Working the front desk
at the nursing home —
a part time gig
helping to buy the eggs
since this past September.
I like the title:
But things are a bit askew
There’s a body in the mourge.
I didn’t expect it to hit me
I guess the first time for any
is always remarkable.
Did I explain?
There’s a body in the mourge.
17 thoughts on “A Body in the Morgue”
It *can* be unnerving. I worked in a place that had a morgue and, while it didn’t bother me as an aspiring forensic scientist at the time, I had a coworker who would avoid that hall by any means necessary when it was known there was a deceased resident.
I was unnerved, however, when I was asked to fingerprint a dead body as part of my internship in a morgue, post-autopsy and prior to delivery to the mortician. After about 20 minutes doing the work, I was fine, but I declined the lunch invite that followed all the same.
Thanks for your amplification Michael.
I can imagine that can only be disturbing at best, Richard. I’ve not experienced anything like that, but the nearest thing I can think of is seeing my Mum in the chapel of rest after she died, and they’d put make-up on her. I didn’t look like my Mum at all, and I’m not sure I’ll ever visit a chapel of rest again when the next person passes on. Was the body in the morgue one of the residents from the nursing home you worked in? I hope any troubling thoughts about this are short-lived 💙.
Yes, a resident passed on the other night. The mourge is just a closet big enough for a stretcher with a lock on it.
I’m sorry to hear that. I think, even if that person isn’t a relative, it can still hit you hard. Hope the uneasiness settles soon.
It seems most of us are uncomfortable with death. A resistance to the end of life.
Not a topic for the dinner party … 🎉
A personal experience. A number of years ago I brought my mother to Peru from England as she was no longer able to look after herself. After a few years she died and my daughters and I were at her hospital bedside when she gave her last breath. The nurses came and stood around at this moment of grief and a beautiful psalm in harmony, a very moving experience, which I will never forget. My mother was then cremated and the ceremony was short but dignified. However, by Peruvian law there must be a witness who testifies that the body is really cremated,. I took on this resposiblity and passed through the door next to the conveyor belt, which rolled my mother’s coffin through the small sliding doors. There, I joined two workmen who lifted my mother like a sack of potatoes and hoisted her through the doors of the furnace. They closed the, door, turned on the heating mechanism and handed me the papers I had to sign. The beautiful, and the not so beautiful, that’s life, I guess…. and death. The body….of course, was no longer my mother. She had no use for this any longer. She was no longer there.
Thanks so much for this amplification… Your re-collection has made this post much better.
Absolutely , first time everything is always remarkable! Beautifully expressed!
Thank you for your remarks…
I am glad ☺️do read my blog 😁
Scrivere una poesia sulla morte è molto impegnatvo, questo testo è notevole. Saluti dall’Italia
Your response is much appreciated.
Thank you Richard
I really love your posts. You have such a remarkable perspective and approach to getting words down
That is very kind of you to say. 🙏