The First Time I ever Touched a Corpse

Her name was Sara and she was a patient in an assisted living facility where I was employed as a Certified Nurses Aide. I had been working there for almost a summer when she came in. The very day that I entered her room, she was sitting on her bed with a few photo albums spread out in front of her. "Hello, my name is Mia and I am your Aide this morning." She looked up at me and motioned me over to her bedside. "Hi Mia, my name is Sarah, would you like to see some pictures of me in my younger days? I was quite the looker." She smiled at me and I laughed and said, "That would be incredible actually, but only on one condition. If you agree to give me some background stories behind the photos? We have a deal." I went into her room and sat down in a chair next to her bed and began the first of many journies through her glorious and eventful life.

I was only 18 years old at the time and I hadn't quite experienced life as of yet. There hadn't been any extensive travel or anything of that nature so it was awesome to be able to sit with Sara Monday through Friday mornings throughout the day and listen to a new story behind a different photo. Her stories would last anywhere from half an hour to an hour. I did have other patients to tend to so at times, I would have to leave her in the middle of a story. When I would return to her, she was always bright-eyed and ready to tell the rest. I felt that those times were great for Sara. She didn't have very many visitors at all, in fact, I never did see any on my shift. I felt that it was a way for her to re-live some monumental events that she had experienced. Not every story was pleasant. We shared laughs and tears over the course of about 4 months. We also played checkers and once I brought my Monopoly game to work and just left it in her room. We would have a chance to start a game in the morning and complete it by the time I had to clock out.

When we were not playing games, I always brushed her long silver hair as she told the story of a photo. My duties for her included bad baths, sometimes she felt energetic enough to enter the shower, I would place her on her shower chair and bathe her. We couldn't take any photos into the shower of course, so she would show me a picture first. I would hold the image in my mind, as she told her story.

At the end of every day, I would go home with beautiful mental visuals of what life was like for her so, so many years ago. Sara was 88 years old. I looked forward to spending time with her every day, she was the highlight of my sometimes stressful and strenuous job.

One day when I went to work on a Wednesday, Sara was feeling weak, just lying in bed, needing more sleep. I spoke with my Supervisor of her condition and discovered that it had begun to deteriorate the previous eve. My heart was heavy with the knowledge that she might not make it through the day, but I went about my duties as I was instructed to do. She slept through the morning and I constantly went in and out of her room, adjusting her pillow and making sure that she was completely covered and warm. I did speak to her, she did not answer but I felt that she could hear me.

After my lunch break that day I went into her room and as I stepped onto the threshold of her room, I suddenly stopped. I looked over at her in her bed and her chest was no longer rising and falling. Somehow the monitor that she was attached to had been pulled from her body and was hanging off of the side of the bed. Her eyes were partially open and her mouth was too. I could see from where I stood that her eyes were lifeless, but I approached the bed anyway. I gently spoke her name several times. I knew that I needed to check her pulse but I was actually afraid to touch her. I had the urge to run out into the hallway and grab my supervisor, but I had to know for myself. I reached over and touched her neck. I felt nothing, no gentle pulsating beat. Her body was still warm and the room was eerily quiet.

I knew that it was time to venture out and find my Supervisor but for some reason, I did not wish to leave her. I forced myself to leave the room, I caught up to my Supervisor at the end of the hall and explained the situation. She ran down the hall and very soon, more nurses joined her. They closed the door and I stood in the hallway. I had other patients that I should have checked in with but I could not move from that spot. When the door opened, my Supervisor approached me and told me that Sara had passed away and she had to make some phone calls to her immediate family. I asked her what should I do at that moment and she told me to go back to work, get to my other patients, and then she walked away.

I disobeyed her order and walked directly into Saras' room. I could instantly see that there were two nurses in the room and they were talking and laughing as if nothing had occurred. I immediately told them that my boss had given me permission to bathe the body for viewing. I told them that I had been her primary caregiver and that I knew what I was doing. I was informed that at least one of them had to stay in the room with me and I agreed because I knew that I did not have a choice.

I went out into the hallway and as I gathered my bedding and tools for the job, I told one of my co-workers what I intended to do and she could see that my soul was crying and agreed to check my patients for me. When I went back to Saras' room, the nurse had already begun the process. We basically assisted each other and when we were done, I told her that Sara loved to wear her hair a certain way and I asked her if I could please brush her hair alone. She went and stood by the door as I silently brushed Saras long, soft silver tresses. That is when the tears began to roll down my cheeks. I quietly, very quietly cried and brushed and brushed and brushed. I whispered to her that she is my forever friend and I will always carry her in my heart. I mentioned various names of her husbands, family and friends who had died before her. I told her to tell them about me, as I felt like I personally knew them all. I knew in my heart that her homecoming must have been a grand celebration, but the sadness of her passing inevitably made me leave the field for some years. I did return and was a Home-Heath Aide off and on for over 30 years. R.I.P my beautiful and wondrous Sara. I miss you.