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Suicide Makes me Hungry

DISCLAIMER: Everything written in this blog is true and is based solely on my experiences as a police officer.  This blog does not reflect all other law enforcement viewpoints or experiences.

 

When I went through the police academy I received training on how to deal with suicidal subjects, but there was not a whole lot of training on how to deal with successful suicides.  I mean I got the generic training on how to change the scene from suicide to crime scene until the detectives show up to investigate, but there wasn’t a whole lot o training telling us new recruits about some of the side effects we would feel.  I was warned I would feel detached, sad, angry, etc… but I was not warned about other factors.  One of them being hunger.  It seems that every time I go to a successful suicide or a dead body call, by the time it is over I am starving.  I cannot explain why, but it is the truth.

 

One night I was working the late shift and a shots fired call kicks out over the radio.  As I am responding to the call dispatch advises a woman had just shot herself in the head while sitting at her computer desk.  So I take off lights and siren and get to the call with two other officers.  There is a woman standing out front with a group of women and children and they are all freaking out.  We go running in and there is a woman sitting at a computer desk with her feet propped up on the desk, an empty 5th of vodka is sitting on the desk and she has a handgun in her right hand.  The woman’s eyes are closed, her head is tilted back and she looks like she is gasping for breath.  I walk over to her and am about to see if she is ok, then I notice the large puddle of blood and brains on the floor.  Oh, boy, I think she is dead, but she is still gasping.  I look over my shoulder and see a bunch of  family members standing around watching and waiting for us to do something.  Well, I can’t tell them forget it the woman is going to die, but I know it is futile to even try.  But, “Officer Eager” rookie who was on scene was all too willing to try and save her, so my dilemma was solved.  Officer eager comes running over and skids right through the gruesome puddle on the carpet and falls in it.  Yuck!!!  But, better he than I, right?  So, while Officer Eager is bust picking himself up out of the goo, I decide to be a brave officer and move some of the family room furniture out of the way in order to make room on the floor for the woman so Officer Eager can perform CPR.  While I am clearing furniture out of the way, a seasoned officer comes in, sees the woman on the floor and immediately joins in to try and save this already dead and no chance of revival lady.  Officer Seasoned must not notice the large puddle or the gaping hole in the side of the poor woman’s head.  Officer Seasoned gets out his pocket CPR mask, and just as he is about to place it over the woman’s mouth, Officer Eager does a chest compression.  Well, the woman had blood in her mouth and as soon as Officer Eager did a chest compression, blood spattered out of her mouth and sprayed OfficeR Seasoned who was leaning over the woman trying to apply the pocket mask.  Well, all attempts for CPR were abandoned when Officer Seasoned started freaking out from the blood on his mouth and face, and Officer Eager started freaking out, hell I was freaking out, how disgusting!  Thank God, by this time, the family had been moved out of the house and did not witness any of this keystone cop stuff.  But, unfortunately the fire department was walking in right at this time and they saw everything.  Once they finally took over they hooked the woman up to a heart monitor and declared her DRT.  (Dead Right There)

 

Well, after everything was said and done you would have expected some sadness and grief, well I felt bad for the family, but man I was starving and the first thing the officers on scene asked each other was, “What’s for lunch?”  Not pasta or anything with marinara sauce!  For some reason hunger and death go hand in hand.  That explains why food is served after funerals. 

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