Chapter 28 #2
“It’s amazing! I can’t believe they have an exhibit on microbes.
You know microbes are such an important part of how we understand disease.
A lot of people think microbes are only single-celled, but the fact is there are multicellular and acellular and…
” I catch myself mid ramble, my mouth getting ahead of my brain.
Brady looks up at the building, admiring the architecture, and I notice the curve of his neck.
I remember when he finally agreed to go to a basketball game with me and looked up at the scoreboard.
I memorized that curve for the first time.
Things have not been great between us but he made sure there was time for me to visit here. He could have skipped it and gone back to the hotel, and considering how bad things have been I wouldn’t have blamed him. But he did this. He did this for me.
My heart is beating harder and I don’t know if it’s because of my appreciation for Brady or the fact that I see one of the posters advertising an exhibit on Vesalius vs. Galen and their competing understanding of anatomy. Fuck yeah.
“Thank you, Brady. This is going to be incredible. Do you want to start with…”
Brady walks back over to the car. “I’m heading back to the hotel.” He reaches for the door handle. Is he still mad at me? Has my behavior distanced him that much?
“Are you sure?” I ask, pleading with my eyes.
“Oh, yeah.” He nods. “You’re going to love this, but I know if I’m with you, you’ll want to make sure I’m having a good time. You can’t help that part of you, and I want you to experience this without having to take care of me. That’s all it is. I swear.”
The accuracy of his observation hits me. He sees right through me, through all of my bullshit. Maybe instead of running away from that intimacy I should start running toward it.
He opens the car door and turns back to me. “Oh, and I have a chocolate and cocoa butter body wrap appointment back at the hotel spa.” The corners of his mouth turn up. I can tell he’s glad to see how excited I am. He gets in the car and I watch him disappear around the corner.
I turn back to the building and enter the museum through the tall arched passageway. I know exactly where I want to start. I take out my notebook from my bag and clutch it in my hand. I follow the signs to the exhibit, and when I enter the first room I stop cold in my tracks.
An original medieval manuscript sits in a rectangular vitrine.
A spotlight shines on the worn yellow pages.
I take a small step closer so I can examine the detail.
I study the lines of the anatomical drawing and count the number of lobes in the liver.
Five. I search for other errors and find the jawbone divided into two parts when there is only one.
For centuries Galen’s drawings were considered the authority for Western medicine.
But he based his research on animals since the Roman Empire considered human dissection taboo.
A pig’s liver has five lobes but a human’s liver only has four.
The drawing is exquisitely done, carefully rendered and completely wrong.
I look up from the manuscript and turn to see images I recognize from various textbooks over the years mounted on the walls.
But they aren’t reproductions. They are the actual woodcuts from centuries ago that created the modern understanding of the body that I study every day.
During the Renaissance Andreas Vesalius wrote De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem based on human cadavers and was able to correct the misinformation based on pigs, dogs and chimps that had been considered truth for centuries.
There is an entire wall of images based on Vesalius with organs, skeletal outlines and circulatory systems on display.
I grab my notebook out of my bag and try to identify the areas of each image that I know and take note of the ones that need more studying. The exhibit displays dozens of images and each one contains an entire universe of new understanding and deeper knowledge. Correction after correction.
I sit down on a padded bench to massage the muscle between my thumb and index finger that’s sore from gripping my pen too tightly. I’ve lost track of time but my hand is telling me I need a break, so I sink into the seat.
From where I’m sitting the two sides of the exhibit are in view.
One area contains drawings from the ancient world to the beginning of the fifteenth century based on Galen’s work.
The other side displays Vesalius’ influence with accurate exactness.
The ancient world’s elegant mistakes and the Renaissance’s careful corrections. Centuries of assumed truth, revised.
Medicine advances because someone is always willing to look again. To question what we thought we knew was true and try it a different way. To risk being wrong in the service of a greater right.
Advancements in healthcare thrill me, so why can’t I embrace changes within myself?
I’ve been holding on to my ancient misconceptions about myself, about Brady, about what I think might be possible between us.
Am I stuck in the dark ages, only seeing versions of myself I created a long time ago?
Maybe it’s time to do what Brady is always asking, to step out of my comfort zone.
Maybe what I’ve been doing needs to be revised. Less Galen, more Vesalius.
I walk out of the museum and the grey clouds that have been above us for days have suddenly given way to gentle sunshine.
The poster for the exhibit I saw is mounted on the side of the building and for the first time I notice the name: “Revising Old Assumptions for New Possibilities.” Not a bad idea.