a girl who dead lifts

My name is "S". I removed dead bodies for a living on the west coast (United States). This is a blog to share stories of those experiences, and hopefully shed a little light (and humor) on people who provide death care.

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

04.28.2020

All Hands on Hoarder Deck 

Have you ever heard a story of someone who had stacks of empty cat food cans and empty bottles in their home? Have you ever seen a show called hoarders where they address these types of people? If the answer is yes to either of those things I would like you to take a moment and really think about what those homes typically look like.

Can you imagine someone is that scenario who has closed themselves off to society and lived in their trash castle? Dig in and think about what it would smell like - that mixture of cat food cans, milk jugs and trash. What it would feel like to inhale a deep breathe, or try to awkwardly make a path from one end of the room to other. The uncertainty of every step you take - that gamble of ‘is it a newspaper covering a dead cat?’ or worse a living one. Hoping that this person was just in a bad mental state but not bad enough to need things like needles to ease some pain. Those things too hide well under newspaper. 

Now.

Now take that image and add a dead person right in the middle of it. But not in the middle of the home which might be semi convenient. This is the type of person who wouldn’t be near their front door, perhaps brought down by an unexpected heart attack and showered - Right at the door grabbing their keys to go out. No. This is the type of person who is in a back bedroom and already living in a half dead way. These types of people go days and weeks and months without talking to others on the outside anyway, so they’re the ones who aren’t found right away. A family member will realize they haven't heard from uncle whoever for two weeks and they send police to do a wellness check. They discover the inevitable and are typically waiting on us at the residence because the family didn’t want to show up. In my world these are the hoarder houses aka the ‘Been down for a while’, ‘There’s no family present’ and ‘Please call officer so-and-so with your eta for arrival’ type. All three of those phrases are a finger pointed directly at Stinkyville.

Now that all of that is in your brain I would like for you to factor in that these people do not go out regularly. They don’t eat anything that isn’t either delivered, frozen or canned- these items typically aren’t healthy. This also means minimal activity. So...This means (in my experience) that they aren’t...small. I’m talking 400-600 pounds.

So here we have it - stacks of hoarded items that make it impossible to get our equipment in + lack of communication with the outside world + large decomposing body. Not for the faint of heart and not to be handled with the typical two person team. It is possible to call in help from other employees if they happen to be on the schedule but I only worked midnight to noon and this scenario always happened before any other kind of internal help was a possibility. So this meant that I would get to call the fire department.

The boys (and girls) would show up the residence ready and enthusiastic. My guess is that they were happy to help in a situation that wasn’t necessarily life or death. We’d all come together on the terms of recovery and how to get a 600 pound stinking mass through an obstacle course of garbage and then implement it. Saving everyone’s backs, sanity and a dead persons dignity. This typically meant us creating slings - wiggling them below whatever we could get them under and then half sliding half carrying the person to whatever front porch they had. Luckily my shift was mostly covered in the shroud of night so we could work with a little bit more freedom around being ogled at. 

The next step was always getting them onto our equipment. This meant lowering our ‘big boy’ cot (that could hold aprx 1000 pounds) and centering the decedent. We’d secure the body and then with all hands on deck bring it back up high enough to get it into our van. The challenge wasn’t getting the decedent into the van. The challenge was getting them out of the van without the happy to help hands of firemen and women. Sometimes we’d have to transport them to the funeral home and simply wait until other staff like embalmers were around to support the weight and maneuver the cot.

It’s been over 6 months since I’ve had to do anything like a 600 pound hoarding removal but I can still vividly smell what a house like it creates. Situations like these were always oddly satisfying because getting to work with a skilled fire/police team created some unspoken acknowledgment of strength on all fronts. It also helped me to be extremely aware of the things I decide to keep and throw away in my own home.

Until next time

‘S’

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

At the end of the day.

03.09.2020

10 Important things to remember when you’re a removal tech

What I wanted to say with this post is that I don’t think working with dead people is for everyone. I think it takes an incredibly special type of personality. There has to be a blend of curiosity, ability to disconnect and a huge respect. If you have too  much of one of these you end up having nightmares, a drinking problem, or bad skin. It’s important to note that anyone thinking about working in the death care industry remember these 10 key things:

1. Not everyone around you is going to be doing it for the right reasons. You have to be able to let that go, and keep your focus. Some people will be in it for the paycheck, some people will be doing it to use as a parlor trick or conversation piece. 

2. DRINK. PLENTY. OF.WATER. (NOT just water infused with coffee or rock star/red bull)

3. Get your sleep whenever you can. I’m talking days off, naps between shifts and calls, and melatonin if you need the extra help. 

4.It’s going to be a long shift, just go ahead and plan on 12-14 hours. 

5.Take time off when you don’t even look at your phone.

6. Don’t pick up smoking even though everyone else on the nightshift does.

7. Don’t try to Facebook creep on the person you just picked up from the medical examiner. You’ll find yourself in a rabbit hole of flipping through the decedents aunts-cousins-teacherfromhighschool’s profile. Just move on after each pickup.

8. Learn how to use a cot. Frontwards, backwards and inside out. They will make your life a million times easier.

9. Workout your upper body at the gym.

10.  Do not use the words “MY CONDOLENSES” you sound like a robot and it doesn’t mean anything to a grieving widow. My go to is “I’m sorry we’re having to meet this way”. It’s more sincere and it lets the person know that you’re happy to have met them and be able to help them during this time. 

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

03.09.2020

A change of pace

I’m breaking the silence after many months because a lot has happened here on the West Coast. Both in my personal life as a now married woman and in the news with the insane panic of a virus.  I will go back and log some of the more memorable moments as a removal technician, but I’ve put a pin the in the funeral service for a spell. I went into an even more niche field as a Recovery Technician for an eye bank. Basically I’m now the person who removes corneas and/or the entire eye after someone has passed so that a living person can receive the gift of sight again. I’m sure I’ll be able to tell some spoooopy tales after I’ve adjusted to the field-- so stay tuned. Not that I really think anyone is really listening here anyway, it’s more of a way for me to diary these events as I’m finding my footing on this ever approaching hill of “Almost 30 years old”. 

A good picture to hold in your mind about what I do is this image from Coraline. Once the Cornea has been removed the front of the eye is simply open and it very much looks like this. There’ s a creepy lil tidbit for ya’.

Until next time.

“S”

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

The Woman Who Had Energy

I have been missing for many a day because my job has taken over my life and my weeks have been 60-80 hours each. I wanted to chime in here though because I have another ghostly tale to share. 

It was 2 or 3 am when I pulled up to a nursing home in the city. It was visibly beautiful even in the dark with a  grand entrance covered in potted plants and hanging flowers. When I rang the number to let the staff known I had arrived there was no answer. I sat in my vehicle momentarily while I scanned the face of the entrance for a call box or door bell. Bingo. 

I rang the bell and waited. 

An older gentlemen came and awkwardly held the door open as I gathered my equipment and pushed it inside. He muttered something about a nurse waiting for me around the corner and he faded into the night. Everything past the entrance was a little broken down and when I rounded the corner I found a younger nurse standing near a closed door. This is normally indication of a decedent on the other side - especially when every other door is open. 

I met her with a smile and asked if this was Mrs. Blanks room, when she said yes she unlocked the door and I pushed my cot into the dark, fumbling for a light that would reveal the bed against the far wall. The nurse from the hallway asked as I approached the tiny dead woman if she was in fact dead. In my head I wondered if this nurse was new - it was very obvious that this woman had passed because when I lowered the head of her bed frame her body stayed upright. Her rigor mortis had set in. I explained that she very much appeared to be and with my back turned to the nurse and began unzipping my cot. The nurse sounded nervous when she said “The motion detector in here has been going off the last few hours”. I paused and passed it off as being an air vent. I asked the nurse if there was any paperwork I needed to sign and she left to check. When I heard her footsteps leaving I did a scan of the room. There wasn’t anything moving even though I could feel the air conditioner blowing. I felt a little uneasy and hurriedly put on the ankle band and got everything situated for the transfer. 

When I had Mrs. Blank halfway onto the cot I heard the nurse enter the room and felt her standing pretty close behind me and thought ‘Maybe she got her nerve up’ but instead asked “Was there any paper work for you guys?” to help break the tension and silence. Nothing.

’Rude’ I thought, but then quickly ‘Maybe this part really freaks her out’ so I got the decedent secured and covered and turned to face the nurse who I assumed would have paperwork in hand. Nothing. No one. NO ONE WAS IN THE ROOM BUT ME AND THE DEAD WOMAN. 

I felt the hair on my arms stand on end. I quickly pushed my cot out of the room and to the nurses station where the nurse in question was sitting at her desk with zero paper work. I made a b-line for the door and safety of my vehicle where I said a little prayer and spiel to Mrs. Blank about being only the transport for her and that I hope she’d be able to find some peace. That was all I thought. 

Fast forward to a few days later when I was meeting a co-worker at a funeral home to help with the delivery of a casket (always a two person job) and to pick up some clothes for the burial of you guessed it...Mrs. Blank. We got the casket unloaded and situated in the proper place but while doing so I was telling my co-worker about the odd removal of Mrs. Blank. He’s a newer guy who gets super animated about these kinds of stories so I figured he’d appreciate the theatrics of the final touches of my story ending while we were outside locking the doors and making our way to the vehicles. It was in the early hours of the morning before any kind of daybreak. We stood underneath a motion detecting light and our vans were parked halfway under its blue blanket. The rest of the world was silent and pitch black. I held the clothing up towards him for dramatic effect and said “Yeah, these are actually Mrs. Blanks” and I shit you not- The light that had been above our heads blew out the moment I said the dead woman’s name. We had been at this funeral home for 15 minutes and the light had been fine. IT BLEW THE MOMENT I SAID HER FUCKING NAME.

I was electrified.

I felt my arms and legs go numb and we were both silent for a moment. We then erupted with hoops and hollers and uncomfortable laughter as we both let it sink in. We both admitted to the weirdness and the feeling of electricity on our skin and having all the hair on our bodies stand on end. It was unbelievably coincidental. We agreed to get the hell out of there and talk about it later. 

When we were back in the safety of our own funeral home base we discussed what had just happened and happily agreed  to have had the other as witness to this event.

Mrs. Blank (not her real name for discretion and safety purposes ha) is a woman that must have had a whole lot of energy.

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

Lady in Red

I am unashamed to say that Beetlejuice is one of my all time favorite movies, so I’m taking the chance to use it as a photo for the following story. 

Most of my job is pretty straight forward. Enter a home with medical equipment, assess the situation, exit said home with the deceased. I’ve learned A LOT of people don’t die in the ideal scenario of peaceful and in bed, but it isn’t very often that we pick up someone who is (how do I say it...) messy, from a residental area. Most of those types of bodies are coming from a medical examiner. 

This week was a different one for me. It was the second day of my week and the whole day had already been a shit show. I was already stressed, already completely worn down, and it was around the 10th hour when we received a call to do a removal from a home about 30 minutes away from my current location. My partner (a well seasoned man with over 20 years of experience in the field) took the lead and when confirming details left out some important questions. In his mind a removal has to be done no matter what, so sometimes he leaves these questions off if a loved one is having a particulary difficult time. I get it. BUT it also comes down to bringing the right equipment and/or partner. A few hours before this call I had a 390 pound man and my arms felt like broken rubber bands. 

These are the questions my partner did NOT ask. 

Are there stairs or obstacles that we may encounter? (VERY critical)

Where is the deceased located? (also VERY critical)

Maybe those questions will help paint an accurate picture of where this story is headed. 

I had someone in my vehicle already. I had to go the bathroom since I left the hospital with my passenger, semi holding it until I got back to home base. We never leave someone unattended, so once you’ve done a pickup its a big no no to stop and go go. So when we received the itineray to head to the next call, I reached out to my partner and told him I needed to go to the bathroom. The gist of what I heard as a response was “It’ll be an easy call, lets get in and get out” I thought to myself, I can hold it for a while longer. 

When we met up and began our in unison route through the neighborhood every single home was precariously perched on the side of a hill. Every single one had stairs. EVERY SINGLE ONE had a tiny, steep driveway. The house that we ended up rolling up to, was a two story with an alarming number of stairs visble on the outside. I felt my bladder pulse, it had realized around the same time as I, that it was not going to be a “get in and get out quickly scenario”.

We greet the family. My partner sits at the table with a spouse who is in tears. I’m standing far enough back to be there more as a figure of support and I’m only halfway listening to what he’s saying. I’m internally persuading my bladder into not bursting, making deals that if it holds I’ll never make it wait again. I’m brought back in with laser focus when the husband says “I haven’t been in there again because it’s too hard to see her like that” followed by “Please be careful, it’s very messy in there”. My bladder contracts hard. I’m getting the cold sweats. MESSY. MESSY?! messy. It’s sling shotting around in my head and I’m trying to figure out how I can somehow teleport to a clean toilet to pee. 

I’m able to keep my composure as the husband explains that his wife had a lung surgery recently. I’m able to keep it when he walks us up to the second story of the home. I’m even able to keep it when he takes us to the door of their shared bedroom. I start to lose it around the time he tells us that his wife is in their bathroom. My bladder and I sink and think it’s some kind of sick twist of fate. So close to what we desperately need, but so far away. 

We let the husband know we have it from that moment on and he leaves us to enter their bedroom. I open the door and instantly the scent of death is intense. There’s a mixture of normal after death scent, but it is saturated with the smell of blood. I can’t see her but I can already tell there is A LOT of blood waiting with her body. 

 The light was on in tbathroom, giving an eerie beacon to head towards. When we made it to the open doorway we both just... absorb...the scene for a moment before saying anything. What was once a pristince white bathroom had blood splatters from ceiling to floor. This poor woman had very obviously met a painful end. From what we could tell in her last moments she had coughed up mouthfuls of blood, splattering it from above her head to sink below. There were smears in the blood on the countertop where she must have panicked or tried to brace a fall. She was face down but legs curled to the side in a quarter inch of her own blood. There was no floor space in the bathroom that didn’t have this deep red pool. It had began to seep into the room divide on the floor, barely separating the redness from the stark white carpet of their bedroom. Her pajamas had been soft grey cotton once, but were now mostly covered in the jelly of her escaped blood. It looked like a murder scene. I had never seen anything like this before. 

I followed my partners lead, from getting our equipment inside to folding the plastic to get her safely transported, to doing the inevitable blood avoidance dance and trying to not get it on the WHITE carpet. I was dying, I was lifting and squatting with this womans busted face in my own, hoping she wouldn’t sense that I wanted to crawl across her and just pee in her toilet. I kept it together, I kept my cool. My bladder was contracting so hard as we led her down the flights of stairs. I was sweating profusely, begging my body to endure it just a little longer. And it did. 

We got her secured in our vehicle and my partner said our goodbyes.

Having said all that, this is what I want you to take away from this:

ALWAYS USE THE RESTROOM BEFORE A CALL. 

- S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

A Ghost (?) Story. 

Here I am in around 5 am, delivering a dead man to a funeral home for his viewing to occur in the next few hours. When someone is in a casket we travel in pairs of two because the deceased is easier to move and because it’s safer for everyone involved. So keep that in mind. 2 living men, one dead man. 

This particular funeral home has a notorious reputation with all of technicians at my company to carry a particularly eerie presence. I’d been here a dozen times alone and never felt anything out of the ordinary. On this night (fitting that it was partly cloudy with hints of mostly full moon coming from behind the clouds) I immediately felt the strange presence I’d heard so many discuss. 

I parked my vehicle in the loading position and spoke to my deceased passenger saying that we had arrived. (I do this on a regular basis because I feel like it’s a respect thing on some level.) When I made it inside the funeral home and disabled the alarm (everything about that was normal) I went through the length of the building to open the double doors (we have to prop open) to bring our deceased inside. Upon doing this both doors stood open on their own. It wasn’t windy, and the dozens of times I’d been here before - this had NEVER happened. So I thought to myself and even said aloud to my partner who was in ear shot that our passenger was holding the doors open for us. We both chuckled and got our man out and inside to the chapel room where his viewing was going to happen. We thanked him for helping us get him inside. 

We get him situated amongst the floral arrangements and lamps and turn off all the overhead lights, closed the STILL OPEN double doors and head to where I’m going to re-set the alarm. I enter my code and on the display it says “Motion detected in Chapel Room”.

CHAPEL ROOM. Where we had just left our man. 

I laugh nervously and we head back in to make sure there isn’t something like a fabric piece or floral arrangement somehow moving over a heater vent or something to trigger the motion detector. Anything. We looked for ANYTHING that could have changed to make the alarm unable to set. There was nothing. 

So... we head back across the funeral home and to the alarm where I enter the code again. It says the same thing. I’ve got this feeling in my gut that I can’t shake and I back out of the screen I’m in, to enter my code again. This time it says “Motion detected in the Cascade Room” That is a room closer to us from where the Chapel is. 

I back out quickly and enter the code again, this time it says “Motion detected in front office” CLOSER STILL.

I’m a little frantic and my partner is watching all this happen and says “It’s getting closer to us”. Sweating - I had come to this realization too. 

I enter the code again and this time it reads “Motion detected in hallway” which is literally on the other side of the closed door where I’m standing.

I’m laughing nervously and half expect someone to open the door. There aren’t any foot steps though, no one is calling out. Typically at night if anyone has come inside while we’re doing a delivery it’s a courtesy to speak so you don’t scare the shit out of someone. 

I enter the code again and it’s in the room with us. I enter the code a last time and it’s moved into the room behind us. 

I look at my partner and say “I can’t set it, lets get out of here” hurriedly. He agrees and we half run/ half look over our shoulder until we’re out. We left the alarm undone, because at this point it’s around 5:30 am and someone who works there should be getting in within the next hour our so.

Once outside the sun is starting to come up a little, and we both feel better. We laugh knowing that we aren’t crazy if we both saw it happen. We also have a great story to tell when the question comes up “Has anything weird happened?”

-S

[yoshis-moved]

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

Animals are extremely sensitive to death in my opinion. I’ve done lots of removals where they are eerily aware of what’s going on.

One of the best things about my job is that occasionally when I go to do a removal there is a dog or cat present. If said animal approaches me (an obvious outsider who already smells of death) I feel honored. 

As long as the family present seems okay with it, I’ll love on the pet. It works in my favor in many ways. 

1) I seem human

2) It makes the pet feel better 

3) It makes ‘S’ feel better 

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

Big Men Die in Small Places

Have you seen one of these? I’m sure at some point or another, the answer is yes. The type that live in these homes are people in your own circle. They’re your sweet grandparents and cool aunts and uncles. They’re the old couple you secretly envy at the morning breakfast spot who have to “hit the road” after they've finished their coffee. They’re people who have the open road in their eyes and a youthful mind. They’re the last people you’d expect to die. But they do just like everyone else - eventually those wheels stop moving. 

Enter ‘S’. She’s dressed in black and has her equipment ready. She’s got her game face on. She also has some advice for you.

It’s okay to have that sinking feeling wash over you once you realize this type of residence is your destination. The steps that once pulled out, won’t - or they aren’t there at all. Your motion is going to be limited. Prepare yourself because it seems that most of these calls don’t come immediately at the time of death. Just know those things. Mentally prepare yourself. 

I’ve heard the stories of ant covered men, the summer heat, and suicides in this setting. I’ve seen two RV’s in my horizon and in each scenario the deceased met their end in their own bed. One “Blew his brains out” per spouse. One “Would have wanted it this way” per long time friend. Months and miles apart, these two situations had one thing in common.  

GIANTS.

THEY WERE GIANTS. 

One man literally measured 7 feet tall and the next was over 300 pounds. You may be thinking to yourself “Jeez, S, it seems that an RV is such a small space for people so large to live?” YES. MY THOUGHT EXACTLY, reader. 

My advice here is also this: This is not going to be a pretty or delicate removal. There is going to be sweat. There is going to be uncomfortable lifting and sliding. There is going to be the awkward dance around a huge man in a plastic bag that you somehow have to get outside and into your vehicle. 

That being said the most important thing I can hope that you take away from this word vomit is: IF the deceased has family there and they want to remain present, do your damn best to convince them to at least go outside. Ask them to wait on the side your exit isn’t going to occur. Stress to them that you want the memory of who ever you’re moving, to be a good one. Because let me tell ya’ son, if they watch, IT WON’T BE.

-S

[edenfuture2]

Source : Cowboy Bepop

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

One of my favorite things that we do at my job is to leave a single rose on the pillow where a person took their last breath. We do it as a gesture of condolence for the family, but also to commemorate a life that has ended. I think it’s an incredibly beautiful and sweet gesture. 

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

From one removal technician to another: Always flush the toilet. 

This advice was given to me and it’s something I hold very dear. There’s always going to be a person who dies on a full toilet, and you’re going to make everyone in the room feel more comfortable if you just flush right off the bat. Don’t play into that sick urge to see if it’s full. JUST.FLUSH.

I repeat. Don’t look. 

You’re already going to have nightmares about these types of situations, you don’t need that kind of shit in your life. Pun very much intended. 

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

The Lady in the Water.

Let me paint a scene for you. This particular story is about a woman who died in an assisted living facility. These types of facilities are founded on the basis that the elderly are allowed to live mostly independent, but a nursing staff is available and handy for things like medication administration and general care like checking in on residents.

Y’Know.

To make sure they aren’t dead and shit. 

...

This woman ( from what was gathered by talking to the family when we arrived) had been put on new medication recently and had mostly been able to come and go as she pleased. The family was pretty upset about the situation because in this scenario it was a downstairs neighbor who heard water running for hours in the apartment above and thought that it was strange. Typically after we talk to a family (we give them information about the next steps and get a few signatures) we’ll ask to see where their loved one is located. A lot of times they’ll walk us to where said person can be found. 

But.

This family only pointed towards a closed door, which automatically raised the caution flag in my head. So there it is, flag a’wavin’, and I ask if they want to remain present for the removal. They agree to wait in the lobby of the facility. My partner and I head to our vehicle and get the medical style cot out and then go back up to take a look at our situation since the family has left us alone. 

We enter the apartment that felt like a tropical rainforest (we’re both layered up because it’s 30 something outside) and I open the door to the bathroom. This woman had a huge heater vent in the room. It felt like the room was over a hundred since it had been sealed off. I look in and on top of the drain was the poor woman- sitting upright, half submerged in water for over a day, butt as a damn drain plug. 

Y’know how when you’ve been swimming for an hour and your fingers start looking like a raisin? This woman had been in the water for a whole day plus some.

My first thought was “How do we get the water out of the tub?” So I took off my jacket, gloved up and proceeded to try to slide this woman’s butt off of the drain so the water could escape. Instantly the cloud of day old soaking flesh and released bowels hit my face that was leaned over this drain in a corner. I admittedly gagged. It’s been one of the only times I’ve ever done so, and It happened as soon as the water began to move. I’m not even mildly ashamed. The bathroom was tiny and even with the door open and a vent fan turned on, it felt and smelled like a ring in Hell. I was gagging and laughing quietly because of it, and It caused a chain reaction and my partner began doing the same. 

So, Okay. Water is drained. I’m already sweating, and me and my partner (who is a lovely lady roughly same age and weight as myself for visualization) try to hoist this woman who’s rigor has set in and she won’t move out of her seated position. Did I mention before death she was almost 200 pounds? it’s just another tidbit for the mental image. Moving her from outside the tub isn’t aiding in any solution so I whisper to her “I have to get in the tub” and we both open our eyes wide and take a split second to laugh awkwardly.

We fashioned a pulley system out of a plastic sheath (this is basically a white body bag we carry with us concealed in the cot at all times) where I lifted and my partner pulled to get this woman’s butt on the edge of the tub so we could have her fall (guided and as gently as possible) onto the waiting and lowered medical cot. She was heavy. We used every ounce of strength we had to pull her out this way and we only got her halfway out before the plastic started peeling off and cutting layers of her soaked skin. It was a nightmare. It was some sort of weird grated cheese like scenario where everyone wanted to say they’d had enough. 

It felt like I had been beat up and I felt tremendously guilty for having to have been so rough with this woman, but every removal has to be completed and there was no getting around having to use a little muscle. We got her situated on the cot and we took her out with as much finesse as we could. The entire time in my head telling her I was sorry.

After we got her situated and secured in the transport vehicle, my partner and I said our goodbyes to the family and headed back to the funeral home. Once we were back we both got out of respective vehicles in silence, approached one another laughing like two mad-women and then proceeded to hug. We had both been working there less than a month and it was in that moment we bonded and became friends. 

Since working this particular job I have gathered that if I ever have chest pains while taking a poop or a shower, I’m rushing to get in some clothes. I have also gathered that you do not make the type of friends in the regular world, that you make with people who help you remove bodies from bathtubs.

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

The Main Questions.

Here are questions I get a lot. I welcome questions and will always answer them, because knowledge is power and people are only going to stay uncomfortable on the subject of death if we don’t talk about it. If you have any, feel free to comment and I’ll be honest. 

“Why do you do this?”

Because I’m a creep.

Just kidding - I love the idea of helping someone who is grieving. Yeah, I go to do the removal of a person who has died, but their families are there a lot of the time, and I love the interaction with them. You knock on someone’s door who just lost a child or parent or spouse, and you’re finding them in the most raw and vulnerable state. I think it’s an honor to take care of someone who is in that position.

“How can you do this?”

With heavy weight training at the gym.

Just kidding, again. It’s a stressful job, there’s no doubt, but I do it with an incredible sense of pride. I imagine that I’m driving up to my grandmothers house and I treat people with that level of respect. I also occasionally smudge my apartment with sage. 

“What got you into this?”

Indeed.com application (with zero experience) and an interest in the funeral industry burning bright since I was a teen. 

 “Is it just you?”

Ah, the question I get the most because I’m a 26 year old girl who weighs 130 pounds. Yes, it is just me. Yes, I’m trained on how to safely and gently transfer a person onto my equipment. Yes, I can handle it. There are safe ways to maneuver and lift weights that seem intimidating. 

*disclaimer* We travel in pairs of two if the deceased is in a residential setting, and we still get this question if we travel as a pair of two women. It’s asked less if it’s me and another gentleman, but it does still happen from time to time.

“Have you seen any ghosts?”

No, but I do get lots of strange feelings and I like to think that I’d be sensitive to the presence of a passed loved one. 

“What’s the grossest thing you’ve seen?”

I have a lot of these, that will eventually make it into blog/diary form, but to date I have two that are tied. One was a woman who died in a bath tub (full of water) sitting in an upright position who we removed not immediately after her passing. Another one was a man who died in his bed, during the winter with the heat on (completely naked and under blankets) who wasn’t found until over a week after his death. Both super gnarly situations because the variables of heat and water are not forgiving on a human body after it’s functions have stopped. 

“How long have you been doing this?”

Not that long, less than a year. For death care it’s not a small amount though, the turnover rate at my company has been super high.

“Do you ever cry?”

In front of the family - I try not to unless I feel particularly bonded to them.

On my own time (perhaps on the way back to the funeral home with the deceased) - Yes, some situations are extremely pitiful.

On my own time - in my own apartment - Occasionally, especially if I’ve had to do a removal of an infant or child. 

“How do you decompress?”

I drink a glass of wine. I watch a lot of anime. I workout. I talk to my good friends who I work with. I’m also using this blog as a form of getting things off my chest.

“How does your SO feel about it?”

Well...He tells me with a kiss on the way out of the door to not bring any spirits home. He is very supportive and loves telling people his fiancé picks up dead people. He wonderfully listens to me decompress about the severe decomp I picked up at 2 am or the way a wound was splayed out in the center of a suicides forehead. He is a wonderful man and I love that he embraces my weird passion. 

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

The Attire.

A lot of people are surprised to see a woman working with dead people. It’s just one of those things that movies and shows don’t portray. I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but I don’t think that I’m the most ugly, and I think I surprise people from time to time when they’ve made the call that a loved one has died, and I’m the one who knocks on their door. I work late in the night, so seeing me at 2 am, dressed in all black and to the 9′s is a little bit out of the expected. I enjoy that. I like wearing that mask. 

A lot of people don’t die in a bed, and most of our population in the United States is overweight. So in essence my job involves a lot of heavy lifting and weird positions. (That’s why I named my blog  A Girl Who Dead Lifts *enter cheesy joke drum sound here*)

My nightly uniform includes dress slacks with a high waist and lots of stretch, a long sleeve button up tucked in to said high waist, blazer, and some low heel dress shoes of some sort. Occasionally on colder days I will wear a black sweater over the button up, beneath the blazer. All in black, all wonderfully thrifted, all fully functional and all pretty darn fashionable. Before this job I typically wore all black anyway, so it wasn’t a stretch to find work appropriate clothing.

I typically wear my hair down (it’s roughly shoulder length) but from time to time will pull it back if there’s a particularly tricky or fluid-y situation at hand. I don’t wear any jewelry except for the occasional plain earring, but I do wear a lite perfume. I want to be dressy but practical. I am a fairly fit young woman, but I’m moving people who are twice my size (and bigger) on a nightly basis. When they say the term “dead weight” it’s no joke. Dead people are heavy, and they don’t help you make the moving process any easier. One can only get so dressy in this situation.  

-S

[agirlwhodeadlifts]

An Introduction.

I’m a 26 year old woman who provides transport for the dead. The last place a person takes their breath can be anywhere - and the body has to be moved from that place to a funeral home so they can receive proper care.

That’s where I come in. I do removals from homes, nursing homes, morgues and medical examiner offices. Sometimes there are places between, and I provide removal from those locations as well. I work in a really big city on the west coast and I my shift is in fact of the graveyard variety. Midnight until noon are the hours of which you’ll find me, dressed to the 7′s (the 9‘s are a level that aren’t practical in my line of work) chauffering those who’ve passed on.

This blog is a way for me to document my experiences, and also make lite of a situation that makes 99 percent of the population uncomfortable. My job isn’t for everyone, but I find a huge honor (and some humor) in providing the last stages of care for those who have died. 

I hope you’ll find it enjoyable! 

-S