death stinks

on new year's eve day, i got to work at 0645, like usual. at 0700, i sat through report, preparing for my day, barely listening to the ramblings of the night charge nurse recapping the previous 12 hours. but when i hear, "room 8232 expired at 0432," for some reason, i start to listen. as often as deaths occur on my unit, i continue to be saddened and the tiniest bit surprised. i often think to myself, "what a strange job. how many other folks can expect to witness and participate in death on a daily basis." well, i do. it's the reality of working as a nurse on an oncology unit. i am not assigned to room 8232; i do not know the woman who died. i never knew her and never will - or so i think.

my friend, courtney, is assigned to the woman's post-mortum care. and so, i become involved. hours after i've begun to care for my live patients, courtney asks for my assistance with her dead one; it's nearly lunch time. the family of the woman who has expired (what kind of word is that anyway) asked courtney to put in the 83 year old's dentures. so, we go in together. we kindly ask the family to leave the room. and then, we struggle to put stinky dentures into a dead, starting to stink mouth. death is not pretty. it does not smell good. rigor mortis has set in. the woman's jaw has drooped to the left. her tongue protrudes. how awkward. we have rubber gloves on. one of us is pulling down her jaw. the other is shoving uppers and lowers, trying to get them to click in place. i envision improper placement and teeth flying out as the family returns. after a tongue blade and some major force, we get them in. phew. job well done. time for lunch.