From Pandagon:

The feed­ing pipe was thick, thicker than my nos­tril, and would not go in. Blood came gush­ing out of my nose and tears down my cheeks, but they kept push­ing until the car­ti­lages cracked. I guess I would have screamed if I could, but I could not with the pipe in my throat. I could breathe nei­ther in nor out at first; I wheezed like a drown­ing man — my lungs felt ready to burst. The doc­tor also seemed ready to burst into tears, but she kept shov­ing the pipe far­ther and far­ther down. Only when it reached my stom­ach could I resume breath­ing, care­fully. Then she poured some slop through a fun­nel into the pipe that would choke me if it came back up. They held me down for another half-​​hour so that the liq­uid was absorbed by my stom­ach and could not be vom­ited back, and then began to pull the pipe out bit by bit.… Grrrr. There had just been time for every­thing to start heal­ing dur­ing the night when they came back in the morn­ing and did it all over again, for 10 days, when the guards could stand it no longer. As it hap­pened, it was a Sun­day and no bosses were around. They sur­rounded the doc­tor: “Hey, lis­ten, let him drink it straight from the bowl, let him sip it. It’ll be quicker for you, too, you silly old fool.” The doc­tor was in tears: “Do you think I want to go to jail because of you lot? No, I can’t do that.… ” And so they stood over my body, curs­ing each other, with bloody bub­bles com­ing out of my nose. On the 12^th day, the author­i­ties sur­ren­dered; they had run out of time. I had got­ten my lawyer, but nei­ther the doc­tor nor those guards could ever look me in the eye again.

[tags]fascism,political activism,war on terror,link,quote[/tags]