I read today that the British Medical Schools don’t have enough corpses, by at least a thousand a year.
The situation is seriously affecting the manual efficiency of future doctors. Volunteers welcome.
The artical reminded me again of my father who left this world a few years ago at the ripe old age of ninety one, cussing about the fool who called the ambulance.
His generation that had lived through two world wars had a very special humour.
I can remember him sitting one day in the lounge of the seniors’ residence in which he lived and shocking the women present by declaring that he was donating his body to medical science.
Not because he wanted to be noble,he just wanted to spare me the horrendous funeral expenses. That’s what he said anyway. Three years after death the institution that had profited by the donation would pick up the bill apparently.
Nobody thought he was serious except me , but he was of course, andI had to live with it.
He came from a medical profession and he knew what it all entailed.
The day before he died his friend visited him in hospital. The friend had survived Juno Beach back in 1944.
“What, are you still around.” he said.
“Yeah” said my Father and managed a laugh.
He was worried that they wouldn’t want him. He was too old he thought. In those days they had a choice.
I didn’t have to pay for the funeral.
If he were here today he would be looking for donors.