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The Boy
I stare at the artwork of bright yellow, red, and blue that my children created with finger paint. This picture of their hands hangs on the wall of my office. It is an image of playfulness and youth. Meditatively rocking in my leather swivel chair, I savor the steam from a freshly brewed cup of…
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Flies
The beauty of the adult fly belies its immature state. Fully developed blow flies are pollinators, drawn to the aroma of food or flowers. Their larvae are scavengers of necrotic tissue. Those of us who wield the swatter with murderous venom sense the disgusting childhood of these nuisance bugs.
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Home
Opening the wrapping, I saw two severed arms in the package. Their pale white skin speckled with tiny yellow bumps. Chipped coral polish, inexpertly applied, was visible on the fingernails, bitten to the quick. An aroma of astringent emanated from the limbs along with a sour smell.
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The Morgue
The bleak, gray foyer matched the concrete stone of the outside foundation. A plaque on the wall read, “Let conversation cease. Let laughter flee. Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae. This is the place where death delights to help the living.”
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Stairwell
A crowd gathered outside as Joe watched through a grimy kitchen window. People huddled in groups of twos and threes facing a deserted apartment building. Joe scanned the area then checked the time on the microwave—7:00 a.m. Folks were getting ready to leave for work. He didn’t recognize most of them; he had moved to…
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Death as My Colleague
My mother was diagnosed with terminal metastatic pancreatic cancer two months prior to her demise. The moment her internist palpated her liver edge during an abdominal exam I knew the prognosis. The enlarged liver meant the disease had already spread.
Final Words: Reflections of a Forensic Pathologist
