16. Mowing The Lawn
“My father once happened upon a little nest of rabbit kits while mowing the lawn. Their startle response meant that some of them hopped up into the blades. Half of them were fine, but the other half were so badly injured, my dad had to put them out of their misery and pick them up. I was outside with him when it happened. He just quietly went to the porch and smoked a cigarette after. I asked him how he was and he said he was fine ‘but that was fucked up.'”
17. Cats will eat you if they’re hungry enough
“I used to do remediation work which occasionally included cleaning up delayed death finds and suicides. One was an old woman who had committed suicide, but wasn’t called in for a couple weeks. She died on the toilet (strange place to end it) and part of her had liquefied into the toilet, and some into the floor tile’s grout. We used wire brushes on the grout. It was pretty awful. What was really fascinating and disgusting, though, was that her cats, without food for those two weeks, began eating little parts of her. We found little chewed-on rotted chunks of her in different corners in the house. I still love my cats, even if I know they’ll eat me.”
18. Vending Machine Takes Her Money And Then Slices Her Arm Open
“During 2005, I did my military service in Sweden. I was in my uniform, on the train on my way to service after having had a week off. It was a two hour journey I usually spent with music, just sticking to myself. When I got to the train station, I waited with the soldiers from my group and we’d all get on the transportation to the actual site. The last few hours before I was ‘on’ were always peaceful and quiet, except for this one time. I was sat in a part of the train where there usually was never any seat reservations, as the tickets we’d get rarely had them, and I had a piece of the car to myself – there’s a double seat where I was sat, and a single seat opposite it, right next to the few stairs down to the level where you get off. That level also has a toilet, and a coffee/soda machine. This particular time, the soda machine ate a woman’s money without giving out a drink. She was frustrated, slapped the machine on its side, and then let her arm slide down it, defeated. What she didn’t notice was a very sharp piece of metal that was sticking out, and she cut a nice gash a couple inches long, across her lower arm. Blood was pouring everywhere. I witnessed all this, and being in uniform and equipped with a bandage in my right leg pocket (as always), I couldn’t not act.
I sprung from my seat, assessed the bleeding, deemed it to be severe, and applied the bandage as a tourniquet, all according to protocol. I told a fellow passenger to contact the conductor, and to call the emergency number. I asked her if the tourniquet hurt. She said yes. I said good, and made sure the blood flow to her injury had stopped and that there was limited capillary refill – as I was trained for treating injuries tactically. We were some 10-15 minutes away from the next station where the ambulance would be waiting, so I talked to her about where she was from and everyday stuff to keep her calm. The people working on the train were way too freaked out about the whole thing to help and I was running on instinct. When the EMTs boarded the train at the next stop to take care of this woman I told them what I did, at what time I applied the tourniquet, and her general status (relatively calm, communicative, probably not in shock but I was not a trained medical professional). They told me I did good; apparently I looked like I needed the reassurance. When everything was said and done and the woman was off the train and the train started moving again, I sort of came to. I was sitting where I’d been the whole time I was helping her. There was blood everywhere. The floor had splatters and tracks from where people who were walking to and fro had dragged the blood with their shoes, but then I realized that my entire lap was covered with blood from where I had grabbed her arm and held it across my chest while I was tightening the tourniquet, and applying the bandage over the wound. I rode the next 45 minutes in silence, sat in the same position. When I arrived at my place of service I told the lieutenant that I needed to use the washing machine for my pants (I only had the pants I was wearing) and a new bandage for my right leg pocket from the store room. At this time, it was their time to be horrified and I had mostly processed all of it, but it did look like I had slaughtered a pig.”