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I once participated in a medical study related to the development of a male contraceptive. As part of this study I had to get my balls measured. Apparently there's a tool for doing this, it's called an orchidometer and it's basically a ring of squishy beads that the doctor compares one of your balls against. The reason they had to measure them was because they had to know how much anesthetic to give, because they had to get fluid from my balls, and not the fun way. They had to draw it, which meant a needle in each of my balls. One at the beginning of the trial, and the other a few months later at the end. So I figured, okay this is going to hurt no matter what they do, they're sticking a needle in my goddamn balls, anesthetic's probably going just dull the peaks like at the dentist or something but I'll still feel something. They injected the anesthetic higher up near some major nerve that leads down to the balls. After it took effect and the rest of the preparations were complete, I sat and watched the doctor hold one of my balls between the thumb and forefinger of one hand. In the thumb and forefinger of her other, she held a HUGE needle. She gently squeezed my ball and I could kind of maybe sense a bit of pressure but otherwise it felt numb. She told me to lay back, and then to cough on 3 because the cough would distract me from feeling the jab, and I was like yeah I know that trick, and then on 3 I coughed and then she did it and then the entire universe exploded in red. For a moment, literally nothing existed except for my testicle and the spike of metal impaling it. I gripped the armrests of the chair as hard as I possibly could and strained to control my body, both to distract myself and also to keep from jerking around suddenly. All I could think was, if I move wrong I might mess something up, then she's going to have to pull out and start over, and getting stabbed in the loving balls isn't going to be somehow better the second time. So I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on breathing, in and out, in and out. I fixated on a thought that became a mantra: "If I say stop, we have to start over, just loving do it, don't stop, just do it, don't stop, just do it" My eyes were squeezed shut, but I could hear the concern in the doctor's voice when she asked, "Are you okay?" I couldn't even vocalize but I nodded. By this point about 5-10 seconds had passed, max. Then she started to squeeze. See, the needle wasn't going to just suck fluid out of my testicle, that would be dangerous. It had to be palpated. My eyes flew open, probably bulging, and I saw the nurse and assistant that were in there to help, and they were both looking at me like "uhhh." If I weren't having my ball squeezed around a needle I might have recognized this as a sign that something was wrong. But the needle was in, and I wasn't about to say "stop" just so we could start over again. My body was screaming. Every single muscle in my body was straining and I started sweating profusely. I wouldn't notice until afterward but in the space of about half a minute I'd totally soaked through my t-shirt and the paper I was laying on. The doc asked again, more concerned this time, "Are you sure you're okay? Do you want to stop?" I shook my head. The nurse said, "Are you sure? You're sweating..." I became unreasonably furious that they kept asking me to stop, and I couldn't form any other words than what'd been repeating in my head, so I managed to lift my head up and choke out "just DO IT!" before dropping my head back down and thinking, I'm sweating like a stuck loving pig here. I mainly remember that because of the mixed metaphor. The doctor said, "I'm making the call, we're taking a break." I managed the weakest "no" as she withdrew the needle, but in the wave of relief after it was gone I didn't care about anything in the world. I briefly considered opting out of the study (another thing I was worried might happen if they stopped) but was like gently caress no, not after I've gotten this far, then I'd have just gotten stuck in the balls for nothing. I asked how long it had been. Just over a minute. The whole thing was supposed to take an estimated 5 minutes from beginning to end, and I'd barely cleared a minute. So they injected me again, this time with ~2x the original anesthetic dose, and gave me about 10 minutes to recover. When the doc came back, I coughed, she jabbed, and... felt nothing. Well not nothing exactly, I had a vague sense of something kind of happening in the area, but compared to before it was absolute blessed loving nothing. I was even able to carry on a conversation while she palpated my testicle and got her sample. Then, because I didn't have a car, I got to ride a motorcycle home! And that's how I found out my balls are 33cc apiece. e: Oh yeah I also got paid $1500. That's $750 per ball stab! deals. Son of Thunderbeast has a new favorite as of 08:23 on May 2, 2020 |
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May 2, 2020 08:21
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Ouch. Reading that just made think about all those poor bastards in the Civil War getting their legs sawed off with nothing but maybe some alcohol and a bunch of people to hold them down. If I had to do it, I'd still take Robert Liston even if he swung and missed, he'd be out of there in less than a minute.
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May 2, 2020 09:10
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DrBouvenstein posted:
Lido and all that work fine for me but not my brother. Turns out benzos don’t work on me, which sucks for major dental work. I was 18 when I got my wisdom teeth out and they had to put me down three times with the Midazolam/fent combo before they had to say “gently caress it, we’re maxed out” and switch to a local. It was loving awful. My dad wanted to interrogate me while I was hazed and was very dissapointed to find out I was not.
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May 3, 2020 14:57
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My sister has a history of being a bit of a hypochondriac, especially back when she was in high school. Fair enough, I didn't like PE either, but she took it to another level. So she's about 16 and by all accounts she has the worst period pain known to mankind. Our mother has been dealing with this for six years (early bloomer, poor thing), so she is not feeling particularly sympathetic, and my sister has a big set of exams coming up. So I wake up to my sister screaming in her bedroom, probably around 7-8am. Not unusual, that's prime "I don't want to take my exam" hours. I get up and take the family car to university as usual. I only know what happened in the interim second-hand: my sister somehow convinced our mother to get a neighbour to drive them both to hospital. While sis was being examined, Mum made it very clear she had an exam she was going to miss and that they needed to get out of their ASAP. Apparently, the examining doctor looked her dead in the eye: "She will leave when I say she can leave." So around 10am I get the call that my sister is going into surgery. An ovarian cyst the size of a chicken egg has burst and if not for the quick thinking of the doctor and surgeon, she would have gone into septic shock within an hour. And she's never let our mother forget it. As for me, I got my wisdom tooth out and my whole face swelled up and I spent the night in hospital  Much less dramatic, but jesus gently caress it hurt.
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May 3, 2020 18:38
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Having had an ovarian cyst surgically removed, I can confirm that your sister is a goddamned saint for not murdering you all in your beds. Six years of your MOM having to tolerate this?! I hope your sister has it chiseled on her gravestone. Sadly that’s pretty par for the course for young women with severe period or pelvic pain. A lot of docs won’t even admit endometriosis exists. It took me weeks to even convince a doc to ultrasound my ovary, and I’m a medical professional! Five weeks of intermittent ovarian torsion, frequent cramping with vomiting, and constant pain, and suddenly I was having emergency surgery SURPRISE.
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May 3, 2020 20:19
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elise the great posted:Having had an ovarian cyst surgically removed, I can confirm that your sister is a goddamned saint for not murdering you all in your beds. Six years of your MOM having to tolerate this?! I hope your sister has it chiseled on her gravestone. To clarify she didn't have the cyst for six years or I definitely wouldn't be alive to post this, it was more like six months from memory, but yes, I don't think even she suspected it until it burst because she'd had "it's normal to be in agony for a week every month" drilled into her brain all her life. Meanwhile for me: "When did you have your last period?" "Uh, seven years ago?" I really need to change my gender marker but it's a goddamn pain.
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May 3, 2020 22:16
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I haven't had a period in over ten years thanks to the Mirena IUD. If I ever get it removed and not replaced, it's gonna be like Puberty Part Two around here.
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May 4, 2020 00:25
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HelloIAmYourHeart posted:I haven't had a period in over ten years thanks to the Mirena IUD. If I ever get it removed and not replaced, it's gonna be like Puberty Part Two around here.  For the first several years, my gynecologist would say, "Mirena! So no bleeding, right? ...poo poo."I did give a nurse a momentary fright several months after my son was born (pre-IUC) when I told her I hadn't had a period in something like 16 months.
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May 4, 2020 01:23
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Son of Thunderbeast posted:I once participated in a medical study related to the development of a male contraceptive. As part of this study I had to get my balls measured. Apparently there's a tool for doing this, it's called an orchidometer and it's basically a ring of squishy beads that the doctor compares one of your balls against. so I had see one of those before, but because the guy from pirates of the caribbean talked about it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNqY4tIL7no
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May 4, 2020 01:25
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Ugly In The Morning posted:Lido and all that work fine for me but not my brother. Turns out benzos don’t work on me, which sucks for major dental work. I was 18 when I got my wisdom teeth out and they had to put me down three times with the Midazolam/fent combo before they had to say “gently caress it, we’re maxed out” and switch to a local. It was loving awful. My dad wanted to interrogate me while I was hazed and was very dissapointed to find out I was not. Man,dental work is way different in the US. I've never heard of anyone being put under unless they had straight up dental surgery done or maybe suffered from panic attacks. I had my wisdom tooth (luckily just the one) removed under local as a matter of course and while it wasn't fun, I wouldn't mind doing it again. Seems a bit unnecessary to involve total anesthesia and/or opiates.
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May 4, 2020 07:37
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Capilarean posted:Man,dental work is way different in the US. I've never heard of anyone being put under unless they had straight up dental surgery done or maybe suffered from panic attacks. I had my wisdom tooth (luckily just the one) removed under local as a matter of course and while it wasn't fun, I wouldn't mind doing it again. Seems a bit unnecessary to involve total anesthesia and/or opiates. I was fully sedated to have all four removed (three were coming in sideways) and had a prescription for Vicodin afterward. It was all fine and uneventful, but the last thing I remember before the surgery is somebody saying, "Oops."
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May 4, 2020 08:04
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Capilarean posted:Man,dental work is way different in the US. I've never heard of anyone being put under unless they had straight up dental surgery done or maybe suffered from panic attacks. I had my wisdom tooth (luckily just the one) removed under local as a matter of course and while it wasn't fun, I wouldn't mind doing it again. Seems a bit unnecessary to involve total anesthesia and/or opiates. I was getting all four out, which is not something you want to be awake for. I was only awake for half of it and fuuuuck that. My pain tolerance wasn’t quite what it is now back then but feeling the vibrations of the saw in my skull was...eurggh.
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May 4, 2020 10:56
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Once upon a time, I had a (noncancer) cyst removed from my jawbone. All went well, and I ate baby food for two weeks (if you add seasonings, it tastes like real food). After healing up sufficiently, I wanted dental implants to fill the hole in my smile, and they needed to thicken my remaining jawbone with a bone graft first, and I was awake but well-drugged. That also went well, but the implantologist and assistant were a bit nonplussed when, about halfway through, I asked if I could have a bathroom break. Hey, when you gotta pee, you gotta pee.
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May 4, 2020 20:31
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Got my gallbladder removed yesterday. First major surgery I've ever had. I imagine I'll spend the next week toddling around the house or passed out on the couch with an ice pack. The cats know I'm not feeling well and either want to sprawl on or parkour off my poor tum.
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May 5, 2020 22:58
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queserasera posted:Got my gallbladder removed yesterday. First major surgery I've ever had. I imagine I'll spend the next week toddling around the house or passed out on the couch with an ice pack. The cats know I'm not feeling well and either want to sprawl on or parkour off my poor tum. rough, history of gallstones or was something else the matter. It sucks to have it out since it means you need to change your diet. Limiting fats and oils can be hard if you eat out or get quick meals I know
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May 5, 2020 23:06
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UCS Hellmaker posted:rough, history of gallstones or was something else the matter. It sucks to have it out since it means you need to change your diet. Limiting fats and oils can be hard if you eat out or get quick meals I know I started 2020 with really bad acid reflux that would wake me up around 2-3 in the morning and prevent me from going back to sleep. Five months later I finally get an ultrasound and there's a colony of dime-sized gallstones hanging out in there. I don't eat a lot of dairy or red meat. Fried foods are probably the culprit. I've been changing my diet these last few months (more water, more root veggies, no soda, no caffeine, nothing after 8pm, etc.) so if you have any advice for more tweaks I'll gladly take it. I have been drinking carbonated fruit juice though, just trying to get that excess gas out.
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May 5, 2020 23:18
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Ugly In The Morning posted:I was getting all four out, which is not something you want to be awake for. I was only awake for half of it and fuuuuck that. My pain tolerance wasn’t quite what it is now back then but feeling the vibrations of the saw in my skull was...eurggh. I was put under when I got my four out. The doc knew he was going to have to break at least two, and he did. Ridiculously easy recovery too.
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May 5, 2020 23:29
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queserasera posted:[surgerybro] Me too! Am fading in nad out of consciousness, just got home a few hours ago. Robotoc cholecystectomy. Doc said he was one of the worst ones he'd seen in a little while, looking forward to the post-op check-up to get a fuller story than what i'm hearing from the wife. When the anesthetic was administered my hearing went compressed and artifacty. Was like blinking from the OR to the recovery room. Felt like I was taking too long to recover - woke up nearly an hour after I was expecting to already be out the door. I had severely unerderestmianted the recovery process.
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May 6, 2020 02:42
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10 odd years ago I had what I think was diagnosed as kidney stones. Day 1, in a fair bit of pain, I leave early from work and visit the doctor that was literally downstairs of my apartment, who diagnoses it as nothing much given the only symptom at that point is vague pains. Day 2, pissing blood, I trek downstairs once again, and the doc goes, okay sounds a lot like kidney stones, if it gets any worse, go to hospital, but odds are probably good you'll just pass it. Day 3, I'm not sure what the gently caress is going on, I've been puking since 11pm the night before, my mum takes me to the emergency room of the nearest hospital. So, unfortunately for me I look like a loving mess - all pale and sweaty, puke stains on my shirt and I happened to dress like a bit of a punk kid. Mum drops me off at the doors to see the triage nurse while she goes to find parking. I go through the triage process and am taken through surprisingly quickly to a gurney and left... I have no idea how much time passes but mother dear arrives at the hospital and inquires where her son is, to find I'm laid out in the foetal position and groaning in agony in a hallway. Luckily, she's a nurse (midwife speciality) and quickly explains that the doctor thinks it's kidney stones and I need pain killers. The nurses apologise and explain in turn they thought I was a junkie drying out and wheel me into a room and prep me for a cannula and morphine. Further downside to being me at this point in time is I loving hate needles - passing out was pretty common for everything from vaccinations to blood tests, although this time it gets REAL. I've been up all night puking, my stomach's on empty and nurses are trying to get me to hold still long enough while I'm in the worst pain I've ever felt in my life to stick a needle in me. One of them strikes gold, but I thrash in pain, the cannula bends, I see it, I barf a fountain of yellow all over the nearest nurse and pass out. I woke up an unknown time later wearing a paper gown and with the sheets under me covered in what I believe at the time to be an arterial blood spray and realise I'm loving trolleyed. I have no idea what's going on, but I spend 95% of the time apologising to all the nurses for vomiting and having to clean me up. I'm taken to some kind of scan (maybe an ultrasound from memory?) but no sign of the stones. A few hours later I'm asked to piss, and despite it being blood tinged, I think they come to the conclusion I probably passed it while peeing in the room. I remember at one point while waiting for the scan my sister showed up and I walked through the hospital in my paper gown and out the front with my saline IV drop bag (?) having a cigarette (this is before smoking bans near hospitals) and extremely loudly saying the most outrageous poo poo because my filter was bypassed. I really hope I never get kidney stones again, because I can't even begin to describe the absolute agony I was in, nothing before or after has ever compared.
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May 6, 2020 13:00
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I'm pretty sure I've told this story on SA before, so sorry if you're bored. When my husband got his vasectomy, the doctor took him into a separate room and asked if he was sure he wanted a vasectomy, because what if his next wife wanted children. I am not making this up. Husband was both freaked out and livid.
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May 6, 2020 16:34
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Many years ago, I had endometriosis and needed surgery for it. (Laparoscope with attached laser for zapping things.) I asked if they could tie my tubes while they were in there. Doctor says "one of the ways to prevent new endometriosis is to have a couple kids." To which I replied "Giving birth in a hospital cost the same as the 'scope surgery, and I wouldn't have to pay for college. I've known since I was 12 that I didn't want kids, and I've never changed my mind." And that is how I got my tubes cauterized with a cool laser-scope at age 23. He showed me the before-&-after pics, too.  Oh, and I've never had another round of endometriosis. I'm 51.
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May 6, 2020 21:45
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crowtribe posted:pissing blood I posted before about having Henoch-Scholein Purpura, but one of this things that it did was cause the blood vessels in my kidneys to leak, so I was peeing various amount of blood for weeks, so I had to get a urinalysis done weekly. Meanwhile, I had a biopsy on my leg to confirm the diagnosis, and it got a staph infection so I had to be on antibiotics until the wound healed from the bottom. I never puked so much in my life. I did a urinalysis after a day of particularly hard vomiting, and my urine was the color of Coca-Cola.
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May 7, 2020 02:35
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So you had rhabdo. Your first interaction with someone that has rhabdo is interesting btw. Basically they have worked their muscles or have such severe damage that the muscle basically starts falling apart, and the waste products as it breaks down the bad muscle collect in the kidneys causing the heavy brown urine. Much of the waste is protein breakdown products that is extremely harsh on your kidneys, which is typically why rhabdo patients can suffer from temporary acute kidney failure. Their kidneys just can't process the amount of crap that is built-up and will poo poo down until they can recover. CrossFit brought rhabdo back to the for front and we've seen a few patients that were heroin users that had overdosed pretty badly.
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May 7, 2020 02:52
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UCS Hellmaker posted:So you had rhabdo. Well, no one ever used that word, even the nephrologists. Googling brought up some results suggesting HSP can cause rhabdo, though, so I guess it could be. I certainly wasn't working out or anything. I was in so much pain I could barely move.
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May 7, 2020 03:24
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HelloIAmYourHeart posted:Well, no one ever used that word, even the nephrologists. Googling brought up some results suggesting HSP can cause rhabdo, though, so I guess it could be. Sorry if I sounded condensing  but it does sound like it based on what you described. The all over body aches sure fit to. That sucks regardless and hopefully you didn't have long term damage when everything settled down. You don't have any muscle weakness or similar do you?
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May 7, 2020 04:19
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Nope, that was nearly eight years ago and all that remains are a couple little pockmark scars, one on each leg. I do freak out a little whenever I have any red spots on my legs, even if they're a bug bite or something.
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May 7, 2020 04:34
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So many ballsack stories. Here's mine. TW: suicidal ideation. I had groin pain/strain after some major squash sessions. I used to play, so fun. Anyway, they ordered an ultrasound as it looked like a sports hernia (where the muscle distends into the scrotal sack, if I remember correctly). Fast forward to the ultrasound and a very gorgeous if very pregnant technician spends a lot of time rubbing the wand over my right testicle. The pain was on the left side. What are you doing, lady? I went home and in the back of my mind is this picture of a very tiny red neon sign that glows, "CANCER" - sure enough I get a call the next day to go to the referring doctor's office. It was a mediclinic so the doc is a different person. I am the last patient of the day. He literally comes in with his golf clothes on - gloves too - opens my chart with a big smile and immediately looks like someone punched him in the stomach. He gives me the diagnosis (a tumor in my right testicle, completely embedded inside the testicle so self checking would never have caught it), and refers me and lets me know that if it's the good kind of testicular cancer I have a good prognosis. Fast forward to the urologist drawing a line on my abdomen and signing it (wtf), and the surgery. I woke up in horrific pain. They don't open your ballsack. They take it out, and all the plumbing, and burn or remove the lymph nodes tracing up to your bladder and I had no idea. The pain was debilitating and I have a high pain tolerance. But when I woke up all the surgeons had left for the weekend to golf (theme) and no one would write a script for better pain meds. I think they gave me Tylenol 3s. For the next week I needed to have an empty soda bottle next to me to pee because I couldn't move with ease and any pressure on my bladder cause inconceivable pain. edit: forgot to add that the urology surgeon made me get a second ultrasound because he couldn't feel the tumor and wanted to see the ultrasound himself. The second technician was also very hot and also very pregnant! You cannot make this poo poo up. But tumor confirmed, and it was a big one for that type of cancer. I then developed a healthy MSRA infection and had to take horse pills for that. Meanwhile it took about a month for the labs to biopsy and determine whether it was seminoma (good) or non-seminoma (bad) cancer. I was in a wheelchair for a bit because the infection was so painful. I didn't tell anyone about the different cancers, I figured if I was going to die I'd let everyone live in relatively lesser anxiety during that period of time. I'd had a vacation scheduled for Vegas at that time but I still went, obviously. My brother in law had to lift me in and out of the rental car. So I had the good kind in the end and my oncologist recommended two rounds of carboplatin because studies showed it reduced regression by about 15% or so (iirc). I proceeded with chemo. I was still teaching and training as a road cyclist, and so I started falling asleep at work on my lunch break. Of course I told my boss, but I didn't want anyone to know, so I asked her to tell the staff I had "occasional narcolepsy" - LOL. I lost a lot of weight. I am 5'9" and I was down to about 125 pounds. Oh and, by the "good kind" as my oncologist put it, that's like saying the good kind of a kick from a mule. The chemo was awful. I only had two rounds, so I don't want to complain, but jesus. The dreams. And ten years later I still have ulcers from that poo poo. Fast forward to 2016 when I underwent therapy for a late-in-life diagnosis of whatever you want to call it - borderline, PTSD complex. I had dealt with most of the issues, being in my late 30s, but struggled with suicidal ideation. I didn't talk about it in group but my 1:1 therapist told me to look up the causes for testicular cancer after a story I told her. It turns out the childhood physical trauma to your testes is linked to later occurrences of cancer. When I was 6, 7, 8 years old my elementary school would do a yearly swimming trip to a local indoor pool with diving platforms. How they let children on these things I do not know, but I was always dared to jump off the 40-foot platform because, well, I would (jumping to my death has been a fixation all my life; I am better now thank you). The last time I did this at the age of eight, my legs fluttered apart and and I hit the water hard - absolutely hammering my right testicle. I barely made it out of the pool, threw up copiously, and my testicle swelled up to the size of an orange for a few days. That being the 1980s, I told no one and never thought about it again. Until I made it home from therapy that day and it all came together. So suicidal ideation almost killed me from a conscious action occurring 30 years prior. Whatever else is true in life, irony always has your back. Huggybear has a new favorite as of 05:31 on May 7, 2020 |
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May 7, 2020 05:25
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So in no particular order, the three most painful injuries I've had were sliced off fingertip, separated shoulder, and broken ankle. Here are the  pictures of my sliced fingertip, circa 2008:  This injury wins for not the most immediately painful (ankle break gets that one), but the most lingering pain that night (though the shoulder was a close second.) Anything that even grazed the tip of my finger was sheer agony for a couple days. Thankfully, it was my left index and I'm right handed, and at the time didn't have a desk job and wasn't in school, so didn't have to do a lot of typing. But my job was working in a kitchen, so there was still plenty of incidental finger tapping on lots of things in the kitchen. Edit: And last winter, I sliced that same finger again, though a little lower, entirely on the finger "pad" and not the nail:  And a couple days later when it started to heal:  I actually cut my fingerpad so bad, it messed up my fingerprint and I had to re-teach my phone to unlock with the new one. Edit: Jesus loving Christ, this post cursed me...I cut that same finger again this morning... My coffee pot exploded on me and sliced that finger good along the side. As before,   I think my left index finger has a death wish... DrBouvenstein has a new favorite as of 02:56 on May 11, 2020 |
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May 8, 2020 01:38
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DrBouvenstein posted:My coffee pot exploded. Serious condolences, I've seen real bad finger cuts when I worked in a kitchen. Hands, feet, and ears also bleed LIKE gently caress compared to the same cut somewhere else on the body. But I gotta know how did your coffee pot exploded??? Was it a faulty piece of kitchenware? Rapid temp change from running it under cold water or something? I have touched very many coffee pots in my life, and only ever seen them break from being dropped. Were you synthesizing some novel chem in your Mr. Coffee that eats glass???
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Jun 2, 2020 07:28
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DrBouvenstein posted:I think my left index finger has a death wish... Have you considered investing in a metal gauntlet, or at least some chainmail gloves?
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Jun 2, 2020 08:47
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WITCHCRAFT posted:
Exploded may have been an overstatement, it shattered while I was holding it, really my fault for holding it in a weird way. I was washing it (it was cold, so not from a temp difference) and was sort of "pinching" the glass with my thumb and index finger on the left hand rather than hold it by the handle, and when pushing on it with my thumb to tilt it up to wash the other side, it shattered.
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Jun 2, 2020 17:03
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Just posting as a reminder to myself to write up some interesting hoarder house EMS stories either later tonight or tomorrow. I took a 500 pound guy out of a hoarder house last night and it reminded me of some of the interesting bits of that whole thing. Especially when there’s other factors involved like obesity, this guy had a minor injury but it absolutely would have killed him if he stayed in his apartment.
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Jun 2, 2020 17:36
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That's just gonna be  incarnate.Post it tho.
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Jun 2, 2020 18:19
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Well, my attempts to continue napping have failed, so I'll start with the one from last night. There's certain addresses that you just go "gently caress!" when you hear a call drop at, and that's how the whole call started- we had never had any contact with this guy before but the address was for an apartment complex that was converted from an old motel and calls there always have some kind of hosed up element to them. For example, I've been attacked there. Twice. I really did not want to be going there again. When we did get there, we open the door and can only get it about halfway open without running into the tremendous fellow sitting in the chair that was in the only area clear enough of garbage to hold him. The trash was piled at least 5'6" high and covered the entire rest of the room, save for a small path to get to the bathroom that had some blood on it. He had gotten up and started walking the path and either tripped or just fell under his own weight and slashed his ankle a little bit- the cut wasn't terribly deep, maybe 2-3 inches long. We were so lucky he was actually able to stand and walk, though, since I don't think we could have physically removed him without having to call the fire department to take out a chunk of the wall. Now, you wouldn't think that a small cut like that is worth a trip to the ER, but he'll probably have to be admitted to the hospital for it, and then put in a nursing home until it's done healing, which is likely to be a while, his circulation in his extremeties is for sure terrible- and even then, APS may not let him out on his own again. Why all that for such a small cut? He literally cannot reach his ankle to keep it clean, which is kind of a big deal when you spend most of your life living in a MRSA paradise. If he stayed home, or went back with that cut, it would be insanely infected basically instantly, and he would be facing gangrene and sepsis within a week. He wasn't able to even able to reach down to put on pants, let alone wash anything that low- I have a strong stomach and when I opened the backdoor of my ambulance to start getting him out and saw his feet I almost barfed in my respirator mask... which I had to wear while driving, because the smell of the accumulated filth from this guy's living situation was making it hard to breathe even with the windows open. I'm hoping APS gets involved because otherwise he's probably not going to make it three months. There's another frequent flier who has constant falls from the accumulated clutter in her house- she has more floorspace so it's not stacked as high, but it was around knee-height the last time I was there. She doesn't always go to the hospital but always refuses to try to walk even with assistance, so we have to put her in a stairchair (one of these:  )to carry her out. This is bad for two reasons: One- it's a back injury waiting to happen. Two- even without having two people putting the weight of three people on their footprints, this woman's floor has started to rot because of the moisture and sugar from the decade+ of not quite empty soda cans laying around. Just on my own I've been walking through that house to get to where she is and felt the floor start to give under my foot. APS is reluctant to remove her from her home, but it's insanely frustrating because she's not only a risk to herself, she's a risk to a whole bunch of other people who have to go in and help her all the time.
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Jun 2, 2020 18:48
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Same I have to update just been really busy this last few weeks
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Jun 2, 2020 23:53
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letthereberock posted:This isn’t a super crazy one but thought I’d share because I found it funny. Last year I had a vasectomy, and I don’t know how common this is, but the doctor who did it schedules all of his vasectomies on one day per month, when he and his team just bang out like 25 of them back to back. I can’t imagine that’s a fun day for them, just ball sacks all day as far as the eye can see. I also had a vasectomy and the doctor was hilarious and making testicle jokes the whole time, the small talk helped a lot. Also I had assumed the procedure would be done with some death star laser like in James Bond where he's strapped to the table, but it turns out they just use electricity. Apparently they didn't 'ground' me properly because I got a few little shocks here are there, overall not too bad for an outpatient procedure.
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Jun 3, 2020 16:01
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WITCHCRAFT posted:I was given propofol (IV anesthetic) twice. Once for upper/lower endoscopy (they put a camera tube down your throat, then up your butt; hopefully in that order), and once for getting my wisdom teeth pulled. I knew ahead of time what they were using and googled the effects. Was curious if it was as strong as people said. Both times, I barely managed to say "wow, that's fast..." before blacking out completely. It is amazingly fast acting, even if you are expecting it. i was given it for the same reason and each time it feels like what i imagine a snake bite or shooting heroin into your veins feels like for about 5s. in that theres a burning sensation travelling up my veins. then i wake up later all fine and dandy with extreme dry mouth.
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Jun 3, 2020 18:49
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I had to get a pilonidal cyst removed and they put me under. Now me and anesthetic are not good friends so it takes me a long time to recover. It got to the point where my mom was allowed to come in. I started getting a migraine. (Not related.) Eventually I threw up and we all thought that was the end of that. I started getting another migraine and threw up again, another migraine, another vomit, over and over again. I begged for death from this 10/10 pain. Nothing helped. The nurses eventually decided to admit me over night and I felt better as I soon as I went to my hospital room. I still don't know what caused it.
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Jun 5, 2020 17:34
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Violet_Sky posted:I had to get a pilonidal cyst removed and they put me under. Now me and anesthetic are not good friends so it takes me a long time to recover. It got to the point where my mom was allowed to come in. I started getting a migraine. (Not related.) Eventually I threw up and we all thought that was the end of that. I started getting another migraine and threw up again, another migraine, another vomit, over and over again. I begged for death from this 10/10 pain. Nothing helped. The nurses eventually decided to admit me over night and I felt better as I soon as I went to my hospital room. I still don't know what caused it. Probably your brain having a shitton of glutamate kicking around from getting knocked off balance by the anesthetic. It’s the same reason people with hangovers get headaches and detoxing alcoholics get really bad headaches.
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Jun 5, 2020 17:36
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So about a year after a heinous ankle surgery that required repositioning my heel bones and having them held in place with two screws while they knit back together, the screws started migrating out and I had to have them removed, which meant another surgery. Nurse goes to give me... Versed, I guess it was. This was several years ago so I can't remember if it was a direct injection or an IV line (not sure if/whether there's a standard protocol for administering it). What I do remember is that it was the back of my left hand, and the instant it went in, my entire hand exploded in this burning agony. I remember trying to tell them something was severely wrong there and what I got in return was "don't worry, we're going to knock you out in a minute anyway." I recounted this later to a nurse friend of mine and her best guess was that the person who shot me up missed the vein and it went straight into my hand instead, but JFC it hurt like I'd never felt pain before. I insisted to my surgeon more than once that I wanted to keep those drat screws when they extracted them and even made sure he put it in his notes, because goddammit I paid for them. Sure enough, once they got them out (which he told me later was harder than they expected because apparently he had a hard time getting a good angle to remove one of them), they autoclaved them and put them in a sterile pack for me. I still have them:  They're about 2 inches long and almost 1/4-inch in diameter. I would have never thought anything that big could fit in my heel bones. Edit: LOL I linked here from another thread and had no idea I was performing thread necromancy. Zamboni Rodeo has a new favorite as of 17:31 on Mar 30, 2022 |
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Mar 30, 2022 17:23
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