for_science tender_square that what makes me emotional, he said, letting the words hang between them. she took the space as invitation: why do you think that is, she asked. because he’d been saying it since we were kids, that he wanted to donate his body to science, and i remember my brother and i saying you’re never going to die, dad. and he did it. what a wonderful gift, she said, to give your body to students studying medicine. so, it’ll be a little while, right? i thought i had read somewhere before that they give you the ashes afterward, she said. yeah, it’ll take about a year, he blinked back tears. i really respect the way he went, you know? he had dignity and he did it his way at home and he was surrounded by people who loved him. ninety-seven years, he said, and only bedridden in his final week. 220826 ... past visiting hours and conditions were strictly limited in the days before she died as the world held its breath during the sars outbreak. often what slots there were were taken by her second husband, who had already watched one wife slowly wither and die of cancer. we were still able to see her, perhaps because we came from out of town and not all together (we are too many for that to have worked anyways). i remember the masking, the mandatory temperature checks. things that were novel then, but familiar now. as she slowly faded, staring out across the lake, she talked of many things. of the "friends" who visited and filled her with joy (we later learned it was quakers doing community service), and of her desire to let her physical remains be donated to the nearby medical school once she was done with them. when the time came, and she left us, the doctors were kind, gentle, and direct. "she was peaceful in the end," they said, "and we know her wish but the cancer was too advanced and her bones and muscles too deteriorated." instead of going up the hill to the medical school, she went up the highway to the churchyard she spent much of her later years beautifying, laying in her final rest beside her first husband (my grandfather), my brother (her grandson), and a handful of empty plots still waiting her daughters. there is some comfort in her last wishes not being fulfilled. while in death, her body wasn't medically useful, in dying she answered the repeated questions of med students, nursing students, residents, nurses, and attendings in sequence with patience and grace. "it is annoying," she admitted, "but they are learning and they all ask so the teachers will make sure the students got all the information they need to treat me. let them experiment on me so they can help others in the future." if science didn't want her body, she still gave it her wisdom. 220827 ... epitome of incomprehensibility ...I conquered a fear. Okay, I reduced a fear. Okay, the driving impetus was more the $200 than the science. But also the facing-a-fear part. It was an experiment at Concordia's Loyola campus, something I'd said I'd do earlier. The study aimed to pinpoint differences in fat cells and glucose level (I think it was that) in fatter and thinner people. I was in the relatively thin group. But at first I balked at the blood-drawing part. ... It wasn't just anxiety, it was experience: I tried to donate blood at 18, but it made me too dizzy. Not that I'm particularly afraid of needles. The arm-prick didn't hurt like the finger-prick; everything seemed fine; but all of a sudden it felt like life itself was draining out of me. White spots clouded my vision and I sat up, exclaiming something. They stopped, saying I was pale as well. I cried when I asked if the half-filled bag could be used and they said no. Someone asked if it was important to me, if someone I loved had needed a blood transfusion, but I shook my head. No, I just felt weak and embarrassed. That I wasn't useful. I recovered quickly enough, but the memory stuck with me. So I never tried giving blood again. I'm over 50 kg now, so theoretically it shouldn't be dangerous, but...but. I hate feeling faint. But sometimes you have to have smaller amounts of blood removed. A couple of years later, I had a test for a vitamin deficiency (? don't remember; didn't have whatever it was) I felt faint while walking out of the room - white spots, dizzy feeling - so I got the attention of the nearest orderly. He ended up buying me a lemonade. With my money, but still. Like he didn't have other stuff to do! Another blood draw, clinic or Lakeshore hospital, something with a urine test afterwards. The technician told me not to close my eyes. "Cough," she instructed. "It'll stop you from feeling dizzy." I was angry at being distracted from my self-calming technique. Maybe that raised my blood pressure enough for me not to feel any effect. I ate an orange, because I'd had to skip breakfast beforehand, before going to pee in a little container. An experiment at McGill: researcher suggested lying down for the blood draw. There was a blood pressure cuff nearby. This time there were flowered sheets or maybe it was flowered wallpaper on the ceiling and I felt only slightly, elegantly weak, like a Victorian heroine. Sad_romantic, you know. The researcher was asking me questions. Then the blood pressure cuff: a bit low, rest a bit. A few minutes later: good, back to normal. Wisdom tooth removal. Not the time the surgeon had to pound around the curvy roots and it hurt like hell afterwards, but the time where it came out easy-peasy. The second time, a rush of blood - it couldn't have been much, but it made me momentarily dizzy. ... So this time, I heard that it would be five test tubes' worth - "less than 150 mL" - but that seemed like a lot and I asked not to. A lab technician, the one who'd just done a DEXA scan, was going to do the draw, but I chickened out. I told the post-doc student, "Can I just do the biopsy part of the experiment and not the blood draw?" She wasn't sure, she said. She said she'd need the doctor to see. An older man with what I thought was a French accent came in (his first language was Portuguese, he said). He had a reassuring manner, even in his third language. He explained some of the physiological mechanisms behind the dizzy feeling. He said that this amount of blood shouldn't be dangerous to take out, but my body might react as if something bad was happening, so the best thing was to be prepared and reduce that feeling. If I wanted to go ahead. So I decided yes, I can do this - 1) lying down 2) talking to people s) flexing the other arm so that I had some movement going (my idea, based on the coughing suggestion from before) So I was talking and joking around and I didn't really feel dizzy for that part. The other parts were a fat biopsy from the abdomen and the thigh, and then a muscle biopsy from lower down the leg. The needle for the last one was more painful, but there was local anesthesia, like at the dentist. Oh yes, and because it took a while, the post-doc made a biopsy playlist. We two got to add songs. "Rihanna's 'Umbrella'? Nostalgic for me, but if you find it annoying..." (Sometimes I find things nostalgic AND annoying, but anyway.) Oh sure, she went. The younger grad student who was helping with the lab came in while it was playing. "Oh, Rihanna!" she smiled. Added the singer was from Barbados, same country as her. Yay for getting fat and muscle cells taken out with needles. It was only when it was all done that I felt a bit light-headed, when the bed was getting raised up. So post-doc Claire left it partway up and said she'd wait while I devoured the apple juice and cookies I'd brought (this was also a "fast for 8 hours" aka skip-breakfast affair). When I left, my head still felt slightly achy and tired, but after some more food I was back to normal-tired. ... Back home? Teaching prep and walking the dog and Mom feeling too sick to go to the restaurant we'd planned to inhabit at 5. Shiloh getting loose in the backyard and me walking several blocks to buy ginger-ale because Mom is convinced it cures sore stomachs. A class with an education student who writes well but is pretty clueless about grammar - something she needs to know for her English test for teachers. Oh, and tutoring with a blanket covering both living-room windows because Dad thought trick-or-treaters would otherwise swarm our candy-less house. Kind of a weird_day, but hey, it's Halloween. I have decorative gauze in four places - spooky. And it rained only after the local kids got their trick-or-treating in. 241031 ... e_o_i ...I like how the number 3 turned into a lowercase "s" at one point. This was, of course, for science. 241031 what's it to you? who go blather from