DIY Surgery
Majoringram tells us: I once had a wart on my hand and went to the doc to get it frozen. It hurt, lots. Instead of having to go back for more, I got my trusty rambo knife and cut the thing off. Three years later, and not even a scar!
( , Thu 20 Jan 2011, 12:08)
Majoringram tells us: I once had a wart on my hand and went to the doc to get it frozen. It hurt, lots. Instead of having to go back for more, I got my trusty rambo knife and cut the thing off. Three years later, and not even a scar!
( , Thu 20 Jan 2011, 12:08)
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E + Fire = Ouchy.
Not so much surgery, but I never have a story for QOTW (such is my uninteresting and sheltered existence), so here goes.
The year was 2007 and I was in my final year at Swansea University. If you have ever lived in South Wales then you know that for 9 months of the year the weather is very wet and pretty cold, but for that remaining 3 months it is glorious, particularly along the Gower Peninsula.
It had reached that point in the year where the weather was fine and as graduation was almost upon us, we decided to have a beach party on Swansea Bay. It was a great time, much revelry took place and it is to this day one of the best times I have had.
Now to the ouchy point. Once it got dark, we filched a load of abandoned bits of wood from some nearby building site and made a large fire. Everyone was still enjoying themselves an incredible amount and many were massively intoxicated - I myself was off my tits on ecstasy. Such was my level of intoxication that at one point it took me a good 20 seconds or so to realise that I was stood on a small pile of burning embers from the fire. As soon as the pain hit, I hopped around for a sec and then buried both my tootsies in some cool sand to remove the burning sensation. And that was that. The revelry continued and we carried on til about 8 or 9am before returning to bed. Good times.
When I woke up later, I almost immediately remembered what happened and checked my feet. About 50% of the flesh on both the soles of my feet had been removed. It didn't hurt, really, but there was a fair bit of pus and they were still covered in sand. I gingerly gave them a wash whilst considering whether or not I should go to the doc. I came to the conclusion that the only way it would heal was for the layer of skin to grow back of its own accord while I endeavoured to keep the affected area clean; that is exactly what I did. I spent the next few weeks with my socks stuffed with toilet tissue, limping slightly and washing my feet every few hours. Needless to say, they were absolutely fine and have been ever since.
( , Tue 25 Jan 2011, 9:26, Reply)
Not so much surgery, but I never have a story for QOTW (such is my uninteresting and sheltered existence), so here goes.
The year was 2007 and I was in my final year at Swansea University. If you have ever lived in South Wales then you know that for 9 months of the year the weather is very wet and pretty cold, but for that remaining 3 months it is glorious, particularly along the Gower Peninsula.
It had reached that point in the year where the weather was fine and as graduation was almost upon us, we decided to have a beach party on Swansea Bay. It was a great time, much revelry took place and it is to this day one of the best times I have had.
Now to the ouchy point. Once it got dark, we filched a load of abandoned bits of wood from some nearby building site and made a large fire. Everyone was still enjoying themselves an incredible amount and many were massively intoxicated - I myself was off my tits on ecstasy. Such was my level of intoxication that at one point it took me a good 20 seconds or so to realise that I was stood on a small pile of burning embers from the fire. As soon as the pain hit, I hopped around for a sec and then buried both my tootsies in some cool sand to remove the burning sensation. And that was that. The revelry continued and we carried on til about 8 or 9am before returning to bed. Good times.
When I woke up later, I almost immediately remembered what happened and checked my feet. About 50% of the flesh on both the soles of my feet had been removed. It didn't hurt, really, but there was a fair bit of pus and they were still covered in sand. I gingerly gave them a wash whilst considering whether or not I should go to the doc. I came to the conclusion that the only way it would heal was for the layer of skin to grow back of its own accord while I endeavoured to keep the affected area clean; that is exactly what I did. I spent the next few weeks with my socks stuffed with toilet tissue, limping slightly and washing my feet every few hours. Needless to say, they were absolutely fine and have been ever since.
( , Tue 25 Jan 2011, 9:26, Reply)
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