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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Not so much surgery as upkeep
Many moons ago, when I was a scared young thing at university, I managed to set my right leg on fire using a can of deoderant and an ill-placed candle. As a result, I lost most of the skin below my knee. It hurt like the dickens.
After about a week of going to the hospital every other day (a 2 hour journey, because the general in a university town wasn't equipped), the nurses gave me a load of bandages, gauze, and silver cream in preparation for the time when it would be healed enough for me to change my own dressing. Top banana, thought I, and well done them for being so forward thinking.
2 days later, I arrived for my appointment to discover the doors were locked. They weren't open at weekends, according to a nearby custodian, and the same was true of the Bank Holiday coming up. They had booked me in for a day they were shut. Shit.
So I went home, and tried to brave the increasing stench of my own putrefying flesh. 12 hours later, against all medical advice, I'm drinking vodka, alone, in my room, and the smell is absolutely overpowering. One or 2 of my closest friends have already informed me that people are avoiding me until the smell goes away.
"Fuck this" think I, "No piffling booboo is going to keep me from seeing my (admittedly cunty) flatmates!"
And so, using the same candle I'd set myself on fire with, I sterilised a knife and a pair of pliers, laid out all my tools on the least disgusting part of my desk, cranked up the Slayer, and went about re-enacting the procedure I'd seen performed on me maybe 4 times before.
3 things about this shocked me. Firstly, the amount of disgusting crap that oozes out of a burn wound. The inside of my bandage looked like Satan's hankey.
Secondly, just how much pain you can handle with the right frame of mind. I had to cut all the dead skin away (down to where it met the live, plus a few millimetres), scrape the litres of pus off, pick hairs out of the crusty wounds, and eventually sterilise the whole area, before wrapping everything up. By the end I was singing.
Thirdly, just how bad an idea it is to use vodka as a sterilising agent. It works, sure, but when it seeps in and the pain hits you like a half brick in a sock, causing you to fall backwards off your chair, you don't half feel stupid.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 10:13, 9 replies)
Many moons ago, when I was a scared young thing at university, I managed to set my right leg on fire using a can of deoderant and an ill-placed candle. As a result, I lost most of the skin below my knee. It hurt like the dickens.
After about a week of going to the hospital every other day (a 2 hour journey, because the general in a university town wasn't equipped), the nurses gave me a load of bandages, gauze, and silver cream in preparation for the time when it would be healed enough for me to change my own dressing. Top banana, thought I, and well done them for being so forward thinking.
2 days later, I arrived for my appointment to discover the doors were locked. They weren't open at weekends, according to a nearby custodian, and the same was true of the Bank Holiday coming up. They had booked me in for a day they were shut. Shit.
So I went home, and tried to brave the increasing stench of my own putrefying flesh. 12 hours later, against all medical advice, I'm drinking vodka, alone, in my room, and the smell is absolutely overpowering. One or 2 of my closest friends have already informed me that people are avoiding me until the smell goes away.
"Fuck this" think I, "No piffling booboo is going to keep me from seeing my (admittedly cunty) flatmates!"
And so, using the same candle I'd set myself on fire with, I sterilised a knife and a pair of pliers, laid out all my tools on the least disgusting part of my desk, cranked up the Slayer, and went about re-enacting the procedure I'd seen performed on me maybe 4 times before.
3 things about this shocked me. Firstly, the amount of disgusting crap that oozes out of a burn wound. The inside of my bandage looked like Satan's hankey.
Secondly, just how much pain you can handle with the right frame of mind. I had to cut all the dead skin away (down to where it met the live, plus a few millimetres), scrape the litres of pus off, pick hairs out of the crusty wounds, and eventually sterilise the whole area, before wrapping everything up. By the end I was singing.
Thirdly, just how bad an idea it is to use vodka as a sterilising agent. It works, sure, but when it seeps in and the pain hits you like a half brick in a sock, causing you to fall backwards off your chair, you don't half feel stupid.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 10:13, 9 replies)
Did you have a smelly leg?
Why would you be spraying deodorant on it?
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 10:44, closed)
Why would you be spraying deodorant on it?
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 10:44, closed)
Yeah...whatever
I want to know exactly how the leg, deoderant, candle interface happend.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 11:13, closed)
I want to know exactly how the leg, deoderant, candle interface happend.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 11:13, closed)
As you may have guessed, alcohol was a factor
A vicious kung fu fight between myself and a female flatmate culminated in her spraying deoderant at me as we grappled most sexily. I managed to pin her in such a position that most of the can was discharged onto my bare legs. Not 2 minutes later, her pissed up neighbour barged in to see what all the noise was, and knocked the bookcase on which we'd (for reasons never made clear) positioned a lit candle. Fuck knows it wasn't mood lighting.
Mid-getting-her-off-me-before-anyone-gets-the-wrong-idea-flail, my leg passes within a gnat's chuff of the falling candle, and WHOOSH.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 11:24, closed)
A vicious kung fu fight between myself and a female flatmate culminated in her spraying deoderant at me as we grappled most sexily. I managed to pin her in such a position that most of the can was discharged onto my bare legs. Not 2 minutes later, her pissed up neighbour barged in to see what all the noise was, and knocked the bookcase on which we'd (for reasons never made clear) positioned a lit candle. Fuck knows it wasn't mood lighting.
Mid-getting-her-off-me-before-anyone-gets-the-wrong-idea-flail, my leg passes within a gnat's chuff of the falling candle, and WHOOSH.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 11:24, closed)
Was it a magic candle?
One that stays lit whilst falling through the air.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 11:45, closed)
One that stays lit whilst falling through the air.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 11:45, closed)
*shrug*
What do I look like, a physics professor? It's all a bit of a blur, so maybe it had only just toppled. As you may have guessed from the fact that I allowed my leg to be set on fire, I wasn't exactly paying much attention to that part of my body at the time.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 12:02, closed)
What do I look like, a physics professor? It's all a bit of a blur, so maybe it had only just toppled. As you may have guessed from the fact that I allowed my leg to be set on fire, I wasn't exactly paying much attention to that part of my body at the time.
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 12:02, closed)
^^^^
what he said.
mutter mutter capitalisation mutter mutter mutter
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 15:04, closed)
what he said.
mutter mutter capitalisation mutter mutter mutter
( , Thu 27 Jan 2011, 15:04, closed)
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