Al Reichle is something of a Renaissance man. He went from working in labor relations to being an airplane pilot. He plays the trumpet in two bands and has conducted a symphony. He's run marathons. He's in the highest class of radio operators (call sign KK9F). He's volunteered for a local animal shelter and hospice agency.
So perhaps it wasn't out of the ordinary that he decided to dissect human bodies at a local university campus, removing the skin and muscles so medical students could study the cadavers.
Reichle took part in the most recent cadaver prosection program at Indiana University Northwest in Gary. The program brings in students interested in medicine, health professionals and, like Reichle, regular citizens from around the Region and world to get a closer look at the human anatomy. It's the only program of its kind in the country that allows non-physicans and non-medical students to participate.
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"My whole life has been about accepting and conquering challenges," said Reichle, 66, of Valparaiso. "And prosection was an unexpectedly rewarding challenge."
Reichle was visiting IUN a few years ago when his friend, Pat Bankston, dean of the medical school campus, asked if he wanted to observe the prosection program. Reichle didn't know anything about it but was intrigued.
In the classroom, he saw people in lab coats working so intensely they didn't notice his presence. He passed by an exposed artificial knee. He witnessed a prosector removing a portion of a cadaver's collar bone.
"I was not at all put off by what I saw," he said. "In fact, the closer I observed, the less it was even apparent to me that these people were working on human cadavers. It all seemed like an exercise in knowledge."
Reichle was also stunned to learn that the people in the room were not medical students, and that some had no background in health care at all. Bankston asked him if he wanted to participate in a future program. He said yes.
A unique program
The program, directed by professor Ernest Talarico, is about much more than just dissecting bodies. It consists of six weeks of classroom lessons, four hours a week. At the first lecture, Reichle almost walked out.
"There was me, and about 50 20-somethings looking to bolster their resumes for medical school," he said. "At the break I walked up to Dr. Talarico and said, 'I don't belong in this room.' He said, 'It's not easy, but I trust you.' I figured if you don't want to drown you better learn how to swim."
So he immersed himself in gross anatomy. He spent hours at night studying, like he was suddenly back in college. "I rolled up my sleeves and decided I was going to do this, and I was going to do this well," he said.
Along the way, he learned about another unique aspect of the program: how it humanizes the anatomical donors, even involving their families. Known as the "Talarico protocol," the program identifies the bodies as "first patients," calling them by their names. The prosectors also communicate with the donors' loved ones, bringing them to IUN for a memorial service at the program's conclusion.
When a person chooses to donate her body to science, she is, upon death, immediately whisked away to be stored and prepared for dissection. So families don't get the typical sense of closure that happens after the death of a loved one. Through his "protocol," Talarico tries to provide that. He also believes in giving the utmost respect to people who bequeathed a huge gift to the medical profession.
Reichle got to know the family of his "first patient," an 18-year-old from Gary who died of heart failure. Before the teen's death, he requested that his body be donated to the program.
The prosectors also become like family as well. "We were a team," Reichle said. "These people were my colleagues, my co-workers, my friends."
Up for the challenge
He noted that the course wasn't easy. "This isn't like, 'What's connected to your left shoulder or your left arm?' No, this is more like, 'What innervates the distal side of your third digit?'" he said. "I was severely disadvantaged in there, but I'm stubborn."
Bankston said the experience was an "eye-opener" for Reichle, as it would be for any non-medical professional or student.
"Doctors are among the most respected professions, but sometimes they're criticized for things like not spending enough time with patients or personal interactions," Bankston said. "What Al learned is the tremendous amount of knowledge they have to have in order to be able to understand normal and abnormal stuff happening with the human body." Bankston said he's joked that Reichle is qualified now to be a "pretend doctor."
Reichle has even inspired his wife, Lynn, a retired dentist, to do the program later this year. She said she was initially surprised he wanted to do prosection but shouldn't have been, given his history.
"To talk about someone going into something 100 percent, it's more like 150 percent for him," she said. "I watched that when he decided to become a jet pilot. I saw him study then, too."
"Life is never boring for him," she said. "There's never a dull moment."
Reichle acknowledges the program isn't for everybody. It does, after all, involve opening up human bodies. But it can also be life-changing.
"Once you've studied this for six weeks, you're not looking at something that's creepy. You're looking at something beautiful," he said. "When you look at the perfection of how the whole system functions, it's kind of a spiritual experience, too. You realize this isn't all some accident. This is a creation. It's an overall very moving experience."