She was breathing just an hour ago.
We wrote her goals for the day on the whiteboard:
Pain management, make as comfortable as possible.

We knew she was going through some post-surgery challenges
But we didn’t realize it’d be the last day she’d ever have goals on the board.
And I didn’t realize I’d be the last person to see her before she got zipped up in a bag.
And I didn’t realize I’d be the one to zip her up in the bag.
I don’t mean to be morbid, no.
But when I was eating my eggs and toast this morning, that wasn’t what I was thinking would be my day.

We don’t realize we’re walking around with these people all the time.
At the grocery store. Next to us in traffic.
That’s the person who’s going to clean your mother when she passes.
They’ll put the tag on her toe.
Yeah, it’s not just in the movies.
And you’d hope that in those last moments they have together, that they’ll take a moment and pray for her, and wish her well:
“Alright, Misses. God bless you.”
But we aren’t even sure if she was married.

The thing is, you walk into that room not expecting to find a cold body.
But with that coldness — you realize the life is gone.
And it’s surreal. Because it was just there.
She was just there.
And it’s your job to prep her to go downstairs.
But the patient in the next room is saying how they need more ice water, please.
And they have no idea what’s behind the curtain.
They have no idea the cold and stiffness you just felt from that lady’s hands.
They have no idea.
And you can’t process.
No, not now. There’s too much else.

In 8 years from now, you’ll go through these days like an afterthought.
But today, you realize the honor you have to be in that position.
To be the one responsible for removing her IVs, for draining her ports, for washing her body one last time.
Today you realize that everyone who has ever died had someone do that for them.
You realize it’ll be someone’s job to do that for you, too.
If you’re lucky enough.

You just hope they’ll take an extra moment to wish you well.
And to bow their head as they zip up that bag over your body.

There’s so much undercurrent. There’s so much we don’t see.
But if we saw, there’s so much respect. So much appreciation for such thankless work.
“It’ll change you,” she said.
It has to. Because it’s not sustainable otherwise.

After all, people die all the time.
It’s not that you're numb, but you have a job to do. And if you’re to survive, you need to be able to keep moving.
You need to be able to see that body as a unique living, breathing person one minute, and a lifeless body the next.
Documented and tracked almost like she were a piece of property.
Tagged like a piece of luggage at the airport, onto her next destination.
Only this traveler has a one-way ticket, and she’s never coming back.

“It’ll change you,” she said.
But no one really talks about that.