Horrible (and graphic) thought

I keep getting this horrible vision of Susan enjoying the role of paramedic too much.

Someone is hit by an explosion. As he wakes up, lying on the floor, he sees the skin of his abdomen has been ruptured and a few lengths of his intenstine are exposed. It hurts too much to get up. He daren't get up. As he sees his bloodied hands, he's trying to hold back the thought that he's going to die. He's surprised to see a pair of boots by his shoulder. Attached to them is a uniformed women carrying a green, plastic first aid box but he can't see her face as she's looking at his abdomen. He'll find out soon enough. The woman squeals "Ooh! Look at his guts spilling out!"

Then a second, male paramedic with a reassuring smile crouches next to him and says "She's a closet pyromaniac, ya know." He turns to his colleague and says "You don't smoke that brand or use a lighter like that."

"I got them off that fella there." she replies as she points.

"He's dead!"

"Exactly! He doesn't need them."

Perhaps I should never work in emergency response.

I remember reading this Q&A: [link|http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a5_262.html|Does the head remain briefly conscious after decapitation?]

Is it possible? The aforementioned Dr. Fink believed the brain might remain conscious as long as 15 seconds; that's how long cardiac arrest victims last before blacking out. (Dr. Fink's colleague put the window of awareness at 5 seconds.) He also pointed out that people have remained alert after having had their spinal cords severed. Still, this didn't seem like the sort of question that could ever be conclusively resolved.

Or so I thought. Then I received a note from a U.S. Army veteran who had been stationed in Korea. In June 1989 the taxi he and a friend were riding in collided with a truck. My correspondent was pinned in the wreckage. The friend was decapitated. Here's what happened:

My friend's head came to rest face up, and (from my angle) upside-down. As I watched, his mouth opened and closed no less than two times. The facial expressions he displayed were first of shock or confusion, followed by terror or grief. I cannot exaggerate and say that he was looking all around, but he did display ocular movement in that his eyes moved from me, to his body, and back to me. He had direct eye contact with me when his eyes took on a hazy, absent expression . . . and he was dead.

I have spoken with the author and am satisfied that the event occurred as described. One can of course never be certain about these things. Nonetheless I repent my previous skepticism.

:-(

I occasionally have dreams of a gruesome personal death, but haven't noticed it recently. Thankfully.

My guess is that your dreams/visions are related to the events of the UK over the past month or so. :-( Hang in there.

Cheers,
Scott.

Post #217,967 by warmachine 8/7/05 1:46:55 PM 8/7/05 7:25:12 PM Reply	Horrible (and graphic) thought I keep getting this horrible vision of Susan enjoying the role of paramedic too much. Someone is hit by an explosion. As he wakes up, lying on the floor, he sees the skin of his abdomen has been ruptured and a few lengths of his intenstine are exposed. It hurts too much to get up. He daren't get up. As he sees his bloodied hands, he's trying to hold back the thought that he's going to die. He's surprised to see a pair of boots by his shoulder. Attached to them is a uniformed women carrying a green, plastic first aid box but he can't see her face as she's looking at his abdomen. He'll find out soon enough. The woman squeals "Ooh! Look at his guts spilling out!" Then a second, male paramedic with a reassuring smile crouches next to him and says "She's a closet pyromaniac, ya know." He turns to his colleague and says "You don't smoke that brand or use a lighter like that." "I got them off that fella there." she replies as she points. "He's dead!" "Exactly! He doesn't need them." Perhaps I should never work in emergency response. Matthew Greet Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? - Mark Renton, Trainspotting. Edited by warmachine Aug. 7, 2005, 07:25:12 PM EDT Expand All History
Post #217,970 by Another Scott 8/7/05 2:02:39 PM Reply	Another graphic memory, from The Straight Dope. I remember reading this Q&A: [link\|http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a5_262.html\|Does the head remain briefly conscious after decapitation?] Is it possible? The aforementioned Dr. Fink believed the brain might remain conscious as long as 15 seconds; that's how long cardiac arrest victims last before blacking out. (Dr. Fink's colleague put the window of awareness at 5 seconds.) He also pointed out that people have remained alert after having had their spinal cords severed. Still, this didn't seem like the sort of question that could ever be conclusively resolved. Or so I thought. Then I received a note from a U.S. Army veteran who had been stationed in Korea. In June 1989 the taxi he and a friend were riding in collided with a truck. My correspondent was pinned in the wreckage. The friend was decapitated. Here's what happened: My friend's head came to rest face up, and (from my angle) upside-down. As I watched, his mouth opened and closed no less than two times. The facial expressions he displayed were first of shock or confusion, followed by terror or grief. I cannot exaggerate and say that he was looking all around, but he did display ocular movement in that his eyes moved from me, to his body, and back to me. He had direct eye contact with me when his eyes took on a hazy, absent expression . . . and he was dead. I have spoken with the author and am satisfied that the event occurred as described. One can of course never be certain about these things. Nonetheless I repent my previous skepticism. :-( I occasionally have dreams of a gruesome personal death, but haven't noticed it recently. Thankfully. My guess is that your dreams/visions are related to the events of the UK over the past month or so. :-( Hang in there. Cheers, Scott.
Post #217,972 by warmachine 8/7/05 2:21:38 PM Reply	People call me Stuart Smalley. I'm just perverse. Matthew Greet Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? - Mark Renton, Trainspotting.
Post #217,976 by Another Scott 8/7/05 2:32:28 PM Reply	:-D
Post #217,974 by bionerd 8/7/05 2:25:38 PM Reply	You want to set him straight, Matthew, or should I? "My guess is that your dreams/visions are related to the events of the UK over the past month or so. :-( Hang in there." Hmmm... my guess is his thoughts are related to a pyromanic mother of 2 in Michigan and the horrors that would ensue if said pyromanic mother actually did pursue a career in emergency medical response. And BTW, I was transfixed with decapitations last spring in response to all those terrorist beheadings and spent a lot of time thinking about that.
Post #217,977 by Another Scott 8/7/05 2:33:36 PM Reply	My literal brain had taken over again... :-)
Post #217,978 by warmachine 8/7/05 2:34:55 PM Reply	You've already done it Mind you. It'll be interesting to know how well you'd fit into my horror story. I predict that you'd be delighted at the sight of guts but precisely know the effect on the wounded. Matthew Greet Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? - Mark Renton, Trainspotting.
Post #217,997 by bionerd 8/7/05 4:55:41 PM Reply	You're pretty much right. I'd be the one standing there saying: Cool.
Post #217,983 by boxley 8/7/05 2:51:09 PM Reply	and of course you will have your lighter moments [link\|http://www.local6.com/news/4815844/detail.html\|http://www.local6.co...15844/detail.html] Emergency workers helped a New Hampshire man out of a difficult situation over the weekend after a friend apparently locked a padlock around his testicles. According to the Portsmouth Herald, police reported that the 39-year-old man was intoxicated when they arrived at the scene on July 30 at about 3:40 a.m. The man, who was not identified, told them that he had the padlock around his testicles for two weeks. thanx, bill Just call me Mr. Lynch \\ Any opinions expressed by me are mine alone, posted from my home computer, on my own time as a free american and do not reflect the opinions of any person or company that I have had professional relations with in the past 49 years. meep questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org]
Post #217,988 by Another Scott 8/7/05 3:31:26 PM Reply	2 weeks!?! Good thing he didn't have to fly anywhere...
Post #217,989 by imqwerky 8/7/05 3:44:56 PM Reply	Thanx for the chuckle, Box Whilst our compadres wax sombre, nay morbid, it is our Noble Boxley who comes charging through the sanquinary thoughtfield on the White Horse of Levity, girded with the mighty Shield of Humor. May I offer some assistance in that regard? re:"Horrible and Graphic thought" if I were said woman, my line would be... "Now, now, Pull yourself together." :-D Pieces, amy /me ducks from the tomatoes Illegitimi non corborundum.
Post #218,011 by Ashton 8/7/05 6:08:29 PM Reply	I, otoh would hope to have the presence of warped-jello to utter, (Well.. maybe.. just internally - less'n I Knowed the fucker was a real Fucker, like say.. Armani Suited + with a regularly berated Yes-Aide?) Betcha won't have the guts to do That again, Bunky..
Post #218,020 by warmachine 8/7/05 7:01:00 PM 8/7/05 7:02:03 PM Reply	You have a sick sense of humour. I like that. Matthew Greet Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? - Mark Renton, Trainspotting. Edited by warmachine Aug. 7, 2005, 07:02:03 PM EDT Expand All History
Post #217,998 by bionerd 8/7/05 4:56:14 PM Reply	Cool.
Post #218,159 by tuberculosis 8/8/05 3:47:32 PM Reply	lighter moments compensate for matchless moments "Whenever you find you are on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect" --Mark Twain "The significant problems we face cannot be solved at the same level of thinking we were at when we created them." --Albert Einstein "This is still a dangerous world. It's a world of madmen and uncertainty and potential mental losses." --George W. Bush
Post #218,176 by warmachine 8/8/05 4:28:08 PM Reply	Very good Matthew Greet Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? - Mark Renton, Trainspotting.

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