gross anatomy classroom at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock.
“While I was still in the hospital with my aunt, someone else was in a car accident and they were also waiting for their parts,” she said. “And, they didn’t get those parts.”
Because of this event 37 years ago, Magorno is not only donating her body to the school, but is also an organ donor and gives blood on a regular basis.
“My aunt and I walked out and the other person did not,” Magorno said. “So, I just made a point, you know, someone had given to me, so I will give back.”
Aside from traditional body donations, advancements in cryonics — the storage of human bodies at low temperatures — give hope to those who wish to be revived in the future. The study of cryonics differs from cryogenics, the science of producing extremely low temperatures.
A refrigeration unit preserves body parts at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock.
Shannon Vyff, 40, is a member of Alcor and the Cryonics Institute and board member for The Society of Venturism. She is signed up for cryonics, and her body will be preserved after her death.
“You’re donating your body to science,” the Bostonian said. “They have paperwork where some people will choose if they only want, I guess, their body used if they are sure to have full sentience, or if they just want their body used anyway that it will benefit science.”
The preserved are referred to as “patients” because the cells are in a living state in cryostasis, Vyff said. Before the process, an individual must be declared legally dead. The body is conserved shortly after death.
Plastic skeletons stand for reference in the gross anatomy class at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock.
Vyff originally became interested in the process when she had a high-risk pregnancy at 21.
She understands the odds of reanimation are slim. Based on her personal research, she estimates that if restoration ever becomes a possibility, it could be more than 500 years in the future.
“To me, I see it as only maybe a 1-percent chance of even working at all,” she said about cryonic awakening. “But I do think that there might be some use medically, or for science in the future, with the donation of my body.”
To those considering cryonics, the starting price of reserving a spot at the Cryonics Institute is $28,000. Alcor runs about $200,000 for full-body cryo-preservaton.
Sinks line the walls in the gross anatomy classroom at the Texas Tech Health Science Center in Lubbock. A sign in Latin below the clock reads “MORTUI VIVOS DOCENT,” which translates as “the dead teach the living.”
At the TTUHSC, Lobstein said the school has never lacked bodies for the anatomy class, and often sends cadavers to other schools that need them. Last year, 157 bodies were donated to the medical school; the year before—228.
“I think more people should donate,” Magorno said. “Those are future doctors, and if they don’t get practice in on dead people, they’re going to practice on live people. And I’d rather them practice on dead people.”
About Allison Terry
