From HeLa to the Great Woman

Okay. So, before I read this book, I noticed that there were about 8 pages of pictures right in the middle of the book (which, by the way, is like oasis in the desert) so I was like, "Cool! That can be my halfway mark!" It turns out, about a hundred of the back pages are full of acknowledgements, index, and afterwords... You get the point. Anyways, I am really glad I read this book. Other than the fact that I now know about HeLa cells, which I should know if I want to be a doctor (as it is very very well-known and appreciated in the medical field), I feel as though I got to know the family. I studied the picture to make sure I had the right person with the right name, and made sure I knew their characters. I don't know why, but I became so attached to all of the characters. I sympathized with them, and could understand their frustration. The author, Rebecca Skloot, really depicted the characters really well and made them likeable, even though there were many things in the book that would not be likeable in the real life.

One passage I found particularly striking was this:

"The dead woman's arms had been pulled up and back so that the pathologist could get at her chest...split down the middle and opened wide...greyish white tumor globules...filled the corpse...Strings of them ran over the surfaces of the liver, diaphragm, intestine, appendix, rectum, and heart..." (230)

This is in the scene where Deborah, daughter of Henrietta, finally gets to learn about the cause of her mother's death and actually hold the medical records. The author wrote how she couldn't breathe and control the streaming tears. I felt the same way and I visualized Henrietta's dead body with her famous red painted toe nails, and can't erase the picture of smiling researchers scraping her cells, thirsty for more. It truly illustrates how she wasn't respected as a dead human with care, but like those rats in the labs where humans are extracting information from them and tossing them out. I know that those scientists only meant good will, but I could finally see this horrifying scene through the eyes of Deborah. I think this was when I was truly able to comprehend her robust denial to Rebecca from asking any more questions about her mom. First of all, she didn't know a thing, and secondly, everything about her mom and other white people constantly pounding her with questions must have caused an immense stress. Just as the author realized in the beginning, it tore my heart to think that these are real people who have been abused by bunch of researchers, journalists, scientists, and doctors who have repeatedly ripped off of them and made their lives miserable by constantly lying. They have caused the family to worry about their own health, and not truly know about their dead mother. If it happened to me, I'm sure I would have reacted the same way. Why don't they just leave me alone? I don't think I could handle that much of an emotional outbreak.

You're lying,' Deborah yelled, flipping off my tape recorder and clenching her fists. 'I'm not, I swear, look, I'll say it on tape and you can sue me if I use it.' I clicked the recorder on, said into the mic that I wouldn't put that word in the book, then turned it off. 'You're lying!' she yelled again. She jumped off the bed... She started frantically stuffing papers into her canvas bag as I tried to explain myself and talk her down... 'Who you working for?' she snapped. 'John Hopkin?'" (283)

Without truly knowing the burden that Deborah has to carry as the daughter of Henrietta, this may come across as a little psychotic and questionable. However, I was surprised that I just felt bad for her to go through what she is going through. Personally, I was upset at the author, even though she was also a victim of Deborah's outbursts and anger, because of the way she presented the facts in her book. Though I know that the author is now very good friends with the family and that Deborah loved her (according to the book), I still feel as though some of the content could be taken out. Other than the previous story, I don't think it was very necessary to write about family crime history, when they are just cousins, or relatives of the cousins of Henrietta. It just gives a bad light to the family, who are just simply lost.

I think what made my emotions heighten even more is that in fiction, when a loveable character dies, it creates sorrow and I sometimes cry, but after a while, I am okay because the character is not real. However, after reminding myself again that this is non-fiction, I can't quite rid of the sorrow that Deborah passed away from her second stroke and the cruel death of Elsie Lacks (the oldest daughter who went to the mental hospital) and Henrietta. The ending wasn't quite satisfactory, but it was nice to have the author write an epilogue of everyone's situation. 

Henrietta, thank you for all you've done, and Rebecca, good job with the amount of patience and research that you've had to go through. T=

 Henrietta's Burial

 In memory of Henrietta...