Ned Lafferty led me from that place, a warm figure trying
to negate the coldness I had experienced. My legs could just
about carry me as I emerged, crushed, from the morgue. I
walked robot-like to complete the formalities of the postmortem, and I still feel angry at what followed. I am still
conscious of the formality of that interview with the
pathologist who asked me various questions for his records.
Did he not realise that I was traumatised? Could he not have
summoned some brief expression of sympathy even if he did
not mean it? Of course, I realise that doctors cannot allow
themselves to be subject to the sadness they witness every day.
It would be overwhelming and non-productive. But surely
some small expression of sympathy, some acknowledgement
of the pain experienced by the individual, would not be too
much to ask for. It would have made it easier for me as I
answered his questions about Cathal. At a three-day seminar
on bereavement in Ballinasloe some years afterwards, I met
other bereaved people who felt as I did. I really hope that
nowadays the human element as well as the professional is
considered in the training of medical people.
Extract from When a Child Dies. Footsteps of a Grieving Family. Published by Veritas.
Tags: bereavement, death of a child, grief