And how do you like your corpse?

Drove up to the crematory today after not going there for over a month.  Took a party of seven, none of which I knew because I haven't picked up any bodies this week.  Guess it was slow enough this week that the temp stayed home today.  I drove, enjoying the scenery, munching on a PB&J sandwich and Doritos I packed for myself in the morning.

I also walked to work this morning, which I don't do that as much as I used to.  The crematory guy is the same, though his hair got longer.  Nothing has changed at the crematory, I guess I'm the one who's changed in the last three months.  I had one body to pick up at a mortuary nearby, a normal looking old man, nothing unusual.  Driving back with ashes, I realized how much I missed driving to the crematory, taking my time, getting into the music, alone with my thoughts for hours, etc.  The best part is no pesky phone calls from the office every 15 minutes asking me where I am.

The other day, after not picking up any bodies all day, I visited the prep room where an embalmer was working on a body.  It was a tall slightly decomposed male that had come back from MEO.  The entire thorax was hollowed out, all organs now in a bio-hazards bin, along with the brain (Organs are removed at MEO and put back in the body after slicing off small samples).  Lying by the feet was the sternum and a few inches of ribs that they cracked apart.  Next to the empty head was skull cap that was sawed off.  The face was intact but the skin was peeling off from decomposition.

The odor of the body was overwhelmed by the odor of the embalming fluid, and it was toxic, literally.  When I commented that my eyes and nose stung from the vapor, the embalmer replied, "Yeah, I made this one a little stronger because of the decomp."  Asked if it bothers him, he said that after 30 years of doing this it doesn't really bother him.  The fluid was being injected into the carotid artery, slowly pumping it through the body.  Much of the fluid was collecting into the chest cavity.  With the skin peeled back you can see all the bright-red musculature, looking much like beef ribs at the supermarket.

Done with one side, the embalmer found the other artery on the other side of the neck and jammed the large needle into it and turned the pump back on.  Inside the skull, a cut artery (that would've gone into the brain) was leaking fluid, so the embalmer pinched it off with a pincer.  I asked about all the fluid in the chest and he said he'll drain it, but it's good to let it sit in there for a while.  I also learned that it's not considered a full autopsy until the tongue, trachea and esophagus are removed.

Watching all this, it felt like I was watching TV, but of course it wasn't.  There was no way in hell I could've stood in the prep room and watched this when I first started this job.  Especially right after eating chili cheese dogs like I did.  My chest started to ache from all the vapors so I left.  The sensations from the vapors didn't go away for a while, I even smelled it when I woke up the next day.

I might add that I cooked up a little steak on the when I got home.  Rare of course....

Working Girl

Today was slooowww.  There was a new driver (another one?) hired who started training today.  A woman who is finishing her other gig as an EMT.  Apparently the plan is for her to come in at night to answer calls and remove bodies overnight.  Something I would not do, but then again, I wasn't sure about whether I could do my job either just three months ago.

I had a removal to go to so she tagged along to observe.  A simple removal at a nursing home, though it took a little while to find the rear entrance.  There were children playing in the courtyard and I wondered how to deal with that.  The charge nurse was helpful, she even came into the room to help move the body of a woman who died just an hour prior.

Deliberately I checked the body for jewelry and pacemaker, tagged the ID on the wrist, slowly pulled the body onto the gurney, wrapped up the body, strapped it down, then covered it.  Leaving the facility, I told the new driver to tell the kids to go inside for a bit while we left.  She seemed to handle the situation well.

Driving back I told her about my trepidations when I started and how I've gotten used to a lot of things on this job.  She said she was nervous about the unknown, and I told her it's easier when you go out alone because you can do things your way.  Back at the funeral home, the lead driver stood back and watched with arms crossed as I showed her how to construct a box and load a body in it.  She said she has a daughter;  I wish her well.

Earlier, in the morning, I went to go remove a body that had been in the hospital morgue for some time.  The blood in the bag had dried and the stomach was green.  The smell was like that of bad beef jerky, if there was such a thing.  Apparently this body was that of a gang member, based on the tattoos.  The security guard mentioned that he was caught stealing purses even after he was admitted as a patient.  Your guess is as good as mine as to how he died.

Things were so slow, that for the rest of the day the manager had me write out and organize a cross-reference list for the new urn catalog, writing out the item numbers and descriptions.  Yawn...

Sleepers Awake!

The last two days have been relatively uneventful compared to the puke-covered Master Beta from the other day.

Today I picked up an old man from a nursing home.  He was a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) case, so that means just that, they made no effort to bring him back when he croaked.  He had two roommates, one on each side, who were more interested in watching TV;  they were eager for me to take the man away and pull the curtains back so they can get back to their favorite show.

Then it was time for a two-man job at another hospital.  I enjoy going on removals with the lead, who is the guy who trained me from the beginning.  He listens to no music while driving and always has his black tie on tight and proper.  I think he's had the same crew cut his entire life.  Once in a while he'll crack a joke but when it's time to work he's very serious.  Dead serious (rim shot!)  Kinda like Dragnet with Tom Hanks and Dan Aykroyd.  We wondered just how big the female would be since all we knew was "300+lbs." on the first call sheet.

Once in the morgue, we saw it, a huge woman at around 340.  We opened the bag to check and discovered she had thick beard stubble like a man.  We figured she had some hormonal issues.  Luckily they left the Hoyer lift blanket under her so it was fairly easy to transfer her onto the bariatric gurney.

Yesterday, in contrast, I went to a house to pick up a 60 lbs. elderly woman.  She was absolutely tiny.  The thing that struck me was her family.  Her husband and two daughters were the most jovial grieving family I've ever met.  They joked around and told me stories as if I were a guest over for dinner.  It was nice talking to them.  As I was saying goodbye, one of the daughters explained that--as she wiped her tears--this is just how they cope, with humor and conversation.

I stopped by In N Out for lunch, enjoyed a Double Double and not concerned in the least about the bodies I had to pick up immediately after.

Then I went to remove an old woman from the hospital ICU room, where her children (who were retirement age themselves) sat around their mother until I arrived.  They were very somber, no doubt reminiscing many years of memories.  When they left they took all the flowers with them.

The office manager told me that I'd be going up to the crematory Friday.  Hooray!  It's been a while, and I'm looking forward to some quality time driving uninterrupted with the radio on, staying away from the office all day.

I was also thinking today what if a "dead" person wasn't really dead at all, and they wake up gasping for air while alone with me?  It reminded me of the following clip, one of my favorite JS Bach pieces, one that I hope to be played when I die and people gather to cry over me.

Keep it in you pants

Today started out with another Public Administrator case.  PA cases usually involve the police and a decomposing body, and this one was no exception.

When I arrived at the screen door, the decedent was on his sofa with his pants and underwear down around his ankles and vomit all over himself.  The officer was sitting behind the sofa at the desk, surfing the internet on his cop computer.  The small TV atop the shelf was on with some static-filled station.  The officer said this 200 lbs. guy had a heart attack while masturbating three days ago.  Apparently he complained about pain down his arm to his neighbor just before passing.  The neighbor, out of concern, peeked through the window blinds early this morning and saw him dead so he called 911.

I said to the officer that he seemed like a grizzled veteran and he said, "Almost 22 years, I've seen a lot of things.  I don't really get bothered by things like this anymore, um, what's the word I'm looking for..."  Unaffected? I said.  "Yes, unaffected.  I'd like to think that people can count on me in times of crisis, knowing that I can handle a bad situation with a clear mind, and that makes me feel good."

He went on, "The worst one of these cases I've seen was a woman found in her jacuzzi after a week, ass up.  The water was black.  They had to use a lift to pick her out, and the body almost fell apart.  I told my junior partner to watch that one while I went outside."

Back to the present, this man died lounging back into his sofa, busting a nut to his VCR porn.  There was a lot of vomit, all over his stomach, sofa, and legs.  There were flies swarming on the body.  I thought the best course of action (and to avoid wrapping my arms around him) was to collapse the gurney, slide it under his feet, then pull the body onto it directly from the sofa.  So I laid out the plastic and asked the officer to step on the other end of the gurney to stop it from sliding out.  Then, I pulled.  Didn't budge.  This guy was glued to the couch by his own fluids, I thought.  Officer suggested moving his upper body around to loosen him, and that seemed to help.  Inch by inch, I tugged at the body by the ankles and this large body finally landed on the gurney.  While wrapping him up the smell finally started to hit me, but I was prepared for it this time.

After this, I drove all the way across town, smelling the foul vomit/decomp stench the whole way, to pick up an elderly woman.  Apparently the woman had cardiac arrest and EMTs tried to resuscitate her on the floor.  The family had blankets covering her, and when I uncovered the body she had all kinds of tubes and an IV bag still stuck in her.  She wasn't that big but I had to use the stretcher to get her off the floor.  The family asked about tissue donation, but I just told them to call our office with any questions.

Later on I helped the lead driver set up a young man's body for a viewing for the family.  He had no brain or skull;  top of his head was just a flappy scalp after the autopsy at MEO.  I wonder how he died...

To finish out the day I picked up a 50 year old at her house with a lot of people watching me remove her.  Even her daughter wanted to watch.  That was strange.

She's So Heavy

It was nice to wake up at 9:30 this morning, though I was still five minutes late.  Turns out the lead driver didn't show up today, and as far as I know no one has heard from him.  I hope he's alright;  after all, he's almost 60.

Right away I drove up north to pick up my first body of the workweek, an elderly male at the hospital.  He was rail-thin.  Then it was a heavier than average female at the local hospital.

One thing I've noticed about most of the bodies I pick up is that the weight is almost always underestimated, especially amongst women.  MEO weighs every body so I know exactly what to expect,  but in homes and even hospitals, the weight is often copied from their Driver's License, or "eye-balled".  And who would dare write down 160 lbs. for their "petite" mother, aunt, grandmother, etc.?

This leads me to believe most, if not all, women lie about their weight on their IDs.  I've been hauling bodies long enough now to know what 100, 150, 200, and even 250 lbs. feel like.  There have been several occasions where the first call sheet listed 120 lbs., yet when I lift these females all I can think is, "There's no way in hell she is 120.  More like 160, these lying family bastards!"

Of course I keep that to myself in front of the family.  I guess it's like men rounding up on their height, but I've never met a man who lists himself six inches taller than he really is.

Weight is important to know for the funeral home and crematory.  Anyone over 300 lbs. is charged extra because of extra time it takes to cremate the body, and presumably, extra labor in moving it.  There are also pollution limits set by the county in how many pounds of human flesh the crematory can burn per hour, per day.

My lunch was at 4:30 pm.  I hadn't eaten anything all day so the chili cheese Big Bites tasted delicious, washed down with a big Dr. Pepper.  Right after that I picked up an autopsied body at MEO then drove a different route to another hospital (to avoid traffic) for my last one.  I could've sat in traffic listening to music and make some overtime but I didn't feel like it, I wanted to get home and go for a nice run through the park, since I need to drop a couple of pounds myself.

Thank God It's Dieday

It's early Friday morning before work.  It's been slow the past couple of days.  Those I work with say things slow down around this time of year.  "Death is seasonal," said the lead driver, meaning less people die in the summertime, spiking in numbers right after Christmas.

I hope this doesn't affect my employment or my full-time status.  Lucky for me, I'll just go back to driving to the crematory if things really slow down and the temp goes on to another gig.  I miss driving to the crematory;  there's just so much less stress.  As long as I get there and return in a reasonable time no one says anything.

Yesterday I went to a nursing home to pick up an old lady who'd lived there for the past 10 years, many of those bedridden.  The nurse who helped me agreed that she would rather not be in a nursing home for that long.  This nurse was very attractive and very nice, so I accepted her offer to help moving the 95 lb. body.  I didn't need help, obviously, it was just nice talking to her.  I hope somebody else there kicks the bucket soon so I can pay another visit.

I also stopped by the county health dept. to pick up death certificates for the bodies that came through the funeral home recently.  One of them described a suicide with a handgun.  Among the ones we get I wonder how many are suicides, since they don't tell the drivers anything about them at the time of removal.  Another one described the car accident and the location of the accident.

Rain is in the forecast today which means more time in traffic and less in the office, which is always welcome.  Drive safe out there;  it could be your last every time out.

The bigger they are, the harder they die

The little van was finally fixed after two days.  The owner decided not to fix the a/c since the whole system needed to be replaced.  That seems cheap, but I can understand, considering the age and value of the van at this point.  At least the brakes are done, and I read that sweating is good for your skin anyway.

Got a call late today for a pick up at the hospital.  When the security opened the cooler in the morgue he started laughing.  When I looked in I knew why:  The biggest body I have ever removed.  I've removed fat people with just a lot of fat.  This one was just thick all around.  Even the body bag was of a different variety, a lot tougher than the flimsy regular bags.  I had to go back to the van and bring in the bariatric gurney.

This man must've been a former NFL lineman or something.  He was big and wasn't even that fat really.  His wrist was thicker than my ankle, and I am not exaggerating.  300 lbs. is my conservative estimate but this kind of weight is new to me.  The security guard commented how the body looked like a casket under the cover.

Starting next week I'll be coming in to work around brunch time and finish early evening.  Apparently all the overtime last pay period (due to all the late calls in the day) made the owner reconsider scheduling.  Works for me, I was never a morning person anyway.

Good guys wear black

Today was memorable.  The van was due to go in for service, but we should've known it'd be too busy for that on a Monday.  Even with the temp driving a load to the crematory, the lead and I were busy all day.

I started out picking up an elderly woman at her house.  Her son told me when I arrived, "I used to do what you do.  But it's different when it's your own mother."  I said I'll have to go through the same someday.  Another cramped house, I tilted the gurney to get the body out.

I then drove up north an hour to pick up my first newborn/premature baby.  I wasn't sure until I got to the hospital, but when the security opened up the cooler to reveal a football-sized wrap there was no doubt.  My instinct was totally opposed to unwrapping the body, but it is my job to make sure I remove the correct one so I did.  A little baby about two hand lengths, umbilical cord still attached, name tag on the tiny ankle about as big as my thumb.  He/she (I didn't check that part, nor did I check the face) apparently died this morning.

Having not removed a baby before, I wrapped it back up, then wrapped it some more in the adult-sized plastic wrap, put it on the gurney, strapped it down and covered it just like any other body.  Walking outside to the van, some delivery drivers stared at what was on my gurney.  Usually I look back at people but I just looked straight ahead, loaded the body and took off, feeling odd.  My heart goes out to the mother.

On the long drive back I wondered what age to die is the saddest.  Certainly not 80 and up, at least to me.  Is it newborn or and older age, when a person is aware of being alive and possibly aware of dying as well?  Five to ten?  Or teens?  My choice is young children with cancer or a similarly slow-killing disease.  That has to be the saddest.

Back at the funeral home, I boxed up a 90-something grandmother and taped up and labeled the newborn.  An adult-sized box would have been too big for such a tiny body.

After lunch it was time to pick up two more.  First was a hospital that I used to drive nursing home patients to on a regular basis, but first time in this capacity.  While waiting for the nursing supervisor for paperwork a Catholic priest I knew from the home walked by and I stopped him to say hello.

The priest is a fairly young guy who sticks out of the crowd because he rides a big, black Harley with a crucifix on the front and a Jesus plate holder on the back, wearing the black shirt and white collar with a black half helmet and black leather pants with a big crucifix belt buckle.  Imagine that.  He was as nice as I remember and we chatted, and I told him what I do now.

The priest, Father Dave, told me, "A long time ago I was a funeral director, and a licensed embalmer, and I used to go on first calls just like you."  No way, I said and he said it's true.  I told him that blows my mind and that I would've never guessed such a thing from a priest and that he really must've seen it all.  He nodded yes.

The thing that strikes me the most about Father Dave is his placid, pleasant demeanor.  You can say well it's his job as a priest, but even among the priests I've met he just exudes a positive energy and a humble, approachable nature.  In essence, the kind of person I'd like to be...

After that I went to the second hospital.  I got the paperwork and I read the letters HIV on them.  I heard that HIV dies off soon after the host, but still, I tried to be extra careful.  Turns out to be a 245 lb male in a bloody body bag.  Great.  I used a lift that resembles an engine lift to try and get him onto the gurney but I wasn't sure if I could handle it so I took the cute security gal's offer of calling the Lift Team.  As the name implies, the Lift Team goes around the hospital and lifts people;  on and off beds, wheelchairs, tables, etc.

Two big guys came in (although not quite Hans & Franz as I imagined) and I told them about HIV and all the blood.  They looked concerned but lifted the body onto the gurney like pros.  One of them got a smidge of blood on his arm, but he washed up right away then they left, mission accomplished.

I had some difficulty in boxing up this one, and wrote "HIV" on the box to let others know when handling it, especially the crematory guy.  Nothing wrong with following Universal Precautions (assume worst;  cover up and wash up), right?

Another day, another dead

Glad the week is over, it's been a long, hot week.  The small van is due to go in for service Monday morning to fix the a/c.  I like hot weather but I like having a choice when it comes to sitting in a car, especially with a body or two.

Yesterday was fairly uneventful.  In fact, when I don't see something that stands out (like really gross or disturbing in some way) it's hard for me to remember those I picked up.  After a busy day sometimes I can't remember a thing, which kind of bothers me.  I find myself checking the local online obituary and read about the people I picked up.  Their lives are interesting to me...

Today I brought a body out of the cooler so the fill-in manager can take pictures at the family's request.  Sometimes the family wants photographic proof that the decedent is, without a doubt, their loved one.  I asked her how she feels about taking pics of dead people on her phone and she replied she doesn't like it so she'll send it to her email then delete them.

I picked up another body from the same hospital as yesterday, and the same security guard told me that the new guard training with him from yesterday quit after seeing bodies in the morgue.  What a pussy, we both agreed.  Now the guard telling me this is an Army veteran who toured in Iraq who said he saw much worse than what we see here.  We both wondered how anyone can begin work at a hospital and not expect to see a body at some point.  Even the phone operator will stand in the elevator with one eventually.

Another body I picked up today had one eye open.  Another from MEO was a big woman and on her body bag was a handwritten note, "Pacemaker in body" (checking for jewelry and pacemaker is standard procedure in moving a body).  I felt around the upper left chest for the device but didn't feel it.  I asked the MEO guy, who's been in the death business a long time, about this so he unzipped the bag, felt her breast and pointed out to me, "Here it is, it's just hard to tell because of all the fat."  I said I thought pacemakers were bigger than that, and he said they come smaller nowadays.  By the way--he did not put on gloves to locate the pacemaker...

At another local hospital a contractor laborer asked me in the parking lot, "Don't you get freaked out by the bodies?"  I admitted that I did at first but I've gotten used to it.  Regarding the van he asked if there was a partition between me and the bodies.  I said no, to which he shuddered and said he couldn't do such a job.

A mellow Friday today, but I noticed something odd.  I was stocking supplies in the chapel so I moved the casket out of the way to make room for myself to get by, in addition to parting the curtains and leaving the back door open.  When I came back from outside, the casket had moved back almost to its original position.  I thought for a moment maybe one of the new guys was playing a prank on me.  But I'd only left for a minute, and they don't seem like pranksters.

Then I thought that this may be my first "odd occurrence" in the funeral home, something I was afraid of when I started.  I knew there were two bodies at that moment in the prep room which is right behind the casket.  I moved the casket to see if it would roll back by itself somehow.  No, the wheels are stiff and the floor is even.  And if someone moved it back, wouldn't they move it all the way back, draw the curtain and close the door too?  Hmm...