I'm deciding whether to give up both legs or both arms. Imagining both possibilities, realizing I value all my limbs. Comparing it to donating a kidney, thinking I would donate one to my brother, but not to an utter stranger. And in this case, nobody gets to benefit from my sacrifice, so why should I do it?
Leaving the place, I walk outside and there is a soft powdery layer over everything. I take a handful - it is dry, like baby powder, not cold. It can't be snow, but what else could it be? I keep walking, wondering, looking at the stuff everywhere on the ground. Finally I realize it IS snow but I've been inside so long I no longer feel the cold, and it is winter. It was summer when I went in.
I see a convenience store. I don't need to buy anything right now but I crave the smell of stale coffee so I go in, intending to walk through the front door and out the back door. Immediately I see lots of people I recognize. They are the same ones who were debating the two-limbs choice with me in the building. They are in pairs, buying themselves snacks. I wave to them, but keep walking, inhaling the familiar coffee burnt smell. I think: they are fools. We don't have to give up two limbs at all.
I am being strapped onto a stretcher. Two EMT workers are arguing. One points out that I am not securely strapped in. I check the buckles and see that they are only loosely arranged, that I could fall out anytime. The other guy says, the one in charge of me, "Oh, it doesn't matter." Oh yes, it DOES matter! I say, being strapped in properly could be the difference between brain damage and surviving intact. If I go into the water and fall down, it will take me longer to get out and during those few seconds I could lose everything I have now. The careless worker rolls his eyes as the conscientious one walks away. I think: YOU are an asshole.
Trying to decide whether I'd rather lose both arms or both legs. Without my arms, I can still fit into society. I walk around, I look people in the eye, I'm the right height to see across a counter, I look "normal" at first glance, I can wear shirts with empty sleeves cleverly pinned so nobody notices at first. I can use my feet for many tasks, like that Chinese boy who plays piano with his toes. But I don't want to give up my piano hands, my delicate fingers, I've worked so hard to develop them and they are beautiful. They're an important part of me.
The
Leaving the place, I walk outside and there is a soft powdery layer over everything. I take a handful - it is dry, like baby powder, not cold. It can't be snow, but what else could it be? I keep walking, wondering, looking at the stuff everywhere on the ground. Finally I realize it IS snow but I've been inside so long I no longer feel the cold, and it is winter. It was summer when I went in.
I see a convenience store. I don't need to buy anything right now but I crave the smell of stale coffee so I go in, intending to walk through the front door and out the back door. Immediately I see lots of people I recognize. They are the same ones who were debating the two-limbs choice with me in the building. They are in pairs, buying themselves snacks. I wave to them, but keep walking, inhaling the familiar coffee burnt smell. I think: they are fools. We don't have to give up two limbs at all.
I am being strapped onto a stretcher. Two EMT workers are arguing. One points out that I am not securely strapped in. I check the buckles and see that they are only loosely arranged, that I could fall out anytime. The other guy says, the one in charge of me, "Oh, it doesn't matter." Oh yes, it DOES matter! I say, being strapped in properly could be the difference between brain damage and surviving intact. If I go into the water and fall down, it will take me longer to get out and during those few seconds I could lose everything I have now. The careless worker rolls his eyes as the conscientious one walks away. I think: YOU are an asshole.
Trying to decide whether I'd rather lose both arms or both legs. Without my arms, I can still fit into society. I walk around, I look people in the eye, I'm the right height to see across a counter, I look "normal" at first glance, I can wear shirts with empty sleeves cleverly pinned so nobody notices at first. I can use my feet for many tasks, like that Chinese boy who plays piano with his toes. But I don't want to give up my piano hands, my delicate fingers, I've worked so hard to develop them and they are beautiful. They're an important part of me.
The
