My mom has told me her entire life that she wants to donate her body to a medical school, after her death. She is now 91 and recently diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer. I have always intellectualized it, but I now keep waking up sobbing thinking about those students saying uncouth things and laughing. My H was one of those med students, and he told me stories about naming their cadavers and such. He said that helped him get through it, and that he learned a lot from it. But I am having trouble dealing with this more than any other end of life issue.