Decapitated Heads, and their value in medical education

 
Article from The Milwaukee Journal, March 1992

    Halloween is a-coming, which brings to mind a personal story of decapitated heads.  

    One day in March 1992 as the ENT resident on-call, I was summoned to the emergency room for a poor woman who lost a large portion of her lower lip.  A victim of domestic violence, she said her boyfriend punched her in the stomach in a parking lot.  When she bent over in pain, he grapped both sides of her head and said, “I’m going to do a Jeffrey Dahmer trick,” as he bit a large chunk of her lower lip and spit it out. 

     As a first-year ENT resident, I was at a loss for what to do.  The police who later arrived at the scene could not find the lost lip.  So there she was in the ER with a large gaping wound exposing some of her lower teeth, no tissue to reattach, and a newbie resident scratching his head (figuratively of course).  I called the senior resident who advised me to clean the wound, admit her and start her on i.v. antibiotics (human bites can cause hideous infections), and we’d later find a way to reconstruct it (with an advancement flap or a “V”-shaped wedge excision, a techique used for lip cancersm followed by closing the wound in straight-line fashion).  I explained the plan and reassured her we could repair this as I dressed the wound and admitted her to the hospital.

     The following day the story appeared in The Milwaukee Journal, one of Wisconsin’s major newspapers.  The reporter included much of the above story along with the Jeffrey Dahmer reference but also added, “…victim will require major plastic surgery according to a doctor (me) who treated her at the Milwaukee County Medical Complex.”  I didn’t exactly say those words, but the senior resident, who clipped out the article, and the other residents on the team had a merry jokefest at my expense. 

* * *

     That prior summer in July 1991, the notorious serial killer, Jeffrey Dahmer was caught and arrested right there in Milwaukee.  In one of the most twisted mass-murder stories, his killing spray started over a decade and a half before, ultimately murdering 17 people in his lifetime.  His last victims were in Wisconsin.  Upon his arrest, police soon found seven decapitated heads in his Milwaukee apartment, not far from the Medical College of Wisconsin (the unofficial acronym is MCOW) and the county medical complex where we trained.

* * *

     Talk of disembodied heads has a significance beyond recanting a gory story in Milwaukee; it is relevant to doctor-traiing beyond the unique ER experience for one green resident.  Each year we ENT residents moseyed down to the gross anatomy lab at MCOW, that same place where I first encountered a cadaver.  Only this time, the cadavers had been fully dissected, the gross anatomy class had concluded for the year, and the med students no longer needed them.  Prior to the planned cremation of the remains, we harvested temporal bones—the hard bone on each side of the skull housing the ear and all of its complex inner structures.  Bringing dissection instruments including bone saws, we worked away on a Saturday morning cutting and sawing, sometimes with music playing in the background or humming the Wizard of Oz tune, “If I only had a brain...” 

     There is an educational purpose for all of this.  Our residency program had a lab devoted to temporal bone dissection.  The lab was equipped with high-speed drills designed for bone removal, fine surgical instruments, operating microscopes mounted on the bench-tops, and specialized metal devices designed to secure the temporal bone as we performed a mastoidectomy or a variety of ear surgeries, simulating what we’d actually do in surgery.  When time permitted, a few of us would meet in the lab on a Saturday or Sunday to practice these skills.

     Occasionally we’d have fresh cadevers for other surgical procedures.  In one hospital, I was encouraged to periodically visit the morgue and ask for permission to perform sinus surgery.  One day the pathologist stated he had a body, family consented to have it used for study prior to cremation.  On a Saturday I rolled the large tower containing the endoscopic and video equipment down to the morgue.  The Attending who encouraged me to do this also advised that while practicing the routine endoscopic procedures, I should also deliberately violate surgical boundaries; namely, do the things we weren’t suppose to do in real-life that lead to complications, such as dissecting through the skull base into brain or into the orbit containing the eye.  Surgical dissection on fresh tissue comes as close to live surgery, except for the absence of blood, which perhaps creates the most difficulty in actual surgery.  Yet actual human tissue is far superior than anatomic models made of artificial materials and is enormously beneficial for developng proper surgical skills and appreciating the nuances of anatomy that cannot be fully understood from textbooks or other simulated media.  Of course, most of our surgical skills came from operating on real patients under he auspices our attendings.

     Fresh heads were also valuable for the instruction of otolaryngologists already in practice, long after completing their residencies, especially for those who needed training in the newer endoscopic techniques (which nowadays are standard for sinus surgery).  Our chairman was one of several nationally reknowned academic otolaryngologists who toured the country teaching these newer techniques.  When the course was offered at MCOW, the residents were responsible for harvesting fresh heads from the morgue, and we stored them in a refrigerator in our temporal bone lab, eventually bringing them to one of the anatomy labs at the medical school for the weekend course.  As a “reward,” we residents were given one of the heads for our practice.  Endoscopes, surgical instruments and video monitors for each head were part of the course package, as the instructors guided the attendants through the proper surgical techniques. 

    Thoughts of Dahmer still trigger a queasy feeling even when I reflect upon it years later; the passage of time has not quelled my uneasy mind about that history.  And yet working on a cold head back in those days as a young resident did not elicit that same visceral reaction, and Dahmer rarely crossed my mind during those times.  This is yet another example of the mindset employed during medical education, where detachment naturally arises while deeply absorbed in worthwile work and study, all for a greater purpose..

©Randall S. Fong, M.D.

www.randallfong.com

For more topics on medicine, health and the weirdness of life in general, check out the rest of the blog site at  randallfong.blogspot.com


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