The message from these teachers has been consistent throughout the years:
“I’m no longer there so don’t be afraid to explore. I’m giving you this gift so that maybe, just maybe, what you learn will spare others from this suffering.”
Friday May 9th, 2025, was the last day of an intense journey that started on Saturday May 2nd, 2025. I was part of a group of health care providers eager to learn via one of the most reliable ways of studying our intricacies: full body dissection.
Not surprisingly, the week was demanding. There was the wealth and depth of the material, then there was the bombardment to all our sensory systems, and then the most challenging element of all—coping with the humanity of our silent teachers on the dissection gurneys.
Overall, this was my 6th dissection experience and the 3rd on unembalmed donors. Fresh dissection is now my preferred method because—unlike embalmed bodies—there’s no hiding the effects of many pathologies. They add complexity by making it laborious to reach and identify structures, or by making a solid structure fall apart as it reveals the brutality of what ailed it.
This was also the first time I’ve been shocked by what we found. The excessive accumulation of a vital element in one of our donors had virtually destroyed their body. Tumors, organ deformation, and growths had spread all over and devices had been implanted to keep them alive.
By the middle of the week, my mind had a hard time dealing with the findings. The only thing that I could think of was how intense their pain must have been. What thoughts were going through their mind while their compressed organs were deteriorating? Yet amid their suffering, they found the courage to give us the amazing gift of their body so we could study it.
“Maybe, just maybe, what you learn will spare others from this suffering,” was the message I kept hearing all night. Though I had heard it before, never had I felt it with such intensity.
That’s the nature of this humbling week. We appreciate it because it allows us to become better practitioners and humans. It fuels our fire, our passion, and our resolve.
I’m grateful to have been surrounded by so many caring and compassionate health care professionals during that week. We all supported each other as we acknowledged not only what we were learning, but also the aspects of our humanity awakened by the love, gratitude, and respect we felt for the donors.
Then there is immense gratitude for our instructors and support crew. Dr. Kyle Kusunose from the Jones Institute and Dr. Eryn Milian from the University of Miami. As impressive as their wealth of knowledge and experience are, what I admire and inspires me most is how they share it. Absent are hubris and hierarchy. Instead, there’s a direct line of communication, where you feel like you’re interacting with colleagues who will happily answer your questions, no matter how silly they may sound in your head.
And how could I forget the incredible Loretta Bliss, one of the wisest and most skilled Counterstrain Therapists I’ve yet met, not only producing beautiful dissections but also guiding us and providing us with support whenever we felt overwhelmed.
I can only imagine the immense amount of work that goes not only into arranging this incredible learning experience year after year, but also in making each event more remarkable. Time and time again it’s sobering to realize that no matter how much I learn, there’s still a lot more to learn and explore.
We all gave up time in our practices and with our loved ones to be there, but we also knew that what we were getting in return was priceless. I know my skills are going to reach new heights, and maybe, just maybe, stop the suffering and bring hope to many who thought their complex cases would never find relief.
Very much looking forward to returning next year.
Until next time, I wish you a joyous and pain-free life.
