A child in the morgue

One of my relatives worked for 20 years in the medical examination court. And when I was little, I always asked her, “Aren’t you afraid to work with the dead?” She always told me to be afraid of the living, not the dead. But there was one time when she was confused.

It was in the summer, at the beginning of July 90. They brought a 1.5-month-old child with them for an autopsy. The mother is a village, everyone is at work, she will feed the child, he is sleeping, she runs to cook cattle, feed them, a garden of 30 acres. I fed the baby, put it on the pillow, and ran to work myself. The child was clearly crying, moving, and slid off the pillow, the cap tied around his neck stretched.

When she came, the child’s face was already blue; he did not show signs of life. They called an ambulance, while she got from the city to the village; they could not do anything. They pronounced her dead.

At the same time, a woman’s son drowned in the river. The whole city was on its ears. They searched for him for several days, but could not find him. My father went to the shore every day and sat there for hours. And then one day he was sitting, looking into the water, and his son surfaced right in front of him. It’s already evening, they took it out and brought it in for an autopsy. And the day is Friday, Saturday and Sunday off. The drowned man is already swollen all over, it smells, the meat is falling off, well, this one is for the heads. The doctor needs to be opened today, and buried in the morning.

While my relative was found, while the doctor, while they were brought to work, it was already getting dark. They were paid so that after the autopsy the body was processed, washed, and things were left to be changed immediately.

And that’s how she says; “We wrapped our heads with sheets; only our eyes remained (because it is sometimes impossible to do an autopsy because of the smell). The doctor opens it; she helps, and immediately writes. The night is already in the yard, but the money has been paid, and the authorities cannot be refused. Suddenly, he says, I hear a child crying from the next room. No, I think it seemed, I was looking at the doctor with one eye; there was no reaction. Well, I think it seemed. After some time, the crying is louder again. The doctor raises his head, and looks at me; I, without agreeing, step into the next room, open the refrigerator. This 1.5-month-old child is lying with his eyes open and his mouth open. It was scary, but they took him out and examined him — he was dead, and there was no lethargic sleep. They closed their eyes and returned to the refrigerator. We went on to finish the autopsy. After a while, the baby’s crying again, and louder and louder. They were very scared, changed their clothes, and ran away from there.

We decided to come early in the morning to finish the autopsy. My relative is afraid to go home alone; well, the doctor went to go with her to the apartment.

At five in the morning they came to work, put on dressing gowns, oilcloth aprons, sheets on their heads, and immediately went to the refrigerator. They open it, and there this child is again with his eyes open. Pulled out, examined again, no, he’s been dead for more than a day.

Then, when the autopsy was completed, the doctor said that there are cases in practice when the deceased have reflex reactions — clenching and unclenching of the limbs, eyelids of the eyes, etc. I’ve arranged everything so scientifically on the shelves. And I, he says, do not argue. I nodded my head. But I think to myself: well, there are eyes that are open for the dead; they put coins. And sometimes we tie our mouth to the chin, to the head, so that it does not open, but crying???”

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