Catrina
An essay I wrote won Honorable Mention in a writing contest sponsored by Writers Digest!
The essay is about my first death scene investigation as an Army Pathologist, during my rotation at the ME office in San Antonio.
CATRINA
September, 1991, San Antonio, Texas.
It was a familiar story: an elderly widow in a retirement community whose mail was stacking up, and who hadn’t been seen for three days. I was on my medical examiner rotation in the final months of pathology residency and was accompanying staff from the ME’s office to observe death scene investigations. Death was no stranger to me, but before it had always come freshly gowned from the wards or Emergency Room. This time I was to see death au naturel.
The super’s knock at her door was answered by silence, and I took a deep breath as he let us in. The sweet smell of decay hit us as we entered, the odor declaring we were at the right address. I was grateful the apartment was air-conditioned. We found her in the bedroom propped up against the headboard. Her gray face was mottled and there was a small, blood-ringed hole through her frilly, pink nightgown over the left breast. The .38 revolver lying beside her told us all we needed to know to complete our investigation, or so I thought.
You can read the full essay on my website at:
https://bharperauthor.com/2018/09/17/...
The essay is about my first death scene investigation as an Army Pathologist, during my rotation at the ME office in San Antonio.
CATRINA
September, 1991, San Antonio, Texas.
It was a familiar story: an elderly widow in a retirement community whose mail was stacking up, and who hadn’t been seen for three days. I was on my medical examiner rotation in the final months of pathology residency and was accompanying staff from the ME’s office to observe death scene investigations. Death was no stranger to me, but before it had always come freshly gowned from the wards or Emergency Room. This time I was to see death au naturel.
The super’s knock at her door was answered by silence, and I took a deep breath as he let us in. The sweet smell of decay hit us as we entered, the odor declaring we were at the right address. I was grateful the apartment was air-conditioned. We found her in the bedroom propped up against the headboard. Her gray face was mottled and there was a small, blood-ringed hole through her frilly, pink nightgown over the left breast. The .38 revolver lying beside her told us all we needed to know to complete our investigation, or so I thought.
You can read the full essay on my website at:
https://bharperauthor.com/2018/09/17/...
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