Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. Reanimate.

“Did you hear that?” I peaked my head up, looking around the empty cemetery illuminated from the full moon above. Stars speckled the air like a thousand eyes watching my every move. They were jarringly beautiful. I turned my attention back to the ground, observing the beautiful man lying beneath me. Moonlight reflected off his pale skin, his glassy emerald eyes staring up at me with an expression I couldn’t figure out. His lips were straightened in a tight line. I leaned down, brushing the tip of my nose to his. “Of course you didn’t.” I whispered against his lips. 

Blood coated my hands as I ran them through his hair. My finger brushed the edge of the ear I detached earlier. It was cold and stiff but the skin was still soft. I sat up, grabbing a handkerchief from my bag and wiping the blood off my hands then cleaning the ear before depositing it into a reusable sandwich bag. With so much consumerism nowadays, I knew I had to do my part to keep as much plastic as possible out of the landfill. 

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. Reanimate. 

Body parts are a hot commodity and expensive. With the expensive insurance deductibles and extensive waitlists, I’ve resulted in getting what I need and what I want via my local cemetery. I have the choice of fresh bodies nearly everyday. All I have to do is dig them up, hack off what I need and clean it. They are lovely company and very understanding that I need their body parts they no longer require. 

Cemeteries are a chronically-ill girl’s dream. Body parts, a simple needle and thread, and a little help from some electrical currents is all you need to repair your naturally broken body. Most people are decorated with beautiful tattoos; another cost is covered and I get to customize my useless skin suit. 

“Goodbye tinnitus.” I grinned, flicking the freshly sewn ear. Retrieving the broken TENs unit from my bathroom cupboard, I surrounded my ear with the four muscle relaxing patches. I thought the machine was useless after, only four uses of the brand new machine, it electrocuted me. Now this small tan rectangle with its digital screen and wired patches is my best friend. 

I turn the dial to max capacity. Strong pulsing radiates off the patches followed by a sharp tingling sensation. My muscles tense as it fights off the pain radiating through my skulls. Endorphins rush through my body, letting my muscles relax and the pain to ease. My breath hitches as the multitude of sensations rotate through me. Finally the machine turns off and a shudder brings me back to my senses. 

Blood trickles down my neck while I use a dampened cloth to clean up my new ear. This ear has bothered me with tinnitus for nearly five years. Can you imagine a shrill ringing in your ear all day and night for five years? The overstimulation, the lack of hearing and the dizziness. Music lacks enjoyment, conversations are tiresome at restaurants or bars, libraries are much too quiet. 

Now I hear nothing. Silence. Thank you, Timothy Yukare, for your contribution. 

• Kidney (chronic stones)
• Right eye (needs lasik)
• Left ear (chronic tinnitus) 
• Nose (deviated septum)
• Hip replacement (tumor)

“It feels so good to check off another goal! I am being so productive this year.” I sing to myself. “Now, who has a good nose? A breathable nose?” I tap the pen against my bottom lip as I think of all the patients I see passing through the hospital. 

Mrs. Lorvert would be a lovely match; a stunning 73 year-old battling cancer. Bright blue eyes with minimal crows feet, white curly bob and the most symmetrical nose I have ever laid my eyes upon. The bridge is petite, the rounded tip is slightly curved upward, and the nostrils aren’t too big. Every nurse in the building is jealous of her nose and I will be the one to have it after she passes. Now I wait patiently for her funeral. It is never odd for a nurse to show up at a patient’s funeral; it makes for a perfect cover to see where she will be buried. 

The scalpel slices through my skin leaving a clean cut for me to slowly peel the skin away. I carefully slice the fascia away from the bone. Pain sears underneath my numbed procerus and nasalis. I grab the syringe full of low dose anesthesia and localize it deeper into the muscles surrounding my nose. 

I learned my lesson from replacing my eyeball. Seeing as I replaced my entire right eyeball, I had to slice above my brow bone to access the nerves and tendons to my eye. It was very tricky as it was only my second self-surgery. My biggest regret with the procedure was not using more anesthesia. Replacing my kidney was a walk in the park, but eyeballs? Far more tricky. The most impressive part was the very little amount of bruising I experienced afterwards. 

Once my bone is exposed, I take out my reciprocating bone saw and start slicing through the bridge. The faint smell of corn chips fills what little senses I still have. As I cut through the maxillae my vision starts to blur. This is where I have to take a deep breath, steady myself and really push through what my body is trying to fight. I may not be able to feel what is going on but my nervous system catches every tooth of the blade slicing through my bones. 

After hours of slicing, sawing, gluing, screwing and stitching, Mrs. Lorvert’s nose sits beautifully on my face. I bandage my new nose to keep it clean. A high dose of extra strength Ibuprofen is all I need to keep the pain and swelling at bay. I look at the mess in my bathroom and decide to clean it up later. It is six in the morning and fatigue plagues my body. 

Tonight I will fall asleep with the satisfaction I have one more body part left to handle. Next month, hopefully, as long as things go well, I will have a new hip to replace the one riddled with tumors. 

Sunlight trickles through my kitchen curtains. The scent of coffee fills the air as I make my routine breakfast of yogurt, toast and berries. I dance around the kitchen feeling light on my feet. Excitement buzzes as the thoughts of my new hip arrival. Today is young Mr. Belsit’s funeral. A sudden, tragic motorcyclist who died in a bumper to bumper accident. While the upper half of his body was mangled, his bottom half was pristine. His hips were healthy, symmetrical and they are ripe for the picking. 

The scent of coffee slowly starts to smell of sulfur. I look under my kitchen sink to investigate only to find a bloodied pup sleeping under it. A scream escapes my body as the horror in my own home divulges. After a quick search through my apartment I discover it to be empty; all of the windows and doors are also shut and locked. No spider disturbed or spec of dust out of place. I slowly approach the sink cabinet again only to find no dog is there. No smell of sulfur lingers in the air. 

They are here with me also. They are angry. A voice whispers from my left. I flinch away, the kitchen blurring as I move quickly to find who broke into my apartment. 

We suggest you stop while you are ahead. Do not disturb another grave. Do not step foot into another cemetery or it will be the last time. 

The last time? Ha! I will show these damned spirits who will step into the cemetery for the last time. I will replace every part of my body with whomever I decide. How will they stop me? 

After a long night filled with horrid smells, disturbing visions and whispered warnings, I finally arrived home with my lovely new hip. The biggest accomplishment as it is the largest body part I have removed from anyone. 

I carefully place the hip on the small operating table. I start to set up my cart of tools, preparing the anesthesia dosage and disrobing into a comfortable hospital gown. 

Do not do this operation. Return the bones back to whom they belong to. 

The spirits warning rang in my ear. I shake my head and continue working on setting up my surgery area. I plop into a chair, tying a rubber band to my bicep and wiping down a protruding vein. When I first started inserting the needles into myself I would flinch but now I remain steady and calm. The calmer one is, the less blood there will be when the first cut is made. 

The edges of my vision blurs as I start to lose the feeling in my hands. “Oh, not now…” I mutter. The words slur together as my mouth goes dry. 

I warned you it would be the last time. 

I squint, forcing my vision to focus on the anesthesia machine. The dose is large enough to force a horse to sleep and I, in my excited race to add a new body part to my collection, like the walking antique shop I was destined to become, cranked the dosage up without double checking. 

Why do humans do things such as this? We become overly confident in our newfound skills and, ignoring the simple rules we know will save us time, let our egos dictate the quality of what we will produce. Ego does not play will with intelligence nor skill. Ego should be, at the end of the day, killed before it kills you. 

Alas,

The world is quiet tonight.

The buzzing in my body has calmed.

Things are as they should be. 

I am finally at peace.

We are finally at peace.