I blink. Gnawing pain overtakes my left foot. Throwing my footwear aside my big toe is now a mangled stump.
I blink. Instinctively, I coil my right hand inwards from the pain. Cauterized, yet still raw to the touch, my knuckle is all that remains of my right index finger.
I blink. Instead of tending to my newly missing ear, I try to get my fingers into position to hold my eyelids open. For a few seconds I have mastered this madness.
A tiny speck of grit wanders into my right eye. It wells at the implications of this agitation, blinking furiously until the offending speck is gone. And, with each blink I lose another part of myself. Now missing my left thumb my grip slips from my eyelids.
I blink. I crumple at the loss of a foot. Desperately, my remaining fingers flail trying to brace my eyelids open. If only I had a few more fingers left I might have been able to.
I blink. Something internal departs with a malevolent wince. It feels like it was important. At least shock is setting in to help ease me me into the inevitable.