Well, I don't have to worry about humiliating myself by relaying my Saturday escapades with Dead Guy to people at work.
Why? Because when I was driving home from the grocery store tonight I got a call from my boss, Nancy.
I answer the phone, "Hey, lady boss. How are ya?"
"Shitty." (It's a quote, Mom.) "I dropped a body and I can't get him up."
"You mean he's fallen and he can't get up?" I snigger.
"Uh..yeah." Nancy obviously has no sense of humor right now. "Is there any way you can come over here and help me?"
I lament the melting ice cream in my trunk. "Sure. No problem. Give me five minutes."
I sigh as I get off the phone and turn the car around.
When I get to the MEO I flash the magnetic strip of my ID card across a security pad to open the bay door. I walk through the receiving area and onto the hated ramp that leads to the autopsy suite/cooler. Nancy is there at the bottom along with her charge.
As I assess the situation I quickly note that there is a law of physics that was seriously violated here. I'm not sure which one, but it will definitely be rubbing it's arse for a while after this fiasco.
Dead Guy has an enormous belly and chicken legs. He also weighs upwards of 325 pounds. When you try to maneuver a guy of those proportions down a steep ramp with his hefty end first, well...it's gonna end badly.
Dead Guy is still securely strapped onto the cot. Only the cot is now tipped up on one end so his head is on the floor and his feet are up in the air. Oh, dear.
Nancy's eyes are a little wild. She looks like she's on the brink of doing something unfortunate. She says to me..."There's a lesson here. Don't EVER put the heavy end in front when you're moving a body down this ramp." I try with every fiber of my being not to laugh. Yeah. Just FYI.
First Nancy and I both get up on the foot side of the upturned cot and bounce on the bar between the wheels. No good. Between the two of us we weigh maybe 250 pounds. It doesn't even budge.
Next, we lower the wheels on one side, but because of the angle, the wheels on the heavy side are stuck. The only way to "unstick" them is to put Dead Guy further up on his head and pull the legs of the cot in so that we have him prone on the floor.
This works and now all we have to do is use our brute strength to lift the Dead Guy from the floor to an upright position suitable for transferring him onto a tray. Nancy gets her end up okay, but I am apparently a 98 pound (or so) weakling because I need help getting my end (the feet, no less) up.
I resolve to go to the gym three days a week, at least, and lift weights.
Anyway, we get him up and eventually on the tray. Nancy opens the bag to see what kind of damage was done to Dead Guy after being dropped on his head and then left that way for a half hour, give or take.
His head is rather purple seeing as gravity sent the majority of his deoxygenated blood supply to his head. The good news is there is no visible head fracture, though he did bite into his tongue...which resulted in some external bleeding.
Nancy is positively distraught. "Great. Dr. Frank is going to love hearing about this. 'Um... Dr. Frank, you may find some head trauma...just...you know... It's postmortem so... No big deal, right?'"
I laugh despite myself. "Nancy, are you being sarcastic?" She appears to want to hit me, but I poke the angry bear despite my better judgement. "Hey, I don't see him complaining." She narrows her eyes.
I decide to give some sage advice. "Nancy, we are all going to drop bodies in life...It's what you do AFTER you drop the body that determines the kind of person you are."
I run before I get smacked upside the head.