There were a lot problems that came with being dead.
One, you could never see the sun again. Granted, he didn’t need it produce vitamin D anymore but there were other aspects he missed. He wasn’t sure if it actually mattered, scientifically, but in his own experience it definitely was one of those little things that wore on his mental health. Not being able to enjoy a sunny day. Not being able to meet people for lunch. It isolated you.
Two, your old life was basically over. Granted, maybe he could still be in Vancouver. He was young. It would have been another ten or so years before the aging thing forced him out. However, it was too late for that. And even if it wasn’t it would have happened eventually.
Three, drugs. All the good one that actually helped were long term, take day and just the right dose to work. And you had to expend blood to make it work. Then you threw up the mostly dissolved pill an hour later before it had time to even absorb. All the less helpful ones just happened to be short term and fast acting. And lucky you, you could just drink someone else’s blood for the buzz. AND drunks were easier to hunt! And you got the ecstatic joy of feeding to go along with it. Addiction, self medication. It was such an easy option when you were dead.
As JC’s prey slumped over in the alley and the intoxicating blood pooled in his veins, he couldn’t but think that was a problem.