These days, I simply don’t feel like having suppers at all. I don’t know whether I’ve over pushed the boundary of my appetite or become devastated, sort of traumatized after watching the autopsy process.

A few days earlier, I asked for permission to take part in the autopsy because I was enormously curious about the procedure as a glimpse into the mysterious yet agnostic death. It was quite convenient since I was translating for the hospital research center.

After troublesome preparations, we finally came to the examination room, small and smelly. The minute we stepped into it, we saw the family mourning in grief. Some were looking blank and dumbfounded without even a blink of the eye. Others were sobbing, wiping off the tears while leaning on another’s shoulder. They were all dressed in black, the color of death, mystery and profoundness. They also caught sight of us in doc’s white outfit, with slight contempt and resentment in their eyes.

We turned around and went down the stairs to the operation room finally. After a while, two workers pushed a yellow bag in. From the shape, you could tell the corpse was in it. When it was unzipped, the first thing I saw was the dry skinny feet, then frail limbs, swelled belly, wrinkled face and gray hair.

After a while, the autopsy was started. The doc took a scalpel and cut open the belly with one smooth slide all the way down. The subcutaneous tissues were revealed and the orange red abdominal fluid splashed into the air due to the instant exposure. Some bowels also slipped outside the abdomen for the pressure relief all of a sudden.

Perhaps just as a friend of mine used to joke around that we were all cold-blooded bitches, lol, I didn’t feel nauseous, disgusted or dreadful. I simply stood there and watched, like a night porter or patrol squad member, like they were slicing a cow or a pig. When we were dead, we would’ve been no different from the animals, hell, we are animals after all. But I wasn’t numb, apathetic or anything. It’s just what it was, a dead body with rotten flesh and blood. If you’ve been there and done that, you’d be enlightened in such a vivid and surreal way that, all the fame, fortune, material possessions, utilitarian pursuits are void in essence. Everything comes to an end and the inevitable destination is to turn into dust and nutritional soil to fertilize the flowers of the next brand-new season. 

After dismembering all the organs, the doc put them in a line on the table and began to weigh them. It was sort of ridiculous and looked like a butcher measuring the weight of different chunks of meat. He told me to note down the numbers, so I did.

Spleen: 0.4 kg

Left kidney: 1.5 kg

Right kidney: 1.5 kg

…

I didn’t know how I, as a normal person alive, should react to the scenario of a dead, dismembered body. The organs were displayed and weighed one by one. A lively man talking, walking and laughing yesterday immediately transformed into this pile of obscene, lifeless organs. I was completely overwhelmed and my mind was too vacant to respond sensually or mentally.

I guess I’m having a relapse or concussion these days. The fragments and scenes of that autopsy frequently unfolded before me and reinforced my inaction, my nonresponse to the outside world. But the phase will pass though for sure. The journey of life will continue like a horse without yoke. Eventually, I will get over it and feel grateful for the unusual experience and beneficial lessons.