Best. Saturday. Ever.

What a lazy day.  Having a great time, beer, guacamole, and the people I love. Doesn't get any better, folks.

Yummy lunch!

Just a photo of the oysters i'm eating...

Conversations with my mother

I was talking to my mom the other night, she had shoulder surgery and I went over to check up on her and I was telling her about my manager, Tank (whom she knows), and the experience he had last week. Back years ago, when he had first received his embalmer’s license, he got a case, a young woman who had been murdered, and it was his first homicide. She had been pretty badly beaten, and he embalmed her and also met with her family, and he remembers a lot about the case: her name, how old she was, the family, etc. Apparently there had been other murders in the area all by what looked like the same person, and the man (I’m not just assuming it was a man, the victims all had been sexually assaulted and there was semen found on them) had never been caught. So, the other night he was watching the news and he heard that a man had been convicted of these murders from the time period and in the same area as this gal, but no victim names were mentioned in the clip, so he googled the story, finding the name of the girl he had embalmed decades ago as one of those victims this guy had been convicted of murdering. Pretty effing crazy, no?

So, I tell this all to my mom who is shocked that Tank remembered, and then she looked at me and said how sad it was.

Mom: That’s so sad, Doll.
Me: Yeah, but sometimes people die that way.
Mom: No, I mean that he was so affected. How awful.
Me: It’s not that bad, mom.
Mom: But it stayed with him all that time. It must have really weighed heavy on him to have stayed with him for so long. How awful to have had to work on a homicide. You’ve never had to do that, have you??
Me: Work on a homicide?
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Of course I have, mom.
Mom: How sad!!
Me: It’s part of the job, mom. It’s helpful.

So, I was thinking about it, my poor mother, all doped up on surgery meds, being surprised at the fact that I’ve worked on homicides, when I know she and I have talked about it before. Hell, I was a mess a while back working on the little one (4 years old) that had been murdered and bawled my brains out at her, so I know she knew that I’ve had to do that before, but I think it wasn’t until Tank’s story that she realized that some of this shit doesn’t go away. Some of it just stays with us. He will always see the marks on that woman’s body, remembering how he had to cover up the strangulation marks on her neck so that her parents and sister wouldn’t see the extent of the damage done to their girl, and that will always be part of the game. I will never forget that little one, and cannot seem to escape the knowledge that they suffered. Suffered badly, and for what reason? I remember my tears falling on the child’s arms as I dressed the little body, and watching a father place them in a casket that shouldn’t even be made that small.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that my mom is right. It is sad. And I think I am starting to understand that it might hurt every now and then. But it’s my job. And I love it. And I think I am starting to realize that it’s okay to be affected, at least every once in a while.

Just a giveaway

Part of the rules were that I had to let you all know about this lovely little giveaway in order to enter, so, why don't you check it out.

Also, I have a baseball bat to the face to do right now, will post tomorrow!

In which I was busy

Eek!

High profile cases were everywhere last week.  I am glad that's over.

I had a baby (preemie, lived two weeks) service yesterday- a graveside- and the priest was a half-hour late, and it was cold outside.  I was not too happy, not to mention the family was irate, but as soon as the service got started it was okay.  The sun even came out for a few minutes.

I had lunch with Big Bird yesterday as well, and it was quite awkward.  She is just so strange.  And I feel like she doesn't quite know what to say to me with the whole divorce situation.  She does ask about Clem, making sure she's okay, and that's nice, but I sorta feel like she wants details and doesn't know how to ask.  So, the lunch was a bit weird (to say the least) and I ended up getting hit on by a guy eating next to us (which she brought up to the rest of the office when we got back, embarrassing me a bit).  Very odd.

We ended up with a total of four suicides in the last two weeks.  Two gunshot wounds to the head, one OD on pills, and one suffocation, all self-inflicted (obviously).  I'm not too sure what's with the suicides, but whatever.

This week I have an AIDS case.  It's one of those cause of deaths that seems like it would worry those of us that work with the bodies, but doesn't.  See, AIDS is a very picky virus.  It can't live long in a body that isn't the right temperature, unlike Hepatitis or TB, so once a body has been refrigerated for a while it is unlikely that the remains could infect one of us (that, and it's blood borne, not airborne (again, like TB)).  The AIDS case is an older man, and from the other things listed on his death certificate it seems like he probably contracted it from needles.

Also, I have a Facebook page if any of you want to be a fan (but if you know me in real life, please don't, as I am a bit paranoid).