The surgeon poured himself a Scotch and took a heavy hit, savoring the warmth of the liquid as it bloomed inside. Topping off his glass, he headed into the basement and flicked on the overhead lights.
The transition from darkness to light was jarring, and he blinked repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the brightness of the space. When he eventually did, he smiled at the skeletons on display.
These were the remains of the mistakes he had made, now served up as death on display. They served as reminders and as a promise to himself to do better.
This is a great concept, I can imagine a whole series like Dexter where a mortician goes a digs up fresh dead corps and rips their skeletons out.