Rigor Mortis

One of the downsides of being a doctor is death. Namely, pronouncing someone dead. This was a privilege I was granted as an intern working in a mainly geriatric hospital. It takes on a whole different realm when you're the GP in a small town practice. Maori have some very distinct cultural practices when it comes to death. Once a body is identified and pronounced, the kaumatua (elders) will come in to bless the body, usually at the site of passing. During this time a death certificate is filled out releasing the body to the family. That's where I come in as the GP. Quite often the family want this done as quickly as possible so they can begin preparing the body. What this really means is that I can be called upon day or night to fill out a death certificate.

Imagine my surprise when a call was put through to my consultation room from a police officer informing me that one of my patients had died and did I have any information on next of kin. Unfortunately, the patient was new to the clinic and we didn't have all the details. This meant I had to identify the body. It was the middle of the afternoon and I couldn't leave. The next thing I know, I look out my window and see the funeral director's car pull into the parking lot and a police officer hop out and start walking toward the clinic door. I jump out of my chair, apologize to the patient with whom I was in the middle of a consult, and walk outside. The police officer then shows me the passport of my patient and hands me a form to sign declaring the patient deceased. At the same time, the funeral director opens the back end of the car and unzips the body bag so I can guarantee this is the right person and confirm lack of life. Suddenly two kaumatua appear, seemingly out of nowhere, to bless the body. In the middle of the carpark! (I later learned this was a big no-no.) Meanwhile (this is the middle of the afternoon, mind you), other live patients are walking through the carpark into the clinic.

Oh, but it doesn't end there. It was my impression when the police officer and funeral director left that they would bring back the death certificate for me to fill out. Oh, no. Apparently we have the certificates in our office and I was to fill one out and send it over to the funeral home. Unfortunately, no one told me that. Again, you can imagine my surprise when I got a frantic call from my office manager at 7pm asking if I'd filled out the death certificate. Uh, no. I was waiting for it to show up at the office. The next call I received was from the funeral director asking if I could go over to the office, find the certificate amongst the disorganization of paperwork, fill it out, and bring it over to him. Excuse me? By now it's almost 8:30 and the last thing I want to do is rifle through a bunch of paperwork looking for a certificate that I'm pretty sure I'm not going to find. Have you actually gotten in touch with the next of kin? Well, no. Do you really need me to fill out the death certificate before you embalm the body? Well, no. Okay then, I'll fill it out in the morning.

I can only imagine how this scenario will play out at two in the morning.