She's a wonderfully entertaining writer: knowledgeable, witty, clever. And she's carved out a great niche for herself, focusing on one interesting facet of human life after another. A couple of years ago, I picked up her book Stiff, just because it seemed so outrageous and I wondered how much ~ and what ~ one could possibly write about cadavers. Well, I found out. And here's a tip: It is not bedtime reading. It is, however, a great read. Here's how it starts (CAUTION: NOT FOR THE FAINT-OF-HEART OR THE SQUEAMISH!):
1: A Head Is a Terrible Thing To Waste
Practicing Surgery on the Dead
The human head of the same approximate size and weight as a roaster chicken. I have never before had occasion to make the comparison, for never before today have I seen a head in a roasting pan. But here are forty of them, one per pan, resting face-up on what looks to be a small pet-food bowl. The heads are for plastic surgeons, two per head, to practice on. I'm observing a facial anatomy and face-lift refresher course, sponsored by a southern university medical center and led by a half-dozen of America's most sought-after face-lifters.
The heads have been put in roasting pans—which are of the disposable aluminum
variety—for the same reason chickens are put in roasting pans: to catch the drippings. Surgery, even surgery on the dead, is a tidy, orderly affair. Forty folding utility tables have been draped in lavender plastic cloths, and a roasting pan is centered on each. Skin hooks and retractors are set out with the pleasing precision of restaurant cutlery. The whole thing has the look of a catered reception. I mention to the young woman whose job is was to set up the seminar this morning that the lavender gives the room a cheery sort of Easter-party feeling. Her name is Theresa. She replies that lavender was chosen because it's a soothing color.
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