If you had to cut off a part of your body?

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Hydronine, Apr 7, 2010.

  1. If you had to. Think of it like the SAW movies. You have to cut off something.

    Oh, and don't say fingers or toes. Unless it's your big toe. Or your thumb.

    Me? I'd have to say my right leg. Yes. It's my dominant leg, but also, it's the one with the most problems.
  2. As weird as this might sound... I'd say my eyes. I'd be perfectly content to listen to the Music of Life all around me.
  3. Some how, I'm not surprised with your answer.
  4. I'm tempted to say head, or right testicle .... but I'd say left leg. never been right since the accident.

  6. Well, I can't cut OFF my uterus, otherwise that is what I'd pick. e.e;

    So I will go with my EARS. That'd look freakily cool. >:D
  7. Well, if it would get sewed up right after I cut it... I would choose to cut off my tongue. It would be up there with cutting off a limb since it's so painful, and I would still retain my more vital bodily functions.

    Plus it would be, as Diana said it herself, freakishly cool.
  8. Best not stirr the emotional paradox. I love the mask but hes a special kind of hero. Like Deadpool but without the really nice pool ending. So, sorta just dead, but still alive. TLDR- The mask wearer is hysterical, but Son of the Mask made me want to cry.
  9. One eye. I have a spare.
  10. This ended up being long-winded and sad. I don't blame anyone who doesn't want to read it. It might even be better if you don't.

    Yesterday, I went to a "celebration of life" for my mom who died on June 4th. They call it a celebration of life because it's not supposed to be a sad affair, but obviously, it still feels like that. I didn't know most of the people who came by. I felt awkward and weird. I was told many times that "at least she's not suffering anymore" and I really wanted to see the good in that, but I don't know how to.

    I didn't get to say anything meaningful and when I talked to anyone about my mom, it was only brief. I want to say something, and I don't really have anyone at home to talk to about my feelings, so I wanted to say something here. I felt it was more appropriate than a blog post. I reposted the old messages because I didn't want this thread to be all about me. I'm sorry about that.

    Almost exactly ten years ago, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. I think this inspired her to turn her life around because I was only 15 then and she wanted to see me grow into something (jury's still out on that, sorry mom). I found some writings from her recently that I guess she started after the diagnosis. She probably wanted to start documenting her recovery, but the journal doesn't go for very long. In it, she said she was scared and that she didn't know what tomorrow would bring. A month later, she was much more hopeful:

    "Today is Sunday and I feel a lot better today. I planted some flowers and herbs. It was nice ... So for today I'm doing quite well so hopefully tomorrow I'll feel even better."

    My mom titled it "My Journey" and if on that day she started a journey, it was one that lasted ten years. I should be so thankful it was ten years and not five or even one. I should be, but I just wish I had one more.

    I've had to go over so many of my mom's old possessions in the last month and it astounds me the amount of medical paperwork she'd accumulated over the years. She went through chemo once and had half a lung removed, but still, she went to work as a waitress almost every day. My mom didn't drive, so she always had to walk to work. They discovered a brain aneurysm a few years later. She had surgery to remove that, and then the cancer returned again. Another round of chemo and it was over once again. My mom still continued to work.

    Two things then happened that I think started a countdown. One, my mom started getting a lot of pain in her back through herniated disks. She was put on pain medication that only got more and more intense and addictive. Second, she experienced a bad case of pneumonia that the doctors didn't catch right away, where there was so much liquid in her lungs that she wasn't getting oxygen to her brain and all her organs. She was in the hospital for weeks and put into a medically induced coma. We were told to prepare for the worst, but she pulled through. However, she had to be on an oxygen tank at all times from then on, which was the worst thing to ever happen to my mom. She couldn't work anymore and to go outside was so difficult for her. If you knew my mom, you knew she did not stop moving, and now here was a ball and chain that forced her to stop moving. So many days I would tell her she had to stop doing housework for us, but she would say she would go crazy if she didn't.

    I know my mom was depressed after this point. There were a few medical emergencies where my mom would stop breathing. Every time it was either an ambulance or a rushed hospital visit. So many nights, my dad or I would stay up with her to make sure she fell asleep properly. The last two years had been a blur of hospital visits. I knew the ball had to drop at some point, but my mom had so much fight in her. Even as her liver couldn't take the pain medication any longer, even as we were told she wasn't going to live, she bounced back again and again.

    I think the problem I'm having coming to terms with it is that I think we could have gotten the summer with her, or maybe even another year. My mom's memory wasn't doing so good thanks to all the times she had gone unconscious, and I doubt she was all there regardless. Her medication was labeled and she was supposed to take a certain kind but she took something wrong. Things just got really bad from there. The hospital had sent her home earlier than they said they would, which was barely a week after telling us she wasn't going to live and they turned out to be wrong. I didn't understand that, nor did I understand them having a "welcome home" nurse service who didn't show up because they expected my mom to book the nurse's time herself. I knew something was wrong that day but I didn't think much of it... we called the ambulance but maybe if we had driven her to the hospital ourselves it would have been quicker. Maybe if we had known what had happened in the immediate moment, things would have changed. I just don't know. All I know is I don't think it was her time yet, no matter how many times people tell me her suffering had ended. She would want to have kept fighting and living no matter what.

    I didn't have a plan when I started writing this so now it kind of is more about my mom's problems than her herself. But, I think this all drives home my point that she was the strongest woman I will ever know. She was incredibly interesting and outgoing, if all those people who were there to honor her that I didn't even know were any indication. She loved her family so much, she wrote and kept in contact with her family back home. We have so many letters she received from relatives I still don't know. She always had a story. Her life was so interesting, and one of my regrets is that I didn't write any of it down.

    I don't have a final message like the last time I wrote one of these, but what is there to say about cancer that hasn't already been said? I do want to shine a light on the fact that it was addiction that ended up hurting my mom the most in the end. Her liver couldn't take a pain medication she was addicted to, and even as they tried to change it to something else, it shut down her body. Addiction is a horrible medical condition because it traps the afflicted. My mom was addicted to cigarettes all her life and there's no doubt that it contributed to the cancer. I don't blame my mom because I knew she couldn't help it. At least she quit after the cancer came.

    All I can really say is, I will miss her so much. I'm so sorry to her that I wasn't a better person before she went. I hope everyone who has gone through something similar is able to cope in whatever way they can.

    Obituary of Gertrude Hanlon | Simcoe Funeral Home
  11. Oh, God. I wouldn't dare. I would already get a little bit nauseous upon seeing a paper-cut, let alone a whole slice of gore off my own feet.

    I choose my big toe. <.<
  12. My left hand, if I can't get away with just a few fingers. My right hand is prettier.

    Seriously, it's lithe.

    (Nothing to do with masturbation. No, seriously, I just like my right hand.)
  13. I almost said my nose, sure you'd look hideous but you would only lose the sense of smell, but then I realized that taste is interlocked with smell and I'm a lover of foods, no I'm not fat! So I think I'd have to go with a foot. Either one really.
  14. Good choices!
  15. If you sacrifice a limb it INSTANT cool stories you can make up about how you lost it =D and handicapped parking spaces =D and global nuclear war =D
  16. Awww, no more limb-cutting?
  17. [​IMG]

    Because I need my hands to play guitar.
  18. ears.

    if i had to cut my own flesh, i'd try and do a chopper read.
  19. Ok, so another Van Gogh.

  20. Left foot; gimme a magic leg and I'd be good to go.

    Or my left eye, thing is damn near blind, anyway.