Wednesday, October 7, 2009

finger rough draft

Approximately 11,000 people lose a finger every year. Most of them are accidents, but a small percentage are on purpose, in the name of body modification. It’s hard to understand what would drive anyone to cut off their own finger. I don’t even like cutting my fingernails for fear of going too far and pinching the skin underneath. As shocking as this may sound as an abstract idea, it’s even more so when the result is suspended in formaldehyde, inches from your face on a kitchen table.

The aforementioned finger was in the center of a buffet containing all finger foods: taquitos, mozzarella sticks, egg rolls and French fries, and accompanying bowls of red dips. The finger’s former possessor was standing in the kitchen, chatting with the guests who had been invited to see the premiere of his autoamputation.

About thirty people had come to see the video, and everyone was milling around anxiously waiting for the computer to be hooked up to the big screen TV in the living room. While someone fiddled with the cords trying to get the computer hooked up, people started filing in and staking out their spots for the showing. Only three people had actually seen it; the star, and the two camera people who documented the whole process.

I settled in next to the couch on the floor as we waited for the video to start. People were getting antsy, nervously cracking finger jokes and passing around plastic bags in case anyone found the video too revolting to stomach. People were passing around a bong, but somehow the idea of watching the video stoned didn’t sound appealing; pot’s supposed to alleviate nausea but I suspect it would have the opposite effect in this case. Behind the bong came a case of beer, and the cracking open of cans followed the two. I grabbed one; it seemed like a more appropriate substance for the occasion.

After much (effort/work??? need to find better word) the first frame of the video appeared on the screen. Before it started, the amputee got up to make a speech.“Two years ago, I had an accident that resulted in me getting third degree burns on seventy percent of my body. I had to have skin grafts on my legs, which had almost no skin left on them. For the first two weeks I had to have my wounds and exposed muscle washed several times a day, and I had to go through two months of physical therapy. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever gone through, and I hope to never experience anything like it again.

“I’ve always had a fascination with people who have lost fingers, and nub fingers, and although I had thought for a long time about cutting off one of my own fingers, I never actually thought I’d have the nerve to go through with it. But after my accident, I realized that regardless of how painful it would be, it wouldn’t be as bad as my burns, and if I could live through that, I could handle cutting off my finger. Around the same time I also met a man who had lost one of his fingers, but he didn’t let it effect his life at all; in fact, he said that after a while he rarely even noticed it was missing.

“After a lot of research and planning, I decided I was ready to do it. My parents knew about it, and although they weren’t happy, they understood why I thought I needed to do it, and were ok with it. My friends kind of thought I was crazy. I can say now having done it that it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, and I’m happy with the results. Anyway, that’s about it, so let’s watch the video already.”

Everyone clapped and cheered, and the movie started. It was taken with a shaky hand held camera, and showed the future amputee sitting in a chair describing what he was about to do, shirtless, wearing a skull mask. The reason for the mask, he explained, was that he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and anyway, the finger was the real star here.He started off by tying a black rubber band around his finger to cut off the circulation. After doing this the frame jumped and the film resumed half an hour later, with the finger already one foot in the grave – without blood flowing to it, it had changed to a grayish-yellow color and didn’t even look real. The next step was to numb the finger by soaking it in ice water. This, he said, was the most painful part, as he was essentially giving himself frostbite. Periodically he would take his hand out and poke it with the tip of a knife to check its sensitivity.

The audience was full of anxious laughter, the bong continued its circuitous route, and people chatted nervously, being sure to look one another in the eye so as to divert their view from the screen. The suspense was building, the finger now out of the ice, and on a chopping block. One of the amputee’s masked assistants handed him a knife, and he tested out various angles and techniques, coming down almost to the finger but each time letting the blade come to a dull stop on the doomed appendage.

Several knives were tested and discarded due to insufficient sharpness, and finally one was decided on. At this point, it became uncertain which attempts were tests, and which one would be the final blow. Each time the knife started undulating and gaining momentum, the audience winced collectively, letting out a sigh of relief when the knife was pulled away, the finger in tact.

The longer this went on, a good ten minutes at least, the more restless the audience grew, their laughter and joking growing inversely from their disquietude. The frame jumped again, and an image appeared of the amputee holding a pair of pliers, which he would use to break his first knuckle, assuring a clean cut through the skin and cartilage. He pressed down and there was an audible crack. Everyone laughed, but this time more quietly, less out of nervousness than disbelief. The room got significantly quieter, and the skittish energy manifested itself in the fogged up living room windows.

Finally the knife came down for the last time. The first shot of it was from behind the amputee, then from in front, but by the time the angle switched the finger was already almost completely off. It seemed anticlimactic initially, not seeing the initial severance of the finger. With the circulation cut off, there was no blood either; the grey lump of skin simply broke away from the hand, lying on the counter as the rest of the amputee moved away. It wasn’t as shocking as I had anticipated, but watching the amputee’s reaction on the screen, and remembering his speech, shock wouldn’t have been the right emotion. Nobody laughed, or screamed, and nobody had to use their plastic bags. The weight of the action sank in not only for the audience, but for the amputee himself. It was a surreal scene, and for a few minutes, the first and last time that night, the room was eerily quiet.

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