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  Her legs had been replaced by two blue PVC pipes, connecting her feet to her hips.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.

You are the sunshine of my life

Thurs. 1:00 am 

I am trying something new tonight;  On-call Monday and Wednesday, with plenty of sleep in between on Tuesday.  So far so good, I feel pretty fresh.  Just an hour ago the Asst. and I finished two pick ups, first an old woman at a nursing home and the second another old woman at her house.  There was a large family at the house, and the son told me they were expecting this so all of her grandchildren came to stay with her for a couple of weeks.

A granddaughter told us, "This was a special woman.  Magical.  I know you guys hear that all the time but I want you to know how great she was.  I want to ask you to please take extra care in taking her and treat her with the utmost dignity."  We will, I promise.  And everyone else at the mortuary will, too, I replied.

She started to tear up.  "So do you guys do this every day?"  Yes, this is what we do...

There was a moment of silence as she and I looked at each other.  The Asst. interrupted this moment to get back to the task at hand, and we wrapped up grandma in a sheet and loaded her onto the gurney.  As we were leaving the granddaughter gave hugs to both of us.  That was nice, usually people keep their distance from those of us taking away their loved ones.  One time a woman jumped back from me when I leaned in too close.

Now here's some really sad stuff.  The other night we went to a house where a young woman passed away.  She died from cancer.  On the table in the hallway upstairs were pictures of this young pretty gal, including wedding pictures.  She and her husband got married just a year ago, her mother-in-law told me, and based on those pictures, one would never suspect any type of serious illness in her future.

The girl was on her bed, all skin and bones, with a buzzed head.  Her husband was there but when I shook his hand I realized he really wasn't there.  They had a child together, and I hope he thinks of his child in case he has any thoughts of suicide.  In my eight months on this job, that is a legitimate concern.  We carried her downstairs on a stretcher and placed her on the gurney.  The family gathered around and cried one last time.  The Asst. and I just stood outside waiting.  Once back on the road we talked about this pick up.  Someone so young who gets struck by cancer...

Earlier today, another driver and I went to go pick up a baby at a house.  The Asst. told us to be extra careful and respectful.  The boy was less than a year old and the parents took him out of hospice care so he can spend his last days at home.  What condition the boy had is unknown to us.  Upon entering the house, we saw the mother holding her son on her chest, now pale and lifeless, as if he were taking a nap after  a meal.  That sight shocked me for a moment, then I understood that I'd probably do the same if I had a child.

We sat down to get signatures from the father, who was also barely holding it together.  They asked if they can come to the mortuary today.  I said I wasn't sure but that I'll ask the arranger to call them as soon as we get back.  We brought in white sheets from the van, unfolded them on the ottoman, placed the little body on them and folded them over.  Then I gently lifted the body and handed him to my associate.  "Can we walk with you to your car?"  the parents asked.  Of course you can, I said.  We walked out the door slowly, placed the baby on the floor of the van between the front seats.  When I turned around to say goodbye, both parents were crying.  They said thank you, I said again I'm sorry for your loss, then we left.

Fuck.  Once in a while we make house calls that just breaks your heart.  As much as I try to stay detached from strangers, I can't help but get emotional when I get into such sad situations.  It's like seeing a really sad movie, except this is not a movie;  it's really happening.  I can't help but imagine what that young couple must be going through.  From joy of bringing in a new life into this world then seeing that life suffer and die, all in one year.  We drove away from this house saddened from what we just witnessed.

The nurse at the facility tonight said she's had better days.  I told her about the baby and his parents and told her no matter how bad her day was, it can't be as bad as that, and the nurse agreed.