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This is a question Embarrassing Injuries

Sometimes your mind isn't quite on the job in hand, the throes of passion get, well, passionate and something goes painfully wrong. Ok, so you wouldn't tell your mates how you got injured, but you can tell us... we won't laugh. Much.

(, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 10:25)
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Arse Rip
I was a first year university student at Derby university, England, when this happened. Me and three mates were enjoying a bright sunny afternoon in Darley Abbey park, totally sober and straight-headed, messin’ about by the river on rope swings, and sliding down a six-foot high, moss covered weir that the river was travelling down. This was great fun, and we were all really enjoying ourselves until one of my friends (the one submitting this story) suggested I slide down a portion of the weir that was steeper as this would make me go faster. I obliged.

When I reached the bottom, I stopped dead and stood up swearing. I’d hit what felt like a raised rock, and my left buttock was throbbing painfully. I slowly walked over to the riverbank where my friends lifted my shorts up to inspect the damage, as there was blood trickling down my leg by this point.

I was met with cries of “Hospital!” and “Don’t look!!” so I looked, of course, and all I could see was all this bubbly fat hanging out of my buttocks, like a pile of mini pink frogspawn…

Anyway, we got to the car and rushed to the hospital, me lying on the back seat and one of my friends in the boot! When we got there the receptionist was very dismissive (I could still stand so there obviously wasn’t too much wrong with me) until the friend who’d made me slide down the steep bit in the first place grabbed a passing doctor and forced him to look at my injury. I was immediately offered a stretcher and wheeled into a nearby cubicle.

While we were waiting for me to be seen to, my friends decided to amuse themselves by flicking globules of fat across my legs, and I think this worked in my favour as a doctor came in and asked us to keep it down as someone in the next cubicle had gone into cardiac arrest, and we were seen shortly after that!

When the doctor came in to see me, he tested my leg for feeling, and pulled open the wound that stretched right across my left buttock in a broad V shape.
“See that dark bit there?” he said to my friends, “that’s the muscle. You’re very lucky that it wasn’t damaged at all”

Unfortunately, as I was lying on my front, I couldn’t see anything. Every doctor and nurse on shift at the time, however, did. They all came in to have a look and I felt like a prize exhibit. One even took a Polaroid picture – which he wouldn’t let me look at – saying it was to show his medical students. Yeah right - if it hasn’t appeared on rotten.com or ogrish, I’ll eat my fat!

I was given two options; local anaesthetic, out in two hours, or general anaesthetic and in over night. Being a double-hard bastard, I opted for the local, and the doctor and his Irish student work-placement nurse got to work. I could feel the stitches being pulled through my arse fat despite the anaesthetic as he double-stitched me back together.

In two and a half hours I was sitting in a beer garden, staining my seat with blood, enjoying a beer or few with a new story to tell.

On a later date, we re-visited the crash-site to see what it was that had ripped my left arse-cheek open. My friend ventured out to the spot and felt around, and sticking up about two centimetres out of the rock at the bottom of the wier, was a metal pipe, about a centimetre in diameter. It had pierced my left buttock right in the centre, ripping it open, spilling fat everywhere, and exposing the muscle.

I am still haunted by the fact that, in a parallel universe somewhere, I’d sat myself two inches to the left…
(, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 12:25, Reply)

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