witchhunter

I don't know about y'all, but I seem to get flashes of meaning every now and then.
Like, last week I had to bag a patient and take them to the morgue, and as I was moving them from their bed to the morgue cart I had a flash.
I'm standing here with this thing cradled in my arms that only an hour ago was not a thing, but a person, a living breathing individual. Now there is just a body.
You really don't realize how much a body moves, untill it is truly still. Its like there are a thousand tiny machines inside, all vibrating and running to keep the blood flowing.
It is really strange to watch someone die, it really messes with my head.
I try to keep the living and dead patients separate in my mind, living to be cared for, comforted and entertained, dead to be carefully catalogued and stored with the kind of reverence one would show a rare book.
Watching someone die screws up my little separations, it forces me lump the living and the dead into one person.
I can't help thinking how cold it must be lying on a metal cart in a refridgerator.
Its hard not to ask them how they are doing, or join them in the inane small talk that seems so prevalent in the realm of the sick and the healers, the dying, and those who know that there is nothing they can do to help them.