The sign in Latin above the door to the Canberra Hospital mortuary reads: Mortui Vivos Docent.
It means "the dead teach the living".
It's a centuries-old philosophy which sends a shudder through much of the population because in many cultures, death - at least what happens to us after we die - is a subject commonly shunned by polite society.
Except, of course, among the pathologists, clinicians, technicians and morticians who work with the dead every day.
The Canberra Hospital mortuary has a racked capacity for more than 36 adults in its two cold stores, where the temperature is set at a constant 4 degrees celsius. There are separate, very small cots for babies. In a matter-of-fact medical manner, the words "[put] head this way" are written in permanent marker on the stainless steel rack tops.
For those who die in the Canberra region, there are three general paths in which their mortal remains are directed.
Those bodies which are deemed to require a post-mortem (after death) medical examination are held at the ACT Forensic Medicine Centre in Phillip.
Like the Canberra Hospital, which is the biggest tertiary medical treatment facility in the southern NSW-ACT region, the Phillip facility accepts those deceased requiring examination from all around our region. In any circumstances where the cause or manner of death is undetermined - such as a murder, suicide or accidental death - the deceased are sent there.
The second path is that of those who die in hospital. These are people who die either in the public wards or National Capital Private wards in circumstances of an "expected death", where there are no uncertainties around the cause.
The third is those who die in palliative care, residential care or a hospice; these deceased are more often than not taken directly into the care of a funeral home.
The critical document is always the medical certificate for cause of death. If one is not issued, then this instigates further investigation.
That the dead should teach the living is entrenched within the mantra of every teaching hospital, and Canberra is no exception.
Proof is the two-roomed museum attached the hospital mortuary where racks of glass jars contain the pathology collection; various sections of human anatomy - some of which are most peculiar - for viewing by university medical students and even some year 12 science students intending to study medicine, or with an interest in anatomy. Admission is by private appointment only.
The dead have been teaching the living through the study of anatomical science for centuries. The so-called "father of anatomy" was the Greek physician Herophilus, who first began dissecting humans around 260 to 280 BC.
The ACT's ground floor mortuary is, as expected, a world away from the hustle and bustle of the general hospital.
There's no odd smell, it doesn't have a public digital space nor even a web address. This is most curious given there are inevitably many questions, often completely prosaic ones, around processes and expectations when a loved one dies while in hospital.
Instead there's an ACT government-published booklet When Someone Dies which seems to leave as many questions as answers.
Again, it seems our cultural squeamishness on this subject matter continues long after our bodies cool. It's such an oddity that in 2023, millions of Australians are prepared to make the minutiae of their lives so public facing on places like social media - for some, to the extent of embarrassment - but in death, the language always retreats to guarded and careful.
However, the two women who stroll about the mortuary in their scrubs and accept the bodies prepped and brought down to them from the hospital wards, supervisor Jessica Puniard, 31, and her assistant Belinda Brooker, 28, are disarmingly both caring and matter-of-fact about the matter.
They receive sealed and unsealed bodies into their care.
Aside from the physical processes involved in preparing bodies, physically moving them around the mortuary and storing them away, there's much paperwork to be completed, too, including the cremation certificate checklist . This is to ensure volatile devices, such as a cardioverter-defibrillator which contains a lithium battery that would explode under high temperature, are recorded.
Those deceased that are sealed up in body bags with tamper-proof tags may even arrive for temporary storage with a police escort to protect the chain of evidence. These bodies can't be released to relatives and family without permission of the coroner.
The rest are processed and if necessary, prepared for viewing.
The viewing room is small with a bed and chairs where family members can pay their respects one final time. Unlike the rest of the working mortuary, this is a place of soft furnishings, flowers and soft lighting, the body covered in a sheet and laid out on a bed.
And, yes, the mortuary technicians do talk to the dead, usually to apologise.
"If we are moving a deceased person and we bump them, we always say, 'Sorry'. It sounds odd, I know, but it always feels like the right thing to do," Ms Brooker said.
Death and grief are constant companions and countless tears have been shed in the mortuary's tiny viewing room over the years. Sometimes so many relatives want to attend they have to be rotated through the room in shifts.
And there are complexities depending on the faith of the deceased, too. The Islamic faith, for instance, requires a ritual washing and draping of the deceased. Volunteers from the Islamic Society of Canberra are trained to perform the ritual ghusi of the dead body.
"We allow families as much time as they need," Ms Puniard said.
"Respect and kindness is what we offer people here, for the living and the dead. Every day is different. No two are the same."
Both technicians readily admitted there were some cases that "get to them" emotionally, but counselling is readily available to them when they need it.
Neither of the two women saw the role of mortuary technician as a career and arrived through different pathways, one starting out as a pathology collector and having an interest in anatomy and the human body and working in a funeral home, the other through forensics study and working with the coroner's office.
And of course, the downside is out in public, talking about work can be a conversation-killer, so they generally tend to avoid it.
"We both see this role as a privilege," Ms Puniard said.
"It's important and necessary work."
