Adios Motherfucker

Hello again!  Needless to say I've been extremely busy, and quite frankly, tired from working a lot and getting very few nights of regular sleep.  Believe me there have been a lot going on with me and choosing sleep over blogging hasn't been too difficult.  Nonetheless, I apologize for all the loyal readers who click on my little piece of cyberspace on a regular basis.  Let's jump right in, shall we?

Recently a mother gave birth to a girl who had placenta covering her face.  Surgeons couldn't save her.  The mom did not let go of her daughter and refused to let her go to the morgue.  Next day I was dispatched to meet the mom and dad and the nursing supervisor at the hospital chapel for the pick up.  So I went and waited a while.  Down came the mom carrying her girl and the NS had a makeshift box for the baby.  Both mom and dad cried while I held the door open on this windy day.  I told them that we'll take good care of their precious girl, but I don't think they heard me.  Once back in the prep room, the baby had on a tiny little white dress, shoes, a little white cap and was covered with an embroidered blanket that read, "Mommy and Daddy's Little Angel" and her name.  Fucking sad, although I have to admit that I don't get emotional as much as I used to on this job.  But...

Last month there was a tall, young guy who died.  How he died I don't know.  He was placed in a cardboard insert in a rental casket.  Families often rent caskets when their loved one will be cremated.  You can also buy a nice wooden casket and cremate the whole thing, but that is very expensive.  With cost of burials being so high, most families can only afford cremations.  After his service, I prepared to take the insert out of the rental.  I noticed cards and pictures that family members put on top of the young man.  One was a card from his grandmother.  Two hand drawn cards from nieces, and one from his parents.  I read the cards and saw pictures of this kid and I started to tear up.  I caught myself and wondered why I was getting emotional when I see these things everyday.

Also last month the Asst. and I went to a hotel.  A middle aged man collapsed on the floor.  He was huge, big boned and thick all around.  The police was there and the Asst. asked me if I wanted to do this, as opposed to dispatching a third party removal service.  I said let's do it, sounds interesting.  With his family in the next room peeking at us, we collapsed the gurney next to him and with all our might we lifted him onto it.  The Asst. and I have been doing calls together for over a year now and we don't really need to talk while moving bodies;  we have a nice efficient flow.  When we came back to the mortuary, we discovered the man had a large amount of cash in his pocket.  Over a thousand dollars, in fact;  apparently the family was on vacation.  We did the right thing and called the family's contact and returned the money.  Turns out this guy was in law enforcement and the family thanked the Asst. while I watched from the van.

Since the last blog entry, our lovely prep room manager left the company to live and work in Hawaii.  Her replacement is another old timer who just doesn't bring the same bright energy to work like she did.  We all miss her and we're glad she's happy where she's at.  I'll be taking a vacation soon and guess where I'm going?  (cue the luau music).  It will be nice to get away from here and snorkel everyday and hang out with her.  Also to hang out with a good buddy and his girlfriend and their son whom I've yet to meet.  Can't wait.

I went to a disinterment with the new manager at a sister cemetery.  A priest was being exhumed for cremation, and my guess is that the family is selling the plot for whatever reason.  The priest had been buried for six years.  Once the casket vault was unsealed, the smell was different than anything I've smelled before.  I've smelled all kinds of shit on this job but this smell was deep and complex, and yet interesting at the same time.  The body had been embalmed and the wooden casket held up remarkably well.  We lifted it into the van and off we went, windows rolled down.  This stench was deep and overwhelming inside and it made me cough.  The new manager told me that there is nothing like the smell of a decomposing human.

We drove directly to the crematory and popped open the lid.  The priest looked like he was buried yesterday, his skin and makeup were pristine, with only small spots of fungus on his nose.  He had on his priest robe and I was amazed at how fresh he looked, like he was just sleeping.  The stench was still strong when I went to lunch.  I had to prepare myself to reenter the van after eating a huge calzone.  Even after airing out the van the stench did not go away.  WTF?  I decided to sweep out the cargo tray of dirt and discovered the cause:  A glove of one of the pallbearers for the priest's service fell out after all these years.  I couldn't believe how a little glove can stink so bad.  The Asst. said he smelled it across the parking lot.

Recently I watched Saw 4 online.  The intro is a scene inside an autopsy room, and a body was being dissected.  I found the whole thing rather amusing, with the corny sound effects and all.

One morning The Asst. and I met up at a house.  Driving closer to the house I thought this street looked familiar.  It turned out to be the same house we had picked up from a month ago.  This time the wife passed away.  We sort of expected this since she wasn't doing too well when her husband died, but still it was odd for us to be back again so soon.  The house had some windy stairs and I mentioned that it's got to be easier this time, assuming the wife was lighter than the husband.  I was wrong.  The woman weighed twice as much and it took all the men in the family to help us move her down the stairs.  Once loaded into the van, the Asst. and I looked at each other, shaking out heads and being relieved that we won't be back here anytime soon.

Another time we went to a trailer park.  A woman died on the toilet mid-tinkle in her tiny bathroom, her granny panties around her ankles.  On another call we picked up an old man who collapsed face down on top of the nightstand.  He was fully dressed and had kicked off one shoe before kicking the bucket.  What is sad to us is when we visit poor families who had to endure financial hardship from taking care of their loved one and now must face more hardship in paying for services upon death.  Makes me believe life insurance is well worth it if you can afford it.

I've been getting funny looks from some of my newer neighbors in my apartment complex.  I guess they see the company van parked outside and lights on in my unit all night (I have a habit of falling asleep with the lights on).  I smile at them in the parking lot but they just pass by looking at me all weird.  What's up with that?  

All At Once

It's been just over one year since I started this line of work of moving dead people.  I wasn't sure if I could last one month when I started, but here we are.  What a year, what I've seen and what changes I've noticed about myself.  Now I can stand next to a body and eat anything, even spaghetti with meatballs (not that I've done that, but I know I could).  I wonder what friends notice about me.

It's been very busy at work, and with the holidays and all I haven't found time to blog.  But I'm back, with much to write about, hence the title that describes my blogging style while paying tribute to Whitney Houston with my favorite ballad from her.  RIP.

The other night I had a disturbing dream.  I guess I would qualify it as a nightmare.  I was working at a funeral home, unlike the one I am at now, and they were discovering body parts dangling from chains in the walls and ceilings.  Many chains, many skulls.  Some were cobwebbed but some were much fresher.  The police had come by.  I was walking up the stairs past all the chains and it looked like a horror movie set.  Just as I got upstairs, the ceiling cracked open and down came another chain.  This one was still bloody and the red skull had eyes in them, like it was just killed.  This freaked the hell out of me.  I then woke up and couldn't go back to sleep.

I tried to analyze why I had a scary dream.  I rarely have bad dreams, at least not bad enough to remember vividly.  I wonder if the bars I went to with friends last night had anything to do with it.  Some bars just have a bad vibe, and although I have visited these bars before my gut feeling last night was strongly negative.  I kept wondering why that was.  Was it the odd looks on people's faces or just my own mood?  Perhaps both.

Anyway...

I went to the nursing home I used to drive for to pick up an on lady who had passed.  This was my second time back on this job, but the first time was late at night so I didn't see anyone I knew.  But this time was in the late morning, a busy time for a nursing home.  I said hello to everyone I worked with and it was nice to see them, except for this one nasty bitch who doesn't do much of anything.  I went to say hello to an old lady I used to drive around town while blasting the classical music.  She looked the same and she was happy to see me and we chatted briefly about the nice drives we've had.  I visited another patient, a young quadriplegic woman with a real zest for life and we chatted also.  It was nice to be back.

Pulling in the gurney into the decedent's room, I realized the roommate was also another woman I've driven around.  She was bedridden and recovering from a physical setback.  I was saddened to see her in this state. We talked a bit but she was tired so I went back to the task.  The dead old lady was rather heavy.  Leaving through the back exit of the facility I ran into more people I knew.  The look on their faces was something.

There have been many suicide cases coming through the prep room.  Couple of high profile murder-suicides also, but I won't go into details as that may give away where I work.

At least a couple of cases were gunshot suicides in the chest.  One guy blew half his head off with a large caliber handgun.  The hole on his head was absolutely massive.  An embalmer stitched him up and his head looked like a giant softball.  This stitching style is called Baseball Stitch, since the technique is identical to that of making a baseball.  I made the gesture of grabbing his head and throwing a curveball to which the old ex-pro baseball player embalmer found amusing.

Last month I drove to central California to pick up a case from a sister mortuary.  The drive took six hours each way but I loved it, I wouldn't mind doing long hauls everyday.  The embalmers up there were even older than the oldtimers in our crew.  I mean they looked like 80+ years old.  And they do things slowly, not like us who are accustomed to doing things quickly.

One day at ME they brought out a giant blue body bag on a table.  I thought this couldn't be a body, but it was.  450lb. and then some.  It was absolutely huge.  Seeing another driver load it into his van was surreal.  I asked if this was the biggest body they'd seen.  Everyone said they've seen bigger, like a 750lb. body a while back.  I hope I don't get assignments like that.

On another night call, the Asst. and I went to a house where an old lady died.  Inside, the place was like a little castle, with marble floor and fancy paintings and sculptures.  The family was Sicilian and some elder family members looked as if they stepped off the set of The Sopranos.  Preparing to move the body down the stairs, the Asst. and I agreed that we better not drop this one no matter what, just in case these people have ties to the mob.  That may be a blatant stereotype but why take chances?  We've never dropped anyone but we were extra careful with this one.

Still another night, another old lady passed in her house in a nice inland area.  This was by far the nicest house I've ever made a scoop in, and considering the many nice houses in this part of state that's really saying something.  Twin staircases, marble all around, a very expensive acoustic/electric piano, chandelier, and sculptures even bigger then the other house.  The obviously affluent son, who seemed distant, was eager to get this over with.  Just then his uber-hott trophy wife came in, in heels and a sexy black cocktail dress.  We both stared at her a little too long, seeing her crying her eyes out over her mother in-law.

"Oh God!" she kept crying, balling uncontrollably.  "I've been drinking vodka since that was her favorite drink."  We saw her grab her giant glass of vodka and take another swig, her ample chest rising as she stopped to take a breath.

Well, that explains it.  I've seen people get hammered when their loved one pass away.  In fact, on the very first night call the Asst. and I did everyone was drinking tequila and beer, getting absolutely shit-faced.  And this broad was already lit up.  But what can we say?

We moved the old lady off her super-king sized bed and carried her in our arms down the marble stairs to the gurney.  The WILF started crying hysterically so we just went outside and waited.  After a while we decided to leave, but as soon as I turned on the van, both came outside.  The son walked up to me on the driver's side and shook my hand and thanked us.  You're welcome sir.  Then his wife shook my hand and held it for a while, staring at me.  That was awkward, with her husband watching and all.  On the way back, the Asst. asked me what if the wife was there all alone.  I replied that I was thinking the same thing...

Lately we've picked up several old men off the floor of their homes, dying suddenly from heart attacks and what not.  One old man fell as he stood up from the toilet, another lying in the middle of the kitchen, and yet another next to his bed.  It's almost always men who seem to die suddenly like this.

Tonight the Asst. and I went to a nursing home after a house call.  On the way up in the elevator he got another call about another pick up--in the same nursing home.  We call this the Daily Double.  He said he's done a Daily Triple only one time.

See you soon...

Today I went to the ME to pick up a young woman who apparently died after sex and drugs with a date.  The guys at ME know me well enough to fill me in on these things now, and I think that's very cool.  The date, needless to say, is under investigation, and I'm sure he's shitting bricks no matter what really happened.

Last week another driver and I went to the ME.  While waiting for property of a decedent, a medical investigator knocked on the door to one of the offices in the lobby where a man was apparently discussing matters of a loved one who died.  The man was upset for being disturbed at such a time by the investigator.

The investigator, calm and polite, said that he is sorry, and that it was his regret to tell the man that his son was killed by a car while walking to school that morning.  In disbelief, the man asked how he knew it was his son.  The investigator told him that they recovered his son's backpack and his ID matched.

Just then the clerk at the window shouted to us through the bulletproof glass that there was no property for us, so we quietly walked out, leaving this heavy conversation.  Both of us were stunned by what we just witnessed.  Families tell us all the time how hard our jobs must be;  I think the guy delivering the bad news has it harder.

I need to blog more frequently.  It's very difficult to remember a month's work.

One that comes to mind is a nursing home call I went to late one night.  An old man in a darkened facility.  The nurse showed me the way and I asked if I can just wrap him up in the bed sheets and take everything with me (this is a common procedure;  it just saves time).  The nurse said yes, take it all and the bad energy out.  Asked about the bad energy, the nurse replied that she's seen ghosts at the home and she's spooked.  I asked her whether the old man who just died was a nice man.  He was, she said, so I told her that I didn't think you need to worry about him.

I asked how long she's been doing this and she said three years.  I told her that in almost a year I've yet to see or hear anything.  She went on to tell me about a little red-headed girl ghost and how the residents also talk to this girl.  I asked that if she is so spooked why not find another job, and she just said that she has to pay the bills.  She told me that when she first started she wanted to find out whether these things were true and now she believes.  She also seemed eager to see me go so I left quickly.

I then drove to a hospice, thinking about what the nurse said.  Perhaps for my own sanity, I concluded that one's attitude towards these things plays a big role, and mine is that whether there are ghosts or not is not up to me, and that what is is just is.

One time I had a dream that I was on a house call, and a grandma who died started moving and came back to life.  The family was freaking out but I was happy for everyone since granny wasn't dead after all.  What that says about me I don't know.

The cooler is completely full and then some now, with bodies on tables taking up all the floor space inside.  There must be 80 bodies in there plus about 20 embalmed bodies in the prep room.  It is officially the busy season for this industry.

Also today I stopped by my old place of work, a small private funeral home close to my home to pick up a body.  The greedy and socially inept owner came down to get the body out of his small cooler.  Nothing has changed there, except for yet another new driver who was packing creation boxes into the same old crappy van to drive up to the crematory out of town.  Poor bastard, little does he know.  A former office assistant from there told me that other than the lead driver, whom I still run into from time to time, and the little chihuahua bitch manager, everyone I knew there are all gone.  It's been seven months since I left, and being back, all I could think was how grateful I am to be where I am now.

The Asst. and I, running night calls, often see motorcyclists driving fast, weaving in and out of lanes (we call them donorcycles).  One zooms by and he'll say, "See you soon".  Another zooms by even faster, and he'll say, "See you very, very soon".  Jokingly we mutter to ourselves whenever old people stare at us pushing a body on a gurney down the hallways of their assisted living homes:  See you soon...

No one dies pretty

It's been getting busier in this business of taking care of the dead.  As predicted, more people have been dying as winter gets closer.  The cooler is now full and embalmers are busy everyday prepping bodies for services.

A firefighter (off duty) was run over by several cars when he stopped at a fender bender on the freeway.  Every part of his body was mangled, including his head, which was crushed and unrecognizable.  Bruises and scrapes all over, I just hope death was quick for him.

On a night call, the Asst. and I went to a house where an old man died in his bedroom.  The paramedics dragged him onto the floor and left him there, with tubes still stuck in his throat and blood all over his face.  The grieving wife wanted to see him one last time and the Asst. offered to clean him up a bit before she did.  It was the right decision, she and her granddaughter will have a better memory of grandpa for the rest of their lives.  Afterward, the Asst. bought ice cream for both of us, to cheer himself up after such an emotional ordeal.

I like the fact that we are always in serious and sometimes emotional situations.  I feel like we make a difference for the better in people's lives at tumultuous times.

Another first for me:  Pick up on scene of a suicide.  A Navy soldier had hung himself in his bedroom at the barracks on base.  By the time we got there, Navy police were cutting off the fan blade to which the rope was attached and the body was still dangling from it.  The fan was above the bed, so if he really didn't want to die, all the soldier had to do was stand up on his bed.  But from what I could tell, he wanted to die so he just leaned back sitting on his bed and that was that.  A young man in his 20s, we took him to the military hospital where he would be autopsied.

At the mortuary sometimes we could hear people cry over their loved ones in the viewing rooms.  One day a mother was absolutely wailing over her 21 year old son who apparently said he didn't feel well, so he laid down to rest and never woke up.  It was hard to listen to such cries so I went in the prep room to help the embalmers.

One night I was on call solo.  A call came in about a 320 lb. woman who died in the ICU at a hospital.  normally I would have declined doing this alone but for some reason I decided to give it a shot.  I took the large gurney and with some help we loaded the large, round body onto it and I loaded the body into the van.  It wasn't as difficult as I thought.  Working out these days to increase my strength pays off in times like this.

On another solo night call, a chaplain was present where a man died in a hospice.  The chaplain lady was very nice and rather pretty.  Asked about her job, she said she visits terminally ill patients to offer spiritual guidance in their last moments.  In this particular case, the patient had already passed by the time she got there, but she sat by him bedside anyway to pray for him.  I admire people like this, doing such a job in a dignified manner even though it goes unnoticed.  I wanted to ask her out as we rolled out the gurney to the van, but I didn't.  I just said nice to meet you and maybe we'll meet again.

A wedding ring went missing on an old man in his casket.  Such mistakes can cost someone his job in this business, so all of us in the prep room dug through all the trash, including biohazard bags for this ring.  Sifting through used diapers, bloody sheets and colostomy bags was not easy.  We also went to the sister mortuary to look through the casket and clothes of the deceased.  Ring didn't turn up, but now more people beyond the prep room are involved, so we saved all the trash and it is now piled up inside the prep room in case anyone else wants to look through them.  With so many people handling personal items it is impossible to narrow down people on possible theft.  We'll see what happens this coming week.

There is an electric organ with foot pedals behind one of our chapels.  I like to go play it once in a while and dust off the keyboard, since no one touches it anymore.  It's challenging to play bass notes with my feet but with enough practice I think I can get the hang of it.  Families really don't request organ music anymore, most opting to bring their CDs and mp3s for services.  Times have changed in this regard.

A shot in the dark

Another eventful couple of weeks.  I went to a hospice to pick up an old lady.  Her husband decided to put her there for her last days, and when paramedics took her into the elevator of their apartment complex, she died.  They called the husband to tell him the news and asked if he wanted her back inside their home.  He declined, so they brought her to the hospice already dead.  When I arrived, they didn't even get to admit her, not even an ID tag ready.

They told me what happened, and the nurses were talking about a strange voice they heard earlier in the evening.  Two of them heard the same thing and they were unnerved a bit.  So we talked about that and how I've yet to hear anything in the mortuary late at night when I'm there by myself.  They seemed intrigued with my job.

Another case from the ME:  A taxi driver was shot in the head point blank.  When I saw two large bullet holes in the skull of the man I expected to see larger exit wounds but I saw none.  Next time at ME I asked about this case and one of the autopsy assistant said he remembered that one, and that what happened was that the bullet entered the head and exited out on the same side.  The bullet took a U-turn.  Strange but true, and why he got shot is anyone's guess.

Two Marine pilots who crashed in their aircrafts while training came in.  The embalmer said the bodies were unrecognizable, totally mangled.  Yet they were embalmed and casketed for ship out with an escort.

First one I took early in the morning with a very tall Marine escort.  The soldier was rather stiff and dull, a little too serious compared to other escorts I've had ride along.  Once on the tarmac at the airport, the family of the pilot walked down and witnessed their loved one being loaded onto the plane.  It was sad to see in the side view mirror the teenage daughter crying.  Otherwise it was really cool to drive under and around 737s on the tarmac, chatting with the airline crew.

Second one I took around noon a week later, and this time the escort met me at the airport.  A Major, the escort was a very sweet guy, super humble and courteous.  I really enjoyed talking with him while waiting out the delayed flight.  He said to me, "I couldn't do what you do."  I said I couldn't do what you do.  There was no family on the tarmac this time, but as always, the escort saluted the casket as it was loaded onto the plane.  We shook hands and parted ways.

Yesterday I saw a green decomposing baby in a body bag.  I wondered how the baby was left or lost for days.  This morning I picked up a one and a half year old baby from the children's hospital.  The kid was heavy, I'd guess about 30 lbs.  The histologist released the body to me, a young guy who looks through microscopes all day.

Today a body of an old lady was leaking severely from her orifices.  Another embalmer brought out a clear plastic screw about three inches long and literally screwed it into the anus.  Then another one for the vagina.  She explained to me that the reasons for the problem is that:  1)  pressure from the innards and 2) she was not prepped thoroughly by the old geezer embalmer whom no one likes.  Whatever the case, it was absolutely disgusting and hard to watch, but very interesting at the same time.

We are expected to become more and more busy in the coming weeks, as more people die in wintertime.  It's been getting busier, especially at night.

Come, Sweet Death

Last week another driver and I went on a house call where an old man was found dead.  We drove up the driveway mentally preparing ourselves in case it was bad.  The old man died on the toilet, naked, in mid-poop.  Although visually bad, the smell wasn't as bad as we expected since he died just a day before.

We laid out a plastic wrap on the floor of the bathroom, then pulled the old fellow off the toilet onto it. My cohort pulled his legs while I used a towel around his back and under his arms so I didn't have to touch him.  Luckily he was only about 150 lbs. and not 250.  We dragged him into the bedroom where we pulled him onto our collapsed gurney.

The family requested that they wanted to see him one last time.  I told them that we would get the body in a better position than where he was in the bathroom.  So I covered him with a fuzzy green blanket over him and wrapped a white cloth sheet around his head, exposing his face while covering the plastic.  Co-driver said I did a good job in presentation and I agreed.

We waited outside while the family, including teens and kids, said their goodbyes.  This was a poor man's house in a low income neighborhood.  For you car nuts out there, I noticed a clean black Integra Type R in the dirty dirt backyard.  Pretty sweet looking ride.  Family came out emotional and said they were ready.  We loaded the body into the van and left, on our way to a hospice to pick up another old man.  But I don't really remember the latter pick up.

Maybe it's because I notice them more these days, but there seems to be a higher number of young people committing suicides lately.  A kid in his early twenties came in a couple of weeks ago.  He apparently shot himself--in the chest.  Another young guy I picked up from the ME had rope marks around his neck.  What compelled these young and otherwise healthy guys to off themselves is a mystery to us.  I just hope it's not over some girl.  That would be pathetic.

A good looking woman around 30 years old was killed while jogging recently.  She had rather large breasts.  Her body had already been harvested by an organ company, and when the embalmer took her out of the bag and onto the table she hardly looked human.  Her legs had been replaced by two blue PVC pipes, connecting her feet to her hips.  Upon cutting the sutures to expose her thoracic cavity there was nothing inside, except for a pair of silicone implants under her breasts.  Never seen that before.

Another driver, who has been working with this company for almost two years now, went to San Bernardino county Coroner's office to pick up a case.  What he brought back in a thick yellow body bag was another first for me:  A young man had died in a car fire.  Everything was charred black except for his face.  His legs and arms were burnt to a crisp, and his torso wasn't much better.  His eyes and mouth were wide open and his fingers were burned down to short nubs.  All we could imagine was that he was awake as he started to burn.  This kind of death must be the worst way to go, I said.  I think I would rather fall off a tall building.

Or drowning, since I know firsthand what that's like.  Rather peaceful, from what I can remember of losing my inner tube at a river as a small child.  I remember sinking down and things going black, going to sleep.  I don't remember who rescued me or what happened after that.  It's funny how as a kid I never really thought about how close I came to dying that day.

Die Hard

Couple of weeks ago the Asst. and I picked up a body at a hospital early in the morning.  Upon opening the body bag we discovered that the man had a full erection.  The hospital transport and the Asst. busted out laughing, pointing out the tent pitcher to me.  Having never seen that before, I commented, "Well it is morning..." to which the guys laughed even harder.  The embalmers in our prep room, who are mostly women, got a chuckle out of the poor bonered bastard as well, and said that most likely he has a inflatable pump inside his member.  When I die I hope I don't die like this...

The Asst. broke his ankle playing beach volleyball over Labor Day weekend.  Unable to walk without crutches, I took over his usual on-call duties last week.  Money!

One of the newer drivers and I went on a house call.  The removal was normal, nothing unusual.  But the new guy's attitude over the past few weeks has declined, and I watched him as we worked.  Once we got back to the mortuary I shelved the body, hoping he would offer more help than just standing there.  Not to be.  So for the rest of the week I only called him when absolutely necessary.

This job is easy once you get over the fact that you're working with dead bodies.  In our prep room, no one is expected to work like a slave and everyone is helpful.  But some drivers think they're entitled to easy on-call money at night.  The Asst. and I both agree that it is a privilege to earn extra income and those who pout and do not work hard when called upon do not deserve the opportunity.

Anyway........

A Marine sargent died while riding his motorcycle.  His body was prepped and put in a casket, to be shipped out at the airport early morning this week.  Another sargent came to escort me and the casket.  We loaded the hearse and drove to the airport cargo area.  In full dress and gloves, the young female sargent asked about what I do, telling me that she is interested in this work once she gets out of the military in four years.  I gave her the rundown, basically a condensed version of this blog.  She was cute I must say.

After unloading the casket, I drove her to the passenger terminal.  Must've been quite a sight for other travelers, a hearse pulling up to the curb and out comes a military person.  She was to ride on the same plane as the deceased, escorting the body the entire trip across the country.  Driving back to the mortuary I gunned the V8 Cadillac hearse.  This heavy thing is fast and handles very well.  I'm tempted to do some donuts with the traction control off...

The Asst. and I did a few on-calls together this week, even though his ankle is not yet healed.  I commend his effort, limping and all, I guess he needs the money.  He has the athlete's mentality and is highly driven, but I told him that he cannot force his ankle to heal and that only rest will accelerate the process.  After a few removals, he texted me that his ankle was badly swollen, so that was it for him that night.