One Cat, One Liver

Friday evenings tend to be either exhilarating or mundanely indicative of a weekend of homework. Nonetheless, tonight would classify as exhilarating.

One of my friends is a biology major. She is highly intuitive and deliberately thoughtful in her continual quest for knowledge. Tonight, she superseded the realm of normal by enticing myself and another cohort to accomplish a dangerous, smelly mission in order to obtain one thing: a liver.

Our options were as follows: recent roadkill that was preserved enough for dissection, a live animal from a pet store to be sacrificed for science (ethical questionability was noted), or human biopsy (most likely living). The most cost-efficient and practical method was to find roadkill, which is seemingly not a complicated issue in Midwest America.

So, tonight, we embarked via vehicle onto the freeways and byways of central Indiana in search of recent roadkill. Within five minutes of our travel, we saw several options. However, it was my keen sense of sight which ultimately led us to the perfect specimen: a deceased cat, later named Mocha, preserved outside a home along a state highway, wet from previous day's rain, but in great condition for dissection and extraction of a liver.

As is custom in America, the man, myself, allowed my two fellow female colleagues to have the pleasure and opportunity to retrieve Mocha from the ditch with trash bags and latex gloves. Quick retrieval and a steady foot to the pedal led us back to the science facilities available to us for the dissection of Mocha.

Upon the arrival of said biology major's lab partner, we (they) proceeded to remove the cat from the trash bags only to discover a plethora of maggots, roaches, lice, and various other infectious creatures. At this point, I was safely on the other side of the room with an abundant amount of paper towel in my nostrils as not to smell the rotting carcass.

A quick decision making process led us to move the laboratory surgery outside of the facilities with fresh evening air and a perfect sidewalk for infectious insects to run away. Within ten minutes, surgery was underway; scalpel to skin, scissors to ribs, and tweezers to greater omentum. The liver was found beneath the diaphragm (where it normally is) and all four lobes were successfully excised with a small presence of maggot inhabitation.

After cleaning up the surgery "room" and equipment, the liver biopsy was placed in a protective tupperware container and placed in freezing conditions for later analysis.

Friday evenings tend to surprise you in many ways. Mocha surprised me tonight. I'm sure we surprised her too. There is great joy in surprises. God continues to surprise me everyday by what He's teaching me and those around me. "Be still and know that I am God." Perhaps we just need to be still before Him, trust Him, and take time to see what He's doing. I think that doing so will surprise us. And that will bring us joy, which we will hold onto until our faith is sight.

Whether you dissect a cat (RIP Mocha) or study organic chemistry, Friday nights will surprise you. Be willing to cherish those surprises.