My interest in the medical field began in high school. Junior year to be exact. My anatomy class took a field trip to a chiropractic college to see a cadaver dissection. While we couldn’t get hands-on, I immediately took an interest in the topic of body donation and working in the medical field. (Side note: I have been meaning to write a post about my decision to donate my body. Hold me accountable.) It wasn’t until nearly six years after that class that I really began taking steps to make a career in health care a reality.

Long story short, in 2015 I enrolled in a 20-month radiography program—which is the reason why this blog has been quiet for so long. I graduated this past May and immediately began working. I purposely sought out part-time and temporary positions for a few reasons. One, because as a new grad, I had realistic expectations about my hireability (Is that a word?). Two, because I was interested in many modalities/settings and didn’t want to spend all of my time in just one. And finally, I hadn’t found the job yet.

But in July, I found it. The local morgue was looking for a part-time x-ray tech. I’m not talking hospital morgue. I mean the morgue that serves the second largest county (in terms of population) in the U.S. It was the least-desirable shift, but I had to apply. For years I had researched careers in forensic and pathology fields. I strongly considered going to medical school to become a medical examiner. I even toyed with the idea of mortuary school. I worked for an autopsy company and read dozens of books by pathologists, pathology assistants, crematorium and funeral directors, and so on. I had to get this job.

The tricky part was figuring out how to show my enthusiasm without coming across as creepy. I mean, I’d be working with dead bodies. No one should be that excited. But I really wanted this. I wanted it because I had to know if I was cut out to work in this field. I went in to interview, and at the end of it they asked if I wanted a tour. A tour of the morgue? Um, yes please. Unfortunately the autopsies had ended for the day, but I still got to see the rooms and the giant refrigerator where all the bodies are stored. I stood there asking question after question, trying to contain my excitement and solidify the fact that I’m most definitely a normal person with a very healthy curiosity.

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It turns out my questions didn’t scare them away because a few weeks later I was offered the job. It took weeks of background checks, medical screenings, and paperwork before I received my start date. In that time, my emotions ranged from excited to terrified to overjoyed to nervous to perplexed. I was happy that I had the job, but I was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to stomach it. Sure, I’ve worked with cadavers before and that never bothered me, but this is different. These people, some of whom have suffered horrific and tragic fates, are not embalmed. Not only that, but I’d work with bodies before they’re cleaned, before bullets have been removed, bodies that are in pieces or decomposing. What do bullet holes look like? What does a decomposing body smell like? Will I throw up? How will I emotionally handle murder and child abuse cases?

Panic set in. My anxiety took over and I began imagining every terrible scenario I could think of. Maybe I’d get locked in the body cooler. Or perhaps a body bag would start moving. I’d bump into the pathologist and mess up their autopsy. I’d vomit on the x-ray control board. Would I start questioning my own existence? If I see tragedy first-hand, would it weigh heavily on my soul? I thought I was ready, but the fear of the unknown had taken hold and there was no rationalizing it. I needed to get through my first day. I needed to smell the smells and see the sights. I wanted to see the worst of the worst so I’d know if this was something I could handle.

Ask and you shall receive. I’ll cover what my first week at the morgue looked like in my next post. Right now, I really need a shower because my hair smells like dead people.

**Unless specified (and granted permission) none of the pictures included in these posts are from my workplace. They’re found via Creative Commons.**