Ed through bodies of massacred n but I’ve never been spooked by ad... it’s the living that terrify me
we hiked closer to the grave, our od grew sombre. his was a despicable place where peakable acts had been perpetrated he sport of barbaric men. he bodies were exhumed one by one m the mass grave. Remains that have n buried are likely to be better preserved – the temperature below ground is cooler, slowing decomposition, and they are protected from predators.
But sometimes their good condition makes them harder to deal with.
A two-year-old girl was laid out on the plastic in front of me, still dressed in her sleep suit and red wellingtons. My job was to undress her, to let police take the clothing for evidence and then to begin the anatomical survey, noting the wounds that devastated her tiny form.
Suddenly I sensed a blanket of silence had descended. I looked up and saw a line of police blocking me from view. One of our team had made the cardinal ADVICE
At work on bones from 1600s error of mentally transposing the face of his own young daughter on to the mutilated body of this little girl and was finding it difficult to cope.
So my colleagues were shielding him from the sight of the dead child. Without a word I walked behind the cordon of men and threw my arms around him until he had finished sobbing his heart out. When it comes to the appalling death of an innocent, someone has to shed tears.
Having chinks in your armour isn’t always a sign of weakness. It is often a sign of humanity.
One of the questions most frequently asked of forensic anthropologists is how we cope with what we have to see and do. I usually joke “large amounts of alcohol and illegal substances”. Gallows humour often dispels the tension.
Do I wake in the night sweating? Do I find it difficult to sleep? The answer is a rather boring and mundane no. I have never been spooked by the dead. It is the living who terrify me. The dead are much more predictable and co-operative.
So what about my own dying, death and being dead? The death and being dead bits hold no fear.
I actually feel a slight frisson of excitement at the possibilities of what is to come.
I’m no hero, though, so, like most people, I’d sooner skip through the “dying” part as quickly as possible.
I do, however, have some very definite plans for being dead.
I want my body put to full use for anatomical education and research and so I will bequeath my remains to a Scottish anatomy department.
My husband Tom is not happy. He doesn’t want me to be dissected. Despite being an anatomist himself, he’s