Surgery
29.6.11 by I.R.
These headaches will never pass. They split the mind, unweave my thoughts, and impede my productivity. A persistent drilling in my skull, they are unrelenting in nature. Throbbing and pulsating, I look for reprieve in anything and everything.
Now this is the final straw, I have borne them for far too long. I approach the Bunsen burner with my scalpel. I hold it in the flame for several moments in the act of sterilization. I grab a knot of rope from the closet and hesitantly place it in my mouth, clenching it between my teeth.
With brevity, I pierce the scalp with the blade, pointed-end first. The blood gushes out like amnion, and I begin to bite harder into the rope. I grab the handle and methodically pull the blade downward in a slicing motion. A large pool of blood collects at my feet, and I begin to feel faint. My teeth begin to sore, at which time I notice the rope is soaked in my saliva and spilling over my lips, onto my body and on the floor. The saliva contacts the pool of blood at my feet, but is assimilated without struggle.
Several minutes later, I am able to locate the mass by palpating my brain with my bare hands. It feels spongy and resilient. In an act of catharsis, I grab it with my forefinger and thumb and pull laterally until it is torn off.
Bringing the two flaps of skin overlying either side of the dissected portion of my scalp together, I apply surgical staples to seal the incision. With a final spurt of effort, I cleanse my head with scented soap and water before collapsing on the ground.
Now this is the final straw, I have borne them for far too long. I approach the Bunsen burner with my scalpel. I hold it in the flame for several moments in the act of sterilization. I grab a knot of rope from the closet and hesitantly place it in my mouth, clenching it between my teeth.
With brevity, I pierce the scalp with the blade, pointed-end first. The blood gushes out like amnion, and I begin to bite harder into the rope. I grab the handle and methodically pull the blade downward in a slicing motion. A large pool of blood collects at my feet, and I begin to feel faint. My teeth begin to sore, at which time I notice the rope is soaked in my saliva and spilling over my lips, onto my body and on the floor. The saliva contacts the pool of blood at my feet, but is assimilated without struggle.
Several minutes later, I am able to locate the mass by palpating my brain with my bare hands. It feels spongy and resilient. In an act of catharsis, I grab it with my forefinger and thumb and pull laterally until it is torn off.
Bringing the two flaps of skin overlying either side of the dissected portion of my scalp together, I apply surgical staples to seal the incision. With a final spurt of effort, I cleanse my head with scented soap and water before collapsing on the ground.
