Yesterday afternoon I felt like a hamburger (funny, I didn’t look like one), and so walked over to the nearest place I could get one: the hospital cafeteria. It’s in the basement of our large inpatient facility, and the basement is a gloomy and disordered place. But the cafeteria food is cheap and pretty good.
As I walked down the corridor, I noticed an open door right before the entrance to the cafeteria, and peeked in. There were a bunch of people lying around on gurneys, covered with sheets, with their bare feet sticking out.
“That’s funny,” I thought. “Why would they have a surgery recovery room in the basement?” It’s not very pleasant down there, and the gurneys were scattered in every direction.
I went into the cafeteria next door, nommed a creditable hamburger, and then walked back to my office. The door to the gurney room was still open, and I looked in more closely. Suddenly it hit me: those people were not recovering; they were dead.
It was the morgue, or some waiting room for the morgue. The people were absolutely still, very, very white in color, and completely motionless. One had short red hair: was he a young man? And nobody was tending them. They reminded me of the line from Louis Armstrong’s “St. James Infirmary”:
“I went down to the St. James Infirmary
I saw my baby there,
She’s laid out on a cold white table,
So so cold, so white, so fair.”
I rarely see dead people—they’re whisked out of sight as fast as possible lest they remind us of our mortality—and this was distressing. But it was distressing for two other reasons. First, there’s the proximity of the morgue to the cafeteria: they are right next door to each other. And they leave the morgue door open. Who has an appetite after apprehending that scene?
More important, I feel for the loved ones and friends of those dead people. Who would want to know that their loves ones are on view to anyone who’s on their way to get a sandwich? Or that they’re lying unattended while people gobble their meals next door? Yes, dead is dead, but I wouldn’t have wanted my parents on view that way.
Note to the U of C hospital: could you please at least close the door?



