Back briefly to the day the body was here, the coroners tell me that I will hear from them with a report and once that’s done I can register the death. Forgot to mention that we also had the police here too, if somebody dies at home they have to come to ensure there’s no foul play. Greeting them at the door with “Ello Ello Ello” probably wasn’t appropriate nor was “there were times when I could have killed him but I didn’t”. I wonder seriously about how my brain works at the best of times as it sure is not great at the worst. They were quite happy that I’d not murdered him thankfully and didn’t check my cupboards for anti freeze or arsenic. They did however make yet more cups of tea……….I could have filled the local swimming baths 10 times over in the amount of tea that got made.
So, several days pass and not a peep from the coroners. The GP call’s in a panic;
GP: We’re trying to locate Mr……….
Me: Erm, he’s dead, why, did he miss an appointment?
GP: No, we know he’s dead and we’re sorry for your loss, but we need to go and see the body to issue the paperwork you require to register the death.
Me: I was told to wait for the coroners to get back to me, they took him off in the black ambulance, I think they said there would be an autopsy.
GP: Okay, will call and find out where.
A couple of hours later the GP rings back in yet a more panicked state as they now cannot FIND the body. I secretly wonder if he’s gone to Norfolk and tell them that I never knew where he was at the best of times so how on earth would I know now other than where ever he is he’s not going much further. They promise to “find” him and get back in touch.
More time passes and another phone call, “we’ve located him”. Excellent news I say, how is he and then realise that’s a very silly thing, yet again, to say. They proceed to read details out which make no sense whatsoever. After about 3 minutes I realise that they’ve definitely located “somebody” but it’s most definitely not the right body, it’s not even the right colour or nationality. More panic ensues from their end. I point out at this point that there is really only one large hospital in the area so he’s pretty obviously in a chiller cabinet somewhere and would they like me to come and perhaps point out who is who and have a dig about because I could actually get the right person, also that as his GP she should remember what he looks like as she’s seen him enough.
For some reason I cannot stop laughing, I have this strange idea that he’s playing a sort of dead mans hide and seek as he was a bugger for just going off where he wanted when he wanted so even in death the sod’s managed to vanished. Briefly think about texting to ask him where he is but then remember that A. He doesn’t have his phone on him and B. He can’t text back. Check fridge, there’s some wine left, hurrah, pour a small glass and get the giggles again as this seems like something out of a soap opera.
Twiddle fingers, have a smoke and wonder how everyone can be so inept. If I’d have known I’d have got one of small person’s Sharpie Pen’s and written his name, DOB and address on his forehead so they’d know.
Nearly 5 hours later they find him, so they say, and all the relevant paperwork is done and sorted. Cause of death is stated as “Cancer”. Phew, I’m definitely off the hook then 😉 . I know it’s the cancer that got to him but “cause of final breath in my living room” was his heart giving up. As Celine Dion sing’s about it going on, his just couldn’t anymore.
Ring his father to just “quickly” let him know that we can register the death now and end up having to endure a 2 hour conversation, this time I get to hear about one of his testicles (honestly!) that is now about 4 times the size it should be. I’m no longer sure if I should laugh, cry or drink more wine…………