A man entered the lab and moved towards our group. He was sweating and fat, also very young. Our teacher that was teaching us grew submissive all of a sudden. He was called doctor and must've been studying medicine at the LAUTECH teaching hospital.
He watched as the second lady was dissecting and quickly collected the scalpel from her; he claimed she was holding it wrongly, and we all could see how she was experiencing difficulties with skinning, but unbeknownst to him, that was our first time dissecting without ever practicing.
He explained that a scalpel should be held using the thumb grip and middle finger, and the side of the palm should be rested to facilitate control.
Cutting out the sartorius, the muscle beneath was the rectus femoris; it gleamed with oil as I watched.
The class came to an end, and we all lined up to mark attendance before leaving, but my anxiety kicked hard, and I just tried to compose myself.
I don't have many people to talk with; I was lonely and alone at the same time. I take the known paved road towards the school gate, grateful to God I didn't faint in the lab, but thinking of it, it was anxiety that made me almost faint.
And I forgot to write how I questioned the morality/ethics of it all. Is it right to do that? Of course, I find no answer for that, which left me anxious, and I became anxious. I was anxious.
The day was Tuesday, but I don't keep dates to heart, not even important dates.
I really don't remember, but I think I prayed on getting home, for forgiveness for my guilt, and for Thanksgiving that I didn't faint or vomit in the lab.
There was an evening church program that takes place weekly, Tuesday and Thursday, but the last thing in the world I wanted to do was to attend, but I don't want the guilt mixed with anxiety of not going, so by five in the evening, fully ready, I choose to wait for some time to pass before going. I don't feel any belonging there, but I choose to go regardless. Twenty minutes pass inside the one-hour-thirty-minute church program, and then another conflict occurs: should I carry my Bible along or not? Well, anxiety was eating me up, but I decided to carry it, trying to make it as less visible as I could.
I reached the church; something in me doesn't belong there, but that same thing belongs nowhere, or it hasn't yet found where it belongs.
I sat at the ongoing service, was given a pamphlet to read, felt better, and was happy I attended, but later I felt worse and regretted going.
The feeling refuses to subside and eats at me into the night.
Then I couldn't bear it anymore; I decided to watch explicit content, which will give me relief. I don't need relief but redemption, but it feels out of reach; relief is always available for the pain.
I sincerely asked for forgiveness, but I know deep down I will return to my vomit. My sincere cry felt more like sincere falsehood, but I also said I won't do it again, but I did it less than an hour after my tears and repentance, and I did it again till I believed I would never be free from it.
But yes, I will always fall into whatever is giving me relief, and only redemption gives freedom, something I didn't know.
I slept off, maybe asking for forgiveness or too tired to ask. All I know is I feel too much, and my emotions are too heavy; I can't bear the weight alone.
Well, time passed with indifference to my feelings; my alarm rang, signalling a new dawn. I could only pray for forgiveness because all my feelings are translated to guilt for what I am.
Dressed up for class and prepared to face the cadaver for the second time.
The cadaver now has deflated, lost mass; the skin looks dry, and the muscles are now smaller. I walked towards another cadaver; her stomach was slit open, and her intestine was in view. Then my instinct, of course, gave her a name; I named her Mide. She was of little stature, and her hair was filled with sticks a, disheveled and assuming she died mad will most likely be the truth. Of course, I dislike staring at her opened stomach. By her left was another cadaver; his neck and larynx were all in view. I can't stand the open neck, and I won't give him a name because I'm not writing about him, and this is before the dissection for the day has begun.
and then Add to home screen.