From 2003 to 2005 I worked as a draftsman-designer in architecture in Paris before I get fired for my behavior endemic to schizophrenia. I was able to work during these two years. I loved that work is always on site and no longer at the agency.
The first year I was led to work for the hospitals in Paris, notably the Institut Gustave Roussy, 2 levels of basement is reserved for funeral services. Autopsy room, cold room and presentations from the dead to families.
I spent a week. I saw a hundred dead, lying under sheets or in the cleaning room of corpses, or in open coffins. I was never scared because I grew up with death. It was very rewarding to work with.
face of these deaths (young, old, infants), seeing me ice, coroners and nurses nicknamed me "the cupboard". Indeed, nothing shocked me, I remained unmoved. Once, at -30 °, I sat for an hour in the dark, along with thirty corpses in order to immerse myself in this mortuary silence.
Mad? No, I just wanted to learn to face death with great back and it worked. Today, I'm not afraid to die. I grew up.
images come back to me sometimes, dead in their coffins or bedding found in cold rooms.
I confess that I was going to send me a couple of Calvados in the late afternoon before returning to the agency.
Death is part of life and these doctors have the faint of heart. Eternal respect.
Yours.
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