Sunday best to display as if the person were still alive? Ironically, in nearly every case of someone who dies over the age of seventy-five, the family is very satisfied with the appearance of the deceased.
A young person, however, presents the ultimate grief experience to his or her family, which is often compounded by a need for extensive restoration, since young people tend to die tragically. A face that has been bludgeoned, smashed, traumatized, burned, lacerated, or exposed to the ravages of cancer presents a challenge too, regardless of how sharp the funeral director’s skills may be. There is no greater sense of helplessness than needing to tell a mother and father that their son or daughter cannot be viewed because of too much disease or damage, not enough body parts, too many days in the July sun, or too many weeks of lying in a river.
Summer heat results in a body that turns on itself. Stomach acids and gases erode and destroy the body from the inside out. Once maggots develop, the body can be reduced to a skeleton in a matter of days. Too much time submerged in deep water creates similar decomposition problems, with a greater incidence of bloating and discoloration, which often results in a closed casket.
If any semblance of the person’s face is present, however, then restoration can take place. Time-tested methods can repair even blunt-force trauma from an auto accident. Lacerations are secured with superglue, rather than sewn, which leaves a raised trail from the thread. Broken facial bones are pushed back into place and wired together. Large holes from rearview mirrors, radio knobs, gearshift levers, turn-signal stalks, and windshield glass can be filled with wax and reshaped like the former contours of the face. Lips, orbital bones, and even eyeballs can be fashioned from wax. Eyebrows, eyelashes, and facial hair can be harvested from the back of the deceased’s head and then inserted into soft wax in the appropriate areas.
However, a body run over by a train, caught in an explosion, hit by a shotgun blast, killed in a plane crash, or burned in a fire is generally a hopeless case. Burned beyond recognition is a lost cause; there is only a black skeleton to work with. I have attempted a facial reconstruction in such a situation, and with poor results. Working from a photo, I have constructed a face and all its features from wax; filled clothing with cotton to simulate chest, arms, and abdomen; and even attached white gloves to the cuffs of a blouse so that hands appeared present—not a very natural appearance, but close enough for the family to derive some sort of closure from a devastating loss.
Once I discovered the utility of plaster of Paris, restoring large defects of the head became simpler. A young man I cared for recently had been attempting to discover the object that was obstructing the travel of a large hydraulic press at an automotive parts production facility. He placed his head inside the press, and unfortunately, the press engaged and flattened his head to the shape of a pancake.
After embalming the lower portion of the body, I set out to repair his head. The press had caused massive scalp and facial tears, so I knew there would be a great deal of superglue involved. I used my gloved hand to push wet plaster of Paris into the area that was once his mouth, and amazingly enough, the plaster expanded as it dried. I continued to push the material into the defect until it completely popped his features back into an almost- normal position. I was then able to glue the multiple lacerations and apply cosmetics to eventually achieve a very natural appearance.
During summer months, there are increased cases not only of rapid decomposition as a result of drownings but also of people who happen to die alone at home and are not discovered for several days. With severe decomposition, the skin slips off the body, bloating occurs, and the tremendously offensive odor does not allow for normal viewing. In years past, a formaldehyde-based chemical was poured over the body to mask the odor, but even that could not completely eliminate the smell.
A funeral director employer of mine from many years ago introduced me to the positive effects of agricultural lime. Lime is the white drying agent familiar to those who watch Mafia-themed movies, where hit men bury dispatched victims in shallow graves and then cover the bodies with a hundred pounds of lime. Because lime rapidly absorbs any liquids, in the case of a decomposing human body, it eliminates those odiferous liquids; thus, the body is less likely to be discovered. In this day and age, however, skeletal remains can still be identified.
As a farmer, this man had poured lime into the graves of dead livestock and rightly assumed that the same treatment would suffice for humans. Before the deceased is placed in a normal casket or cremation container, a bed of lime eight inches deep is poured into the casket. The deceased is then placed on top of the initial bed of lime, and then completely covered with additional lime. This process requires two fifty-pound bags, which eliminate the odor within minutes. I have also used lime with wonderful results on decubitus ulcers (bedsores) and other odor problems. Other funeral directors in my area have called to inquire about how to handle agricultural lime in a funeral home setting.
Many years ago, I embalmed the body of a twenty-two-year-old man who had been hit by a passing freight train. Luckily, he was killed instantaneously on impact. But the engine did not pass over his body; he was flung alongside the tracks. Since this occurred back in the 1970s, long before the days of obligatory lawsuits, an autopsy was not performed. The county coroner correctly determined at the scene that this was an accidental death.
But since this man carried no identification, I embalmed the body and held it. Three weeks went by, with several visits from grieving parents of missing sons, all deeply torn. Their pain was excruciating to watch. Might we now bury our long-lost boy and perhaps derive some sort of closure? Or do we pray that this body is not really his?
Although facial features were still clearly recognizable, formaldehyde gray was making its presence known. I had liberally applied a massage cream to retain tissue pliability, and I soon decided to add paste cosmetics to mask the impending changes.
Identification finally came five weeks later. A trembling father had seen flyers published in his local newspaper. His son had stormed out after a disagreement over farm chores. He was ultimately identified by his unique work boots—and a missing ring finger from an earlier tractor accident on his dad’s property.
Another time, I removed the body of a young man from underneath a school bus he had been repairing. The jacks supporting the bus had failed, and the rear dual wheels crushed him. Unfortunately, he was working alone during the noon hour when other mechanics had left for lunch. When his coworkers returned, they made a horrific discovery. The man had been underneath the bus for at least an hour, and another hour or so had passed before my arrival—ample time for nature’s effects, such as the gathering of flies. I brought him back to the funeral home to begin the embalming process and noticed some tiny fly larvae in the corner of his mouth and the corner of one eye. I brushed them aside and thought nothing more of it.
After meeting with the young man’s mother the next day to make the funeral arrangements, she requested that she view her son immediately, even before he was dressed and placed in his casket. I asked her to join me back at the funeral home in two hours. Thank goodness I granted myself the extra time.
When I went into the preparation room, I was aghast. When I looked at the man’s face, it appeared to be moving. With a pair of tweezers I pulled open his mouth and found it full of slimy, squirming maggots. I dipped cotton into liquid formaldehyde and pushed it inside, but it had little effect on those rascals, and being a novice in the funeral business at that time, I was at a loss as to my next move. I called my more experienced older brother. He sagely informed me that, since maggots have a slimy coating, only kerosene would cut through it to kill them. So that’s what I used.
Time can be an issue when organ donation is a factor. Tissue banks from around the country are becoming more aggressive in their quests to acquire hearts, lungs, kidneys, skin, eyes, ears, bones, and other harvestable human body parts. Many hospitals’ death-reporting forms even include spaces for families to check whether they wish the tissue retrieval organization to be contacted.
I happen to be a big fan of organ donation. An unbelievable amount of good has come from it, and we all might need a new part or two someday. Young people involved in accidents who are brain dead are ideal candidates for donating their organs. Their bodies are kept alive for transplantation once family members say good-bye and grant their permission. I am quite surprised, however, that even elderly bones are in demand. Apparently, they can be crushed into a fine powdery mix and used in knee-replacement surgery.
My only problem with tissue donation is the lack of expediency. Educating the public and making funeral directors and families keenly aware of the Tissue Bank’s valuable service is all well and good, but when the time comes to actually remove the needed tissue, it takes too long. I have had to wait more than a day on several occasions before I could retrieve a body to start the funeral process, and embalming is more difficult after the body has been kept in a hospital cooler for several hours.
