Standing there with both sets of arms clutched around your torso, you take deep breaths through the pain and are really surprised to feel another pair of stubs emerging lower down, just above your hips. They flail wildly as they grow, even as your other six limbs stay still and sweat drips down your forehead. Soon the new appendages each get ten fingers of their own, the pain subsides, you stand back up, and feel lightheaded for a second until it passes.
Six arms! You wave them all around, letting them take turns poking and prodding and grabbing each other. You have 30 fingers! Isn't that a little too many? How many more appendages could a person possibly have?
Oddly enough, though, coordinating all eight total limbs comes surprisingly easy to you, and you make your way to the door again. You use your six palms to feel along the steel door, when your two eyes notice a large keypad beside the door. There's a little LCD display above it as well. Maybe you can figure out how to open it from here? Two hands continue to rest idly on the door, one hand reaches down to long steel bar door handle (which doesn't budge), one hand comes up to put a finger in your mouth in a thoughtful expression, and two hands go to the keypad to start cycling through menus.
At first nothing's in a language you understand, but you manage to find the language settings. It's still mostly a confusing jumble of names and numbers, so you bring one of the idle hands to the keypad to speed up the action. You're wondering if maybe you're getting somewhere when the pain starts again.