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This is a question Body Horror

Mictoboy writes, "I once picked a spot on my cheek only for a half-inch long ingrown hair to coil out covered in pus."

How has your own body made you recoil in disgust?

(, Thu 11 Jul 2013, 14:02)
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The birth of Lak Junior
Not a horror for me as much as a horror for Mr. LakAttack. Or really any guy who has watched their kid be born.

Well, if you're one of those people that actually are allowed in the room for those sorts of things. I was at one of those neato new style hospitals where they were really careful about who they let in the room, but anybody you did allow seemed to instantly become part of the helper crew. That would just be poor Mr. LakAttack, who in lieu of stirrups, was my "right leg holder/right foot brace for when I pushed" And got a very very front row show for the spectacle. Doc took a single look at that kid's head size and said "nope!!" and grabbed some huge surgical snips and made him a proper exit. So he got to watch my special parts get sliced up, then a purple slimy crying monster emerged. I think he looked at the wrong time and also saw the placenta. Poor guy. The best part about having the kid is you don't have to see it happen. I did have the courage to look at my stitches one time though the day after, but it was also after I had stopped putting ice on it for a few hours. Yeah. Don't get a mirror and have a look see. That'd be my advice.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 5:48, 12 replies)
The then Mr Quar was present for all 4 of our kids' births and like Mr LakAttack didn't turn a hair,
whereas when I saw a film of a birth during my first pregnancy I felt faint and had to be carried out.

Good job we have these big strong men, eh.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 7:37, closed)
didn't turn a hair
It's good to be supportive! Mr. Lak was a tad put off, but damned if he wasn't the absolute best and most supportive that day. He's still a bit cool on the prospect of a second though.
(, Wed 17 Jul 2013, 9:45, closed)
Was this in the 1960s or do you live in some archaic colonial backwater?

(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 7:50, closed)
Watching them slice my missus from hip-bone to hip-bone (pretty much)
as told in this tale (the birth obviously not the mastectomy), wasn't half as scary as the (probably) 30 sec. or so it took them to drag my daughter out of her innards, shuggle her in a towel to clean her and make sure she was awake, do a couple of quick tests (hearing & responsiveness I think) and then finally hand her to me.
EDIT: They had made it very clear that because I had refused to leave and it was against SOP, if I fainted they weren't going to deal with me until after the baby and my wife were ok.
By that time they were starting to put the missus back together again, and had assured me thru my tears of fear, frustration and relief that altho my daughter was absolutely fine I couldn't keep hold of her to move around the hospital and had to put her in the mobile, clear, crib thingy.
At that stage I lost all "fight".
EDIT: They don't fuck around when they do emergency caesarians - no slow, precise surgeons cuts. Slice, rummage, drag it out. Quickly.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 8:01, closed)
...and that's exactly why I statyed firmly at the head end for both of my wife's deliveries
Both cesarians - why would I want my memory of the event to be the sight of her insides being sliced and diced?
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 11:00, closed)

My missus had a natural childbirth, albeit induced, owing to mini-me being in an odd position and seemingly in some distress.

She wanted me in the room with her, and I agreed. However, we both agreed some months before, that my eyes should stay north of the equator, and for that, I am eternally happy. I really didn't want to see her bits in a state of severe distress. I have seen many recordings of other births, good and bad - but I had no desire to see my girl's body in that state.

At the end of it, the amount of blood on the floor was up in the 'mop and bucket' range. It looked like something from a slasher flick, but with the super-clean highly polished, clean white tiles of the delivery suite.

She was was pale through blood loss, tired, worn and very badly torn, but ever so happy. My wee lad then flipped the bird to me, and latched.

The immortal words of a dear and departed mate who had practised medicine for a good fifty years in Australia mostly, and PNG for a while, still ring in my ears: "Why women want to do this to themselves is beyond me." He was a father of three. He left this place a few days short of his ninetieth birthday, with a smile on his face, just over a year ago. He was a joker during his lifetime, and doubtless he had a funny thought during those terminal moments.

The prize for the most horror that a human body can display to its owner? Childbirth - by a country mile.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 13:29, closed)
Really, the worst?
Google some images of Fournier's gangrene and you may feel differently.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 0:06, closed)

Cannot unsee. Thanks, mate!

All else I see will be akin to pretty flowers.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 9:52, closed)
As a ladygirl, why other women would want to go through this is beyond me too!
Bring on the not-so-dystopian future with warehouses full of artificial uteri, I say.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 11:34, closed)
I was at the 'business end' for the birth of my daughter. Was all fine until the forceps went in. Still I got to help my daughter out and got to cut the cord. Placenta looked like corned beef hash.

(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 18:36, closed)
I'll bet you
it tasted like liver though.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 22:20, closed)
clarification from my husband
Yeah, he saw the placenta. He said as beautiful as the whole experience of holding his son was, all the parts before were slightly nightmare fuel for him. I'd probably agree.
(, Wed 17 Jul 2013, 9:49, closed)

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