Seppuku

Finally I reach the small clearing, deep in the forest. It's quiet here, you only hear the sounds of nature. Rarely does anyone go here. I will be undisturbed. I spread out my blanket in the shade of the trees and kneel in the middle. Then I slip my shirt over my head and push the waistband of my pants down into my groin. My mighty belly rises and falls heavily. I lovingly stroke the bulging hairy ball. Then I take out the knife. It's a tanto and it's sharpened. I wrap the blade halfway in paper and grasp it in my right hand. The left hand feels the abdomen below the navel. I place the blade a hand's breadth below, take a deep breath - and thrust.
It doesn't hurt as much as I expected. I pull the blade across the abdomen to the right. Now the pain sets in. I didn't expect that it would be so difficult to open my belly with this sharp knife. It's tedious to cut through the tight layers of skin, muscle, and fat. I gasp and groan, it hurts terribly! Inch by inch it goes forward, the abdomen gapes. Breathing heavily, I pull out the knife to plunge it into my underbelly, just below the cut at navel level. The tearing pain makes me pause for a moment, I have to gather all my courage. Then I laboriously pull the blade up, cross the horizontal incision, and split the navel. The pain is raging terribly in my gut. I pull the knife out of my upper abdomen and drop it on the blood-soaked blanket. Groaning, I hold my terribly painful belly, which is now wide open. The intestines push out in bloody loops, swell onto the blanket. I sink forward, bracing myself with one hand on the floor while the other tries to hold back the guts. The pain is unbearable. I black out, collapse and slam forward to the ground.
When consciousness returns, all I can feel is the terrible pain in my gut. Groaning and panting, I get up on my knees again, one hand clutching my bulging intestines, the other leaning on the floor. It hurts so bad! The cross cut in my belly gapes open. No chance to push back the intestines! I let it go... My belly hurts so much, I hold it complaining. Then I sink to the ground, writhing and squirming until I'm finally on my back, legs drawn up, clutching my guts, moaning and groaning.

I can't say how long I lay like that. It seems like infinity to me. It was probably hours. Opening your belly is a slow, painful death. Suddenly there are two men. Hunter. They heard my cries of pain and followed them. I see the horror on their faces. One immediately makes an emergency call. The other squats down next to me. "It'll be okay..." he says helplessly. "Help is on the way." Groaning, I try to cover the gaping abdominal wound. "My guts..." I whimper. "My belly..." The man doesn't know what to do or say. Finally he nods. "Hurts, yeah?" It's a ridiculous remark given my wide open abdominal cavity. The leaked intestines hanging out of my belly. My pained face. The desperate cries of pain that escape my throat. The hands clinging helplessly to the intestines. Of the heavy heaving and falling belly, stretching out in spasms... But I can't blame the man, it's just that sight that completely overwhelms him. The second man bends over me. "They send the rescue helicopter." I stare at him with glazed eyes. He pulls a first aid kit out of his backpack, tears open the packaging of a sterile cloth and spreads it over my open abdomen. "Can you hold that?" I nod, groaning, pressing the cloth over the gaping wound. It is clear to me that the cloth serves less to protect the open abdominal cavity than to protect against this sight. But it is okay.

My consciousness is clouding over more and more. The two hunters keep talking to me in panic. "Hey, stay awake!" Help is coming soon.” “Don't close your eyes!” Then suddenly the rescue helicopter is over us and lands in the clearing. The paramedic kneels by my side while the medic leads the hunters away. "I'm going to look at your abdomen now. Please take your hands off.” He removes the cloth from my gut, taking a good look at the extent of the injuries. Then he picks up the knife. "Did you inflict this on yourself? With this?” “Yes…” I groan. “When was that?” “In the morning… in the morning… around… around 10…” “I'll take care of your belly now so that we can transport you. Don't worry, you'll also get painkillers.” He injects me, but the pain continues to rage in my gut. Then he tapes the open abdominal cavity around the intestines with sterile cloths. I gasp and moan. He injects me again something. Then the medic begins to put the leaked intestines on my belly. While he fixes it with his hands as best as possible, the emergency doctor tapes this mountain of entrails with new sterile towels and fixes it on my belly. The paramedic gets a rescue stretcher and together they lift me up. I scream in pain as they move me like this. The police have now arrived. One of the officers talks to the hunters, the other comes to the emergency doctor. The medic puts a cannula in me. "Did he attempt suicide?" I hear the police officer ask. "Yeah, he slashed his belly." "What a mess... will he make it?" The paramedic shrugs. "He lay here like that for hours. It looks really bad. The intestines are completely gutted. I don't know if he'll survive the flight at all.” The policeman thanks him and goes back to his colleague.The emergency doctor and paramedics carry me into the heli. Every movement hurts unbearably. I roar like a wounded animal. The ambulance puts me on the drip. "Now it'll be better." He's right, the pain is getting duller. For the first time in hours, I relax a little. The helicopter takes off. "Where...are we going?" I moan. "University Hospital. They've already prepared for surgery.” “No!” I reach for the emergency doctor. "No surgery! No...surgery..." "You'll die if you refuse surgery." "I...I'll...die too...like this..." I gasp. The doctor looks me in the eye. "Probably yes. You have been without medical help for a very long time. And you've really inflicted serious abdominal injuries on yourself. But you have a small chance of making it if we get you to the clinic alive.” “No…” I moan. "Let me... die..." The doctor radioed the clinic. “Patient, male, around 50, obese. Attempted suicide about 4 hours ago by opening the abdominal cavity with a knife. The abdomen is opened up extensively by two crossing incisions, which run horizontally below the navel between the pelvic bones and vertically in the middle from the pubic bone to the stomach. The bowel is completely leaked. Patient is conscious and responsive but suffers from severe pain for which high doses of morphine have been injected. Vital signs weak. Patient is refusing any life support at this time.”

I'll actually make it to the clinic alive. A team is already waiting for me when I'm lifted out of the helicopter and takes me to the ER at a run. "No surgery..." I moan. "Let me... die... please!" In the operating room, a doctor welcomes me. "Listen, we won't do anything if you refuse. But I want to take a look at your abdomen.” I nod with a groan. The team removes the bloody cloths covering the abdomen and intestines. The doctor begins to examine both thoroughly, which causes me great pain. "Do you think he really slashed his own belly like that?" an operating room nurse asks the doctor. "As big as his belly is, it must have been incredibly difficult and painful." "He opened his belly in the tradition of the samurai," replies the doctor. "It took courage and a strong will to bring this to an end." Finally he sits down next to me. "I want to speak frankly with you. You actually have next to no chance of surviving these injuries, even if you let us do surgery now. Your intestines are not in good condition, we would have to remove large parts of them. That would take hours. Your abdominal cavity is already highly inflamed. If you do not die during the surgery, then most likely as a result of blood poisoning or peritonitis. I would like to do the following: we put the injured intestine back into the abdominal cavity and sew it up. Then we put you in the intensive care unit, provide you with painkillers and a catheter and let things take their course. It may indeed be a few hours before death occurs, but we will do nothing to delay it.” I'm so relieved I'm in tears. "Thank you, Doctor!" I blurt out. “But no… general anesthesia!” “It will be unbearably painful. A local anesthetic only works superficially in the abdominal wall. You'll feel everything we do to your intestines.” “It doesn't matter…” I moan. He nods at me and squeezes my hand. "You can't put his insides back in his abdomen and stitch everything up when he's fully conscious!" the anesthetist protests. "He slashed that big belly while he was fully conscious. And he disemboweled himself. It can't get any worse! The alternative would be to let him die like that." The anesthetist nods. Then the team gets to work. I get undressed. Despite having copious amounts of local anesthetic injected into my abdomen, handling my bowels is, as advertised, excruciatingly painful. The anesthetist holds my hand, strokes my head and encourages me. The team first sews up the horizontal incision in my abdomen up to the crossing vertical incision. Then they start stuffing my intestines back into my belly and finally sew up the rest. I feel the large seams in fascination. When someone wants to stick a wound covering over it, I stop them. "No... please..." They let me have my way. Satisfied, I hold my dull, aching, bulging belly.
Now I'm in the intensive care unit. Painkillers run into me via the entrance. They can only numb the pain in my gut, it accompanies every labored breath. I put the bed in a semi-sitting position so I can look at my belly. It is now grotesquely swollen and is literally glowing. Groaning, I keep touching the seams, which seem stretched to the point of tearing. I marvel at how tenacious my body is in defying the destruction of my gut. It's true that I'm getting much weaker and it's difficult to breathe, but it's a slow death given the terrible injuries.
The doctor who treated my abdomen in the surgery comes up to me. "My shift is over. I was told that you are still alive. How do you feel? Is there anything else we can do to make things easier for you?” I groan and shake my head. "No... it's... good..." "May I examine your belly again?" I nod. The doctor moves the bed into a lying position and begins to carefully feel my belly. I moan in pain. "It's okay, that's all I need to know." He puts a hand on my gut soothingly. Then he pulls the bed back up. "It's incredible that you're still holding out. Your intestines die off. The dead parts are decomposed by bacteria. That's why your belly is so swollen. Are the painkillers still working?” I nod with difficulty. "Yeah... it's... okay..." The doctor looks at me thoughtfully. "Do you regret refusing surgery?" I groan and hold my big belly. "No…" "Do you regret that you chose this form of suicide? It was extremely painful for you.” I look him straight in the eyes. "I...I...would...do it again..." He nods. "I thought so. I'm going to tell you something no one else knows. I've had a belly fetish since I was a child. Abdominal injuries fascinate me and I often imagine my abdomen being injured. I think you feel the same way. And you turned your fantasies into actions.  I wish you get it done soon. Stay brave! If the pain becomes too unbearable and I can see that you are in severe pain, ask for a doctor. We can put you in an induced coma.” “Thanks…” I smile at him. "That... that won't... be... necessary..." He nods and leaves. I hold my aching gut. And wait for death, it comes eight hours later.