By D. Brian Burghart

Death.

It's the great equalizer and your one guarantee in life. (If you think taxes are in the running, you need a new accountant) Hospitals could couple of blank lines on birth certificates for date and manner of death. It's the one secret that everybody who experiences it keeps.

There doesn't seem to be an alternative.

Yet, what do we know about our particular way of death?

Not much. And there are reasons for that

There is, in fact, a wall of silence surrounding death and the death industry, and the funeral parlors in Reno offer few exceptions to this rule. For instance, most cemeteries will not let you take a picture of an empty grave (let alone one with a body in it), funeral directors ignore repeated phone calls, salespeople literally begin to shake when a reporter walks into the room—it seems that operators would rather use their own services than talk about what they do.

"Death is something people just don't want to deal with," says Dave Walters, owner and director of Reno Memorial Funeral Service. "It's one of the last out-of-sight, out-of-mind businesses. You only hear about it when there is a problem."

And that's the problem—everybody is curious about what goes on after they're gone, but nobody really wants to go through the trouble of finding out. This guide to the inevitable is offered in the interest of helping to break down the walls of silence surrounding the death industry, and in the hopes that you'll start planning for the one thing you know is coming.

The Big D
Our bodies experience death every moment of every day. Skin cells die and slough off and form dust bunnies under the sofa. Technically, hair and fingernails are "dead." The human organism—in fact, all organisms—live off death, be they plant or animal.

It's a cruel world, the little fishies get eaten by the bigger fishies, who in turn get eaten by bigger fishies, and people know and accept this on a certain level.

It's a cruel world, the little fishies get eaten by the bigger fishies, who in turn get eaten by bigger fishies, and people know and accept this on a certain level.

It's total human shutdown, or somatic death, that gives us the heebie jeebies.

There are three interdependent systems in the body that, if one fails, cause the death of the body. They are the nervous system, the heart and the respiratory system. It's like this: the heart or lungs give out, oxygen-rich blood stops circulating, critical cells begin to die out.

That's when the party starts.

Acids our bodies are designed to cope with get free rein. Friendly microbes turn on the flesh like rabid coyotes, munching away at their own life-support systems. This is called decomposition, putrefaction or rot.

The good news is that when the main course, your body, is finished, the turncoats have nothing left to eat and they die, too. That's the way the world goes round.

The bad news is you don't get to experience any of it—you're dead!

Once the clock stops ticking, the body starts to cool. Blood finds its lowest point; if you are on your back, it flows there. If you happen to be sitting, it goes to your feet. This is called livor mortis, or post-mortem stain (so called because of the purplish stain where the blood has settled). It takes a body about 40 hours to reach room temperature, which is how coroners can estimate the time of death.

The reason insensitive people might call you a stiff is because, eight to 12 hours after you kick the bucket, your muscles become inflexible. This is called rigor mortis. It starts in the face and works its way down. It is so extreme, a body can be picked up like a board. The jaw muscles tighten so that, almost invariably, the mouth is pulled open.

Not to worry. Your embalmer can break up rigor mortis by massaging your muscles and manipulating your joints. Once it's gone, it's gone. Even without the massage, the condition generally disappears after three or four days, which is cool, since you have plenty of other problems to deal with, like being dead in the first place.

All Dressed Up, No Place To Go
You'd think with all this death stuff going on—friends and family members grieving, fighting over your effects, or just getting you out of the house—you'd have enough to worry about. Sorry.

Unless you were far-sighted before your number came up, there are a lot of decisions to be made, and don't forget: Fun and funeral have more in common than three letters. For one thing, they are both expensive. There are reasons the Federal Trade Commission says your funeral is the third largest expense you'll ever have.

Do you even want a funeral? Open or closed casket? Embalming? Cremation? Memorial? Make-up? Flowers? Can someone else use your body or organs? How much is all this stuff going to cost?!

That's a lot for a dead guy to think about.

Unfortunately, from your distanced perspective, you don't get to make the decisions. The people most likely to be overwrought at your death, your spouse and children, are making them.

"It's a tough time for people," says Walters, nailing home the point that people are at their most vulnerable when someone they love passes away. "I could do a $10,000 funeral, but it's pretty much a waste of money. Money is for the living."

At any rate, let's assume that after a long, lingering illness, you die in the hospital. It's up to the hospital or attending physician to notify the next of kin and after notification, the hospital or family calls a funeral home to come and pick the body up and put it into cold storage.

(Notice now that you're dead, the pronoun "you" has been transformed to "it," a nicety dictated by the AP stylebook. In the interest of literary devices, this story will continue to refer to your body as "you.")

Choosing which funeral home is strictly up to the family, says Kerri Garcia, media relations coordinator at Washoe Medical Center. The center will provide a list of homes to choose from, but sometimes it's hard to find a family member to make the decision, in which case the center refers the deceased to Washoe County Health Department. In cases like that (hope you don't mind languishing), Washoe Medical Center wants to know whom to bill, and, according to Garcia, it "could be weeks, could be days" before they find the next of kin.

The funeral business in Reno is sewn up by two groups: Ed McCafferty owns Walton's funeral homes, O'Brien-Rogers & Crosby Funeral Home, Northern Nevada Cremation Society and Burial Society, and John Sparks Memorial Cremations. Service Corporation International, the largest conglomerate of funeral homes in the world, owns Ross-Burke & Knobel Mortuaries and Telophase. Reno Memorial Cremation & Burial Society is the new operation on the block and the area's only independent outfit.

Although each state has its own rules, funeral homes and mortuaries in Nevada are regulated by the Nevada State Board of Funeral Directors and Embalmers and by the Federal Trade Commission. They are required by law to give price lists and are by far the most expensive way to go. Just a peek at a price list will give an idea of the cost and will give every impetus to those considering pre-planning.

Unless you were far-sighted before your number came up, there are a lot of decisions to be made, and don't forget: Fun and funeral have more in common than three letters. For one thing, they are both expensive.

The first charge on the list is called either minimum or basic services. At Walton's Funeral Home, it includes "staff to respond to initial request for service: arrangement conference with family or responsible party; arrangement of funeral; preparation and filing of necessary authorizations and permits; recording vital statistics; preparation and placement of obituary notices; staff assistance prior to, during and following the funeral, including coordination with those providing other portions of the funeral, e.g., cemetery, crematory and others. Also included in these charges are overhead expenses relative to our facility such as insurance, maintenance and utility expenses secretarial and administrative costs, and equipment and inventory costs."

The grand total for just the basics? At Walton's, it's $1,620. O'Brien-Rogers & Crosby gets $1,470. Ross, Burke & Knobel get $965 as soon as they roll you in. At Reno Memorial, it's $325.

"We make money charging $325," says Walters in regard to the lower price at Reno Memorial. "It's not like I'm spending any money, and you're not buying any goods or services. It's just time. We do everything ourselves. We have lower overhead and fewer employees."

What if you want more than just the basics? Let's say you want a traditional open-casket funeral with burial. Here's the breakdown according to Walton's price list: The transfer of your remains to the funeral home is $200; embalming $400; cosmetology $300, refrigeration $150, facilities and staff for viewing $140; facilities and staff for funeral ceremony or memorial service $275; equipment and staff for graveside service $140, equipment and staff for church service $165 (if you have the in-store service, you won't need this), the ride to the cemetery $250, limo ride for the family to the cemetery $125. Walton's caskets run $1,595 to $5,000, average $3,297.50. The total (including the $1,620 basic charge) is $5,277.50.

And you're not even planted yet.

"A plot in a Washoe County cemetery can cost $800 to $1,300," says John Lawton, owner of Sierra Memorial Gardens. If you want to be entombed in a mausoleum, he says you can spend $3,000 to, $12,000. Headstones or memorial markers can cost $500 to $20,000, depending on the ostentatiousness of the marker.

Cold Meat Injection
Embalming is not required in Nevada, except in certain cases. However, if your next of kin wants an open-casket funeral—or doesn't know any better—you're going to get it.

You should be aware, embalming is not forever. Its design is to get your body through the funeral and into the ground before it starts to stink. It's only good for three to five days and it's fairly pricey, about $300-$400, so it might not be for everyone.

There are three reasons for embalming claimed by the funeral industry: arresting disease to protect the living, temporary preservation of the corpse, and providing mourners with closure—the human animal grieves easier and shorter if it has viewed the deceased.

The embalming room at the O'Brien-Rogers & Crosby Funeral Home, 600 W. Second St., is doctor's-office sterile, tastefully decorated (simplicity is always elegant), and has two slanted tables, the use of which is apparent on first glance. Add a couple of sinks, a floor drain, a counter over stacked drawers and that's about all there is to it. There is a distinct smell of disinfectant.

State law prohibits anyone but an embalmer, a certified apprentice embalmer, or a public official acting in the course of duty to be present when someone is embalmed, according to Paul Chambers, director of the O'Brien-Rogers & Crosby funeral home.

As mysterious as the law would have embalming remain, it's a simple two-step process. First, your blood is removed and replaced with preservative chemicals like formaldehyde. Second, visceral fluids in the body cavity are removed and replaced with chemicals.

Now that didn't hurt a bit.

Once your next of kin has decided on the open-casket option, the embalmer goes into inaction, washing your body with disinfectant soap and sterilizing you,massaging your face and limbs to remove rigor mortis, sewing your mouth shut, setting your eyelids (lower lid one-third up the eye, upper meeting, but not overlapping, the lower), shaving your face (if male), packing your orifices so they don't leak, positioning you body so you head is elevated 15 degrees and tilted to the right, and placing you hands left over right in a natural pose.

First, your blood is removed and replaced with preservative chemicals like formaldehyde. Second, visceral fluids in the body cavity are removed and replaced with chemicals. Now that didn't hurt a bit.

The embalmer then selects an insertion point (either the right or left carotid artery, or the right or left femoral artery) in which to inject the preserving chemical. He cuts a hole at the selected point and cuts into the artery or vein with a tool called a canula. The embalming machine, which is essentially a formaldehyde pump, is then attached to the canula. As the preserving fluid is injected into the vascular system, it forces the blood out of the body and down a drain in the floor. According to Chambers, who prefers to make the incision over the clavicle into the carotid artery, the process takes one-half to several hours.

After the arteries and veins are filled with formaldehyde, it's up to the embalmer to remove whatever gases and fluids are in your abdominal cavity. He sticks a tool, called a trocar through the abdominal wall and into the cavity and then sucks out whatever undesirables he may find, filling the area with a formaldehyde-based preservative.

After the embalming is over, they give you another sterilizing bath and leave you for the beautician, who does your hair, applies cosmetics and dresses you in what is probably the best suit you ever wore.

Don't you feel better?

If, on the other hand, all this makes you a little squeamish, fear not. In the age of freon, embalming is becoming a thing of the past.

"It's an outdated practice," says Walters. "Refrigeration accomplishes what embalming used to. You can refrigerate a body for six or eight months and then have a viewing."

Bake & Shake
Fear of the eternal flame is not an unusual occurrence for the newly departed, depending on your religious beliefs and behavior pre-demise. However, for cost-cutting corpses, cremation is the ticket.

In Nevada, cremation has become the favorite way of death, at 63 percent and rising. In Washoe County in 1995, there were 2,795 deaths, and of these, 1,765 were cremated, compared to 615 burials. (For those keeping count, 390 bodies were moved out of state, 24 became anatomical donations and the fate of one was unknown.)

There are two major reasons cremation has gained in popularity.

It's simple and it's cheap.

If your next of kin, or whatever agency decides your fate, goes for the ultra-economical option, your remains can be sent straight to the crematorium. That's called direct cremation. At the crematorium, your body is placed in a stiff receptacle—anything from cardboard to fiberboard to the finest wooden casket available (no "paper or plastic" choices here)—and torched. The torching oven is called a retort and the process takes two to four hours. Think of it as a large natural gas-fueled barbecue—the intense heat, 1,700 to 1,900 degrees, evaporates the water out of you and then incinerates what remains. You'll be smaller and blacker than that chicken you forgot about on the Weber. Once burnt, your remains will weigh anywhere from five to seven pounds. The ashes, or cremains, which contain such non-combustibles as bone fragments and teeth, are placed in an urn, shoebox or whatever container the family deems necessary.

This streamlined procedure can be done at Reno Memorial for $395, or $370 with the senior citizen discount.

But even though you're being reduced to a pile of dust and bone fragments, there are still plenty of options. Any of the services that can be chosen for burial can also be chosen for cremation. You can have the embalming and open-casket funeral, with all the trimmings, at a cost of more than $5,000, or any combination of services. Your body can be stored in a columbarium (a mausoleum for the cremated), placed in a niche in a regular mausoleum, buried, scattered to the four winds, dumped in the ocean or lake (a choice preferred by the Neptune Society) or stored on the fireplace mantle.

As with regular burial services, the charges for cremation vary from home to home. Direct cremation at John Sparks Memorial Cremations cost $425. Walton's charges $1,215 plus tax. Direct cremation at Ross-Burke & Knobel costs $1,135.25. Direct cremation at Telophase is $370.

Parting Out
OK, we've covered burial and cremation. You've seen the expensive pitfalls of waiting until past the last minute to make plans.

There is one other option.

So, that's it. Life was long— consumerism from start to finish. Death is longer. If your death proved anything, it's got to be that there are those who will kick you when you're down, even six feet down.

"Nationally, there has been a big move toward donation, not just full-body but also organ donation," says Dr. elarky is adamant about the care and sensitivity with which cadavers in the Medical School are handled. He says that bodies are usually used for one year, although in special cases, they may be used up to five years. After use, the cadavers are given a memorial service to which families are invited, and then they are cremated at the school's expense and stored in a community niche at Mountain View Cemetery. Families can get the cremains back.

Although the identities of all body donations are kept in strict confidence, the students who dissect the cadavers can develop a relationship with the deceased. In a sense, they get to know them.

"This is their first patient," Melarky says. "I want them to know the history, both the individual and medical history."

The donation process is simple. Fill out two forms with two witnesses present (the Anatomical Will form and a general information form) and turn them in to the medical school. The school does not pay for cadavers and a donor may change his mind at any time. There is no cost to the donor unless he or she should die out of the area, in which case the estate or family assumes the shipping cost if it's more than $95.

There are certain conditions under which the school can't accept the donation of a body: an individual who is unusually obese, or who has died from smallpox, diphtheria, scarlet fever, AIDS or suicide. Other conditions under which the school can reject a willed body include if it is unusable because of an explosion, destructive automobile accident, gunshot wounds, destructive surgery, multiple amputations, or if it has been embalmed to the point that further perfusion is improbable.

While it is possible for family members to donate the body, Melarky says that it is better to make plans before you die and to discuss your plans with family members, doctors and lawyers.

Dead And Loving It

So, that's it. Life was long—consumerism from start to finish. Death is longer. If your death proved anything, it's got to be that there are those who will kick you when you down, even six feet down. So before you make that big leap back into the primordial stew, make some plans. Better yet, call somebody. Hell, call here; we'd love an interview.

There are a variety of groups across the nation to help you plan and cut unnecessary costs of death before you experience it. The Memorial Society of Western Nevada is the most active locally. Here is its Top 10 list:

10. Join a memorial society. Many have a contract with local mortuaries for discount services.

9. Consider handling all arrangements and transportation of the body without using a mortician. This is permitted in 41 states, and families that have done so have found it loving and therapeutic.

8. If you prefer body burial, ask for a "grave liner" rather than a "coffin vault." It's a fraction of the cost.

7. Consider body donation to a medical school.

6. Plan a memorial service without the body present. In that case, there's no need for embalming, fancy casket or transporting the body.

5. Consider cremation.

4. If you are shopping at a time of immediate need, take a friend or clergy member with you. They will help prevent impulse buying.

3. Make your own casket. As July 1994, it is illegal for a mortuary to charge a handling fee for bringing in an outside casket. You can also choose a minimum container from the mortuary and drape it with a material of your own choice.

2. Price shop by phone or in person.

1. Talk about funerals with family members ahead of lime. Either pre-plan with funeral providers and let family members know your plans or make very specific requests of your survivors.