Cooking naked
Took some foil off a roll, sliced nipple.

'Nuff said.
(Mrs Trellis GIN, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 11:31, 14 replies)

Stubbed toe on Sunday
Why is it that a Stubbed toe really bastard hurts?

I wanted to see if it was warm/humid/whatever on Sunday so I stepped out of the back door - something I've done a thousand times before - and managed to crack my little toe and the one next to it on my right foot - and then managed to drag it over the frame too.

No idea how I managed that feat of idiocy - no idea how I didn't swear (in front of my daughter) either....




Hi by the way - I seem to be able to get through the work firewall to b3ta now! :)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 11:00, Reply)

Tyred Out
I was having new tyres put on my car, when there was an enormous bang - the tyre had exploded while being inflated. The unfortunate mechanic was writhing in agony, hand clutched to his ear - the concussion had ruptured his eardrum. As they led him off towards the local A&E, one of his colleagues uttered the immortal line, "That's the second time that's happened to him in a fortnight..."
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 10:58, 1 reply)

Not the most, but funny...
Last night I was putting my daughter to bed - a task that has, of late, become more pleasant now the month long tantrum has finished. She is, however, in a "no" phase.

I asked for a kiss goodnight and got the expected "no" as she buries her head, face sideways in the pillow - fine, thinks I - So I lean over to kiss her cheek - at which point she decides that she does want a kiss after all and raises her head up sharply.

She didn't realise where I was (or maybe she did....) and cracked the back of her head on to my tooth/lip - there was a moment of restraint where, somehow, I didn't swear horrendously and a bit of blood on my part, painful teeth, etc (I have a bridge too and I'm wondering if it's been dislodged), some eye watering too.

And she's fine, she's barely noticed... She asks me if I want her to kiss it better and that "Daddy should go downstairs to fix his lip"...

Thanks chicken...
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 10:58, 2 replies)

Cloud Nine
Now - I've done my fair share of MASSIVE DRUGS because I'm so Honda Accord etc, and decided to stop doing them as - well - I was becoming a grown-up, BUT

One evening some friends were going to Cloud Nine under Vauxhall Bridge - the older children will remember that it used to be a trance venue - and I decided to stay straight.

During the course of the evening, having a cup of tea, I was chatting to an Australian gentleman, who was enthusing about absolutely everything in a way that will be common to all who go to such shindigs - he was off his noggin on a good disco biscuit and was gurning away like a spazmo catching G.

During a near-soliloquy on the skills of the DJ, I heard a rather loud CRRRACK! and he stopped talking, and started rooting about in his mouth with his tongue.

Finding what he was looking for, he gave me a broad grin, and I stared in horror at the front tooth he had split clean in twain.

He spat the other half into his hand, looked at it, threw it away, and carried on enthusing about the DJ.

"Oh dear Christ", I thought, "You cannot feel a thing, and you are going to wake up tomorrow in a world of pain".

Don't do drugs, kids - if only out of consideration for your audience.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 10:33, 4 replies)

And it was an accident!!
My late fiance and I were once larking around a bit on the stairs outside our flat coming home after a night out.. (like you do in the first flush of a relationship.. not communal stairs you understand, I don't do it in alleyways..) and I stood up to put the key in the lock, he was a couple of stairs lower and aimed a playful bite at what can only be described as the gusset area of my panties.

He actually connected which he wasn't expecting bit harder than he thought, right on the old Beetle bonnet.
YYYOOOOWWWW!!!!!
Instinctively kicked out and nearly knocked him down the stairs
Hurt like fuck it did.
( Sallyrsm, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 10:13, 3 replies)

The worst was not
amongst others, breaking my arm after my skateboard flew out from under my feet, splatting me on the kitchen floor when I was 7. It was not the 6 pure evil injections in my gums when I was 10. It was not being beaten like a punch bag by a particularly mentalist ex. It was not being punched in the eye by a chav (although, being drunk may have helped that). Nor was it even stepping on an upturned plug.

No.

The worst pain I’ve ever experienced is the time I shut the front door on my hand. Exciting, I know. The Mr-at-the-time and I were having a bit of a barny, so I decided to go to the shop to get some tobacco and cool down a bit. So off I flounced out the flat, and viciously pulled the front door shut behind me. I reached behind me to grab the catch so I could shut the door without slamming it, as I did every day, but this time something was wrong. I couldn’t find the catch! I always found the catch. Pitch black, blind drunk, almost comatose, it didn’t matter: I knew that catch like the back of my hand. It felt like time had stopped still as I realised that the door was still closing at an alarming rate and my hand hadn’t made contact with anything. What was my hand doing? Where was it? I'll tell you where it was. It was in the perfect place for the tongue of the lock to stab in to the back of my hand and the door slammed so hard I though my hand had been cut in two. Melodramatic, I know, but I’m only a skinny little thing, I could play a ditty on the bones sticking out my hand if I wanted to. The pain was immediate, the world went grey and I couldn’t breath. The Mr-at-the-time eventually came out to see what was going on, and bless him, he scooped me up off the floor, took me inside and got me some ice and then went to get the tobacco. There were no broken bones, just a very swollen rainbow tinted ham hand for about a month, and the ability to mini sick every time I think about it.
(Beacon, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 10:04, Reply)

Piercings
Now, I can't be arsed to trawl through all the replies to see if anyone else has mentioned them.

Over the ears I have had 3 out of the four piecings done that I have wanted since I was about 15. The nipple was the first, but I wussed out and got the spray anaesthetic. The piercing only hurt on a few occasions; when brushed soon after it had been done, when my hair got in it when moshing and when my friend punched it out. I have since had it redone, no anaesthetic and no real pain. The tongue was painless, as it should be if done well.

The PA, now that was something different. I took them up on the offer of anaesthetic, which they administer my spraying it on your bell end, pushing a cotton bud down the japs eye and dripping it along the plastic so inside your little chap is well and truly frozen. This was all uncomfortable but nothing more. The needle goes in and the nice piercer advised me to look through the hollow needle as it was stuck in me, saying "That's the only time you'll see your feet through your cock".

Now, with a ring through my penis and relatively little pain, I'm feeling quite happy and decide to reward myself with a quick pint (or two). Soon I need a trip to the little boys room and so off I toddle. Standing at the urinal between two men I get my newly adorned willy out and proceed to piss out my last few pints.

Oww!. No, really! Oww oww oww!

What feels like molten lead is coming out of my old man! In a 90 degree spray of blood! My knees buckle and I'm gripping onto the top of the urinal to stay upright.

The two kind gentleman in the bogs with me turn pale, finish up and leave me to it without a word.

For some time after that I was left having to sit down when I pissed, easing it out as each dribble felt as if I was pissing sandpaper galstones through a syphillis infected member.

Now, I don't know why I was never told this would happen, especially as I was given strict dates for any sexual activities I wanted to perform (one week before a wank, two until I could have oral sex, 3 for vaginal and 4 for anal). I didn't keep to those instructions, but at least with them there was pleasure as well as pain.

Appologies for length, it was cold and I was chocked full of adrenaline waiting for the needle to go through my sensitive areas.

Edit: typo kept for the hell of it
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 9:56, 4 replies)

So cyclists think the rules of the road don't apply to them because car drivers are bastards.
As such, cyclists jump red lights because it's, er ... safer for them and screw everyone else.

So imagine my joy this morning to see, at the end of the road I was walking down in central Mordor, a cyclist being berated by a very large man shouting at them and prodding them in the chest. They'd obviously jumped the lights in front of the wrong man, and he was proper tearing them off a stripe.

The berator stormed off, and the cyclist was left shaking, made it over to some steps and sat down with their head in their hands and, clearly very shaken up by the whole affair, started crying uncontrollably.

I felt my heart warm with righteousness - for once justice had been done - they wouldn't be doing that again! I was inspired, elated - I too will join these ranks of people who actually do something about these bloody cyclists, instead of maybe shouting at them from the pavement as they whizz past me at lights! I too would make cyclists weep - the scourge of the law-breakers! The protector of children and little old ladies scared by the baddies! Hoorah for me!

Imagine my surprise, then, as I got closer, to find the cyclist was a petite young girl in her 20s.

My egomania is now in tatters.

"Ouch"?! It's all I had left of my self-esteem.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 9:08, 83 replies)

As a student mental health nurse
I see a great deal of ouches, I even get some myself.

Just yesterday I was working working a night shift on an acute ward. (Acute = Very poorly sick people)

One of our patients, who we shall call A, decided she is not going to go to bed until she gets a 'little blue pill'. This little blue pill happens to be Lorazepam, we use this to stop people beating the living daylights out of us or each other and as she is pretty calm we say no.

Fast foreward 3 hours. This 5'4" 70lb woman is being restrained by 3 members of staff, one of which is my mentor, B. Now B is in a pretty awkward position behind A, A promptley decides to kick like a donkey who has eaten one too many carrots. B goes flying into a wall. 'Fucksocks' says I, best go get security since the police have decided not to turn up. After another hour A has been dosed with her 'little blue pill' afterall. Cue B's dinner repeating on her and a trip to A&E.

Outcome, broken schaphoid bone and a beautiful purple bruise on her back.

Also on my previous placement I was told a story that put me off Forensic Nursing (people doing their prison time in psychiatric services) for life.

Apparently one of the patients had boiled a kettle full of water and proceeded to pour it down a nurses back. Mega ouch!!




It's my first time, be gentle!
(NancyDrew Expert lurker until, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 7:25, 9 replies)

You'd think painkillers would relieve pain...
But ah no! Not always so.
I had the flu pretty bad for a few days last year. In bed, pretty weak and feeling like shit. Panadol was having no effect on the banging headaches so lets try Panadeine. Great for hangovers. Fuck me. I wake up a few hours later with a bit of a sore tummy. Ah - ill go to the loo. Maybe I need a dump. Not so. The cramps get worse until I am rolling around in agony trying not to wake the household. They lasted for about 20 mins by which stage I was mess. Did not make the connection until after the third occurrence when I thought to google codeine and cramps.
/lurk.
(wino.NZ The Ayatollah of rock n' rolla..., Wed 4 Aug 2010, 7:02, Reply)

another story just reminded me
I had a dentist visit about 3 weeks ago and was given a filling. It was my first ever, so the effects of the anesthetic were unknown to me. Heading home my mouth was droopy. I had no feeling in my lips at all and to wobble them like dead slugs seemed amusing to me, as were attempts at drinking liquid, which would just run down my chin, and eating as i literally couldn't tell if the food was in my mouth. I was assured it would wear off in a few hours. And it did. and i was in agony. desperately checking in the mirror what on earth had happened I see a massive piece of bloody flesh hanging off the inside of my lip. While attempting to eat an apple on anesthetic, I was eating my bottom lip.

EDIT: Im not sure that this story is receiving the attention it deserves. It was massive bloody chunk of lip!
(augsav forgot about B3ta, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 5:32, 2 replies)

Rugby
A game for Gentlemen, played by psychopaths. Unless you play for Bonymaen, (Swansea) where it is a game for psychopaths, played by violent psychopaths..

So I was playing at Hooker against 'Bony', it was fucking cold, miserable, and thier firsts had thier game called off, so the team that run out against my little village side were full of Welsh Div 1 players. Ahhh fuck thinks I...and I was proven right

For the first 30 minutes we were used as tackle bags, and kicking practice. We were too exhaused to fight back, as these guys were fit, and could therefore run away before any of us could get the wind to swing a punch.

Carnage and pain

Not as much as our poor scrum half though. He, being enthusiastic, took the ball and ran at the nearest Neanderthal. He bounced off and landed, sitting on the ground facing the opposition. A ruck formed over him, and he made a fundimantal error.

He Held Onto The Ball

Instantly, 6 steriod fuelled morons start tapdancing on him like he is the stage at the Apollo, and they are Mr Bojangles.


There was a blood curdling scream and everyone stepped back to see our little scrum half, naked from the waist down, with blood eminating from his groin like a fountain

"fucking hell! they've ripped Jasons cock off!! someone said, and then we all pissed ourselved laughing. Turns our his foreskin had beed partially torn off, and he had to be circumsized.

Which is really, really funny.

My game ended 20 mins later with 3 broken ribs after a scrum collapse. I have never been happier to be injured in my life, the pain was worth getting off that pitch.
(micmac is happy as a pig in shite, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 5:21, 2 replies)

We were all drinking heavily one night ...
As these stories so often seem to begin, until George wanders off to the toilet.
And never returned.
A few minutes later another of the group when off to the toilet.
And came screaming back out. Literally.
George, it seems, had decided to take a tactical chunder while in the loo and had leaned over to vomit in the bowl, lost his balance and smashed his mouth straight onto the edge, snapping off four of his top teeth and pushing two of the bottom ones straight through his lip.
So wracked with pain was he that he was still not able to make any noise aside from a sad whimper when the ambulance arrived about ten minutes later.
( difficultchild, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 5:18, 1 reply)

I wish I'd looked after me teeth.
I had a toothache. Hell, don’t we all sometimes. Went to the dentist and one of my lower Molars had to come out. There and then.

So, extraction it was. 7 injections it took. After the 7th she told me to sit in the waiting room to allow it, them, to take enough effect, I started to panic that my throat would close up due to and overdose of anaesthetic. Swallowing became an audible sound to all around me as panic started to set in.
However, the extraction went ok. Didn’t feel anything. Tooth out. Cool. Got the info on how to look after it and on a Wednesday afternoon, went home to rest.

It hurt a bit the next 2 days, but felt worse on Friday. But then of course it did! I just had a tooth wrenched out of my jaw with a big pair of forceps. I slept fitfully Friday night and woke up in horrible pain. Figured I would spend the day chilling, watch Saturday Kitchen, other assorted rubbish and eat paracetamol and ibuprofen every 2 hours. Shit, it hurt, really bad. Figured I should stop being a pussy and get on with it. It would feel better soon. Right?
By Sunday afternoon I’m crying like a baby, crawling round on the floor. Eating tablets by the handful and calling NHS direct. I get the advice that it’s normal after an extraction to feel pain and feel like a ridiculous big girls blouse for calling in the first place.
Sunday night. I’m sweating, incoherent, crying, talking to myself in a pathetic ‘What’s happening, I think I’m dying, I’m so scared’ kind of way, and have swallowed enough medication to surely be considered a suicide risk.

Monday morning get on the phone to the dentist. There is NO FUCKING WAY that woman is not giving me an appointment right there and then. Then after sobbing, pleading, begging, crying, threatening her with my imminent death. Threatening HER with death. I somehow find myself at the surgery.

Lovely dentist turns to me as I open the door ’How are you doing then. Oh. Are you…?
‘Help me, please, help me’ and collapse onto the end of her chair.
Not my proudest moment ever, but I am so pale, she can almost see through me. And I’m drenched in sweat.
She helped me into the seat and had a look.

I had ‘dry socket’. It happens in about 5% of extractions, particularly in the bottom jaw. The clot of blood that forms in the extraction hole, between the bone and the gum that helps the connective tissue to heal can become dislodged, or not form at all, leaving no protection, and exposing the bone and nerve endings leading to inflammation.
Or, to a hoard of angry mouth Numbskulls with red-hot pokers and ice axes. All intent on burning and digging their way through your bone and into the side of your face.

The only help they could give was a good clean out, and to stuff the offending hole full of gauze covered in oil of cloves and zinc oxide. Which lovely dentist lady did to the sounds of me moaning.
As awful as it sounds, the relief was almost immediate.

It still throbbed awfully, but I cried. I sat, in front of my dentist, and cried. When she had finished I stood up, and fell over.


Still. Turned out nice in the end.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 3:12, Reply)

Not me but...
a colleague treated a chap who had a papercut..






To his eyeball.
(Pugwash, Wed 4 Aug 2010, 2:06, 7 replies)

Rrrrrrrhoids
It seems that hemorrhoids haven't been mentioned here and I intend to rectify(?) that.

After visiting the bum doctor, who had absolutely no sense of humour and upon being rolled into the fetal postion with his finger up the date I tried to take the edge of the humility by telling him I was being 'alien probed', but no laughs there, just a little deeper digging in the pit. Anyway, they are painful and I could only deposit the dung by actually squatting on the toilet with my feet balancing precariously on the seat, knees clasped by my sweaty palms and hoping that package would shoot out like a brown torpedo.

The pain only came from losing my balance after flushing and falling headfirst into the hand basin, whilst my ankle twisted after sliding down the side of the china. Lumps on my forehead and lumps on the clacker are a lovely matching pair.
(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 23:55, 9 replies)

Painful pearoast: Bitten on the bust - nearly lost a nipple!
30-odd years ago, I was working at what was known elegantly as a 'Hospital For The Mentally Subnormal'.

Being quite new, I still felt sorry for the residents, or 'patients' as they were known. They had shit lives.

Anyway, one day a young lad of about 11 was standing in a corner, sobbing pitifully.

He had his sweater sleeves pulled down over his hands, and his arms had then been crossed over his chest and tied behind his back with the sweater cuffs.

'How awful', I thought, and walked up to him, murmured a word or two of comfort, and placed an arm around his shoulder.

He immediately turned towards me and bit me, hard and viciously, on the nearest bit he could reach, which was my left breast.

The pain was dreadful. I stepped away pretty smartish and, hoping the incident hadn't been seen, (showing pity for the patients was frowned upon) nipped off to the loo to inspect the damage.

A lump of skin had come clean off, just under my left nipple. There was a lot of blood. I mopped things up and stopped the bleeding as well as I could and went back to work, wincing.

I never told anyone I worked with, as I'd have had the piss ripped forever. Besides, as patients were seen basically as animals I'd have been told I deserved it for showing misguided kindness.

The only good thing was that I was wearing new shoes with slightly thicker soles than usual. In my old shoes, the nipple would've been a shade lower and might've been bitten off.

I still have a faint scar and no, I'm not posting pictures.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 23:14, Reply)

Pearoast from the food sex qotw
Wafer thin
Many moons ago, long before the lovely Mrs Spimf happened along I had another young lady on the go, and blimey did she go. Up to all sorts (no this isn’t about liquorice) I’ve never really understood the food sex thing, the aerosol cream can and the mimsy were never destined to be happy bedfellows and I find it disconcerting to have a saveloy in the room during coitus. Similarly the alfresco thing escapes me: if I want a Cornetto I can do so without the slightest of hint lasciviousness and if I fancy some sexual intercourse then I find soft furnishings compliment the act quite satisfactorily.

Nevertheless young and keen to experiment I agreed to kill two birds with one cone. A picnic rug and (sensibly) a cool box were sourced along with some of Wall’s best selling chilled confectionary (Chocolate & Hazelnut naturally). We found a spot in the moonlight in some (slightly creepy) local woodland.

Despite my apprehensions my young hormones were unperturbed at the prospect of calorific copulation. I won’t dwell on the frippery, I’m not an erotic writer, I'll leave that to Mr Spankey et al. To be honest I was somewhat unsure what to do, clearly I was aware some degree of smearing and quite possibly insertion was required. My first attempt at ice cream carnal capers was to insert the Cornetto into my eager young partner’s rather splendid mimsy – pointy end first mind, she wasn’t a slag. This quickly left me bereft of ideas and things were melting fast. Ah! cunnilingus I thought – hurrah! In our comfy mossy spot under the creepy tree I crouched down and set to work, lapping alternately at clitoris and cream based confectionary with vigor – buoyed by my newly found decadence I decided to see if I could push some of the chopped nuts up her slippery balloon knot with my tongue, shifting down I set to work. This quickly proved ill advised, my adventurous young filly was suddenly possessed by a fit off giggles which served to force the Cornetto back out and on to my forehead and push melted ice cream into my eyes. As I recoiled the Cornetto remained stuck to my temple at a somewhat rakish angle – more giggles. I’ve never looked good wearing a hat. Humiliation was setting in quickly.

Happily my filthy little friend realised this and reached into the cool box and grabbed another Cornetto whilst deftly plucking the spent one from my forehead, tossing it in the air with impressive abandon. My fumblings were quickly forgotten as she tugged at my trousers. I can safely say the first time an ice cream cone is applied to the end of ones throbbing member is a moment never forgotten. With a wicked glint in her eye she knelt down, pushed the ice cream further down my hot shaft then suddenly lunged and bit down hard on the end of the cone! As soon as my pulse returned to mere humming bird levels I began to enjoy this impromptu porno picnic.

All too soon nearly all the ice cream had been eagerly sucked and devoured and my own churns were stirring, as my little minx delivered one last suck something terrible happened – as I flung my head back in ecstasy – the discarded cunnilingus cone felt out of the branches above where it had been lobbed with lusty abandon – smack in my bloody eye. This caused me to thrust forward, pushing the bell-end Cornetto halfway down the poor girls throat, I’ll never forget the horrible choking noise echoing through the woodland; like a lone goose honking at sunset, in fact I realised the whole situation was fast becoming my own willy honker and the chocolate hat tree.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 23:10, 5 replies)

non sexual arse trauma
back in my younger days (around 11/12) i can recall a day when i stood in my kitchen trying to hold back tears (like the tough man I was), holding my bleeding arse with my bleeding hand which was on the end of my bleeding arm, while my caring & loving (read NOT) parents sat pissing themselves laughing at my plight... finally they managed to ask what happened... and this is the story

my dad had decided to start building a garage in our driveway. Now this was about the stage in my life where i started getting into blokey things like Diy, electrics, plumbing, cars etc so i was being helpful where i could. with the sides and back of the garage erected (heh) the time came to start placing rafters across. a trip to a wood yard was in order but dad being the cheap skate he was asked our neighbour if he had any decent wood laying about which could be used, as it happened he did.. except it was full of old nails the big rough cut wedged shaped thick hard nails, in a rush to get the garage somewhat sturdy for the night we put the rafters on nails and all.

Next day i decided to get up on the roof and start removing nails i sat balanced on a rafter, legs clamped round it and started pulling nails... i thought at my young age that i had a good sense of balance... i was wrong... one tough nail and i suddenly went sideways past the point of no return.. i made a grab for the next rafter over, my forearm got there first and found a rusty nail (cut to the arm) then as that failed to save me my hand hit another nail (cut to the hand) finally as my rear end started to rotate around the rough sawn wood the end of a particularly sharp nail lined up perfectly with the top of my arse crack and as i fell it was dragged hard and fast through my jeans and down the inside of my left arse cheek 'pinging' on one side of my ring piece and then 'pinging' again on the opposite side.. i found myself hanging upside down from the rafter when the pain hit and i let go landing badly on my shoulder

the damage ? a scratch no deeper then one left by a pissed off cat down the inside of my crack, some splinters to my bum cheek and some bruising..

i completed the job a few days later from the safety of a step ladder
(maxumus HEY!.... diddly dee, de de de de de de, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 22:44, Reply)

Knee pain and thumbtacks
As a projectionist you kneel alot (honk honk) and usually on one knee depending on which way the projector faces in my case my right knee. This is great apart from when you are a bit over weight and you crush the cartilage in your knee and it pops out of place. It started as a nagging ache and over a couple of hours finished as possibly the worst pain I've have experienced. You can have you leg straight you can bend you leg but christ help you in doing it. Some lovely painkillers and two week's off work and the pain went away to come back in cold weather. Also accidentally pushed a thumb tack in the joint of my thumb I heard it squeak as it touched the bone pulled it out vomited and fainted.
(Mr_Good_bar, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 22:40, Reply)

This hurt
Pilonidal Sinus

Felt like a small swelling, put it down to rough roads banging away at my coccyx, I took a few ibuprofen and hoped it would stop.

Excruciating pain when it reached its peak after a few days- I was on all fours, squealing like a stabbed cat. Showed the missus, asked her to stick a pin in it, she said it looked like a gigantic blister the size of a plum, with weird stuff inside rising and falling, like it was 'boiling' inside. She wouldn't stick a pin in it. She certainly wasn't going to stick a pin in it and video it for me.

Went to A&E in the end, told to come back the following day for an 'emergency' operation- some emergency! Burst whilst waiting on the ward for the operation. Smelled really bad....

3 weeks off work, 800mg ibuprofen and 30mg cocodomol 3-4 times a day. Made me fall asleep in minutes - best painkillers ever those cocodomol, 5mg or 8mg is the best you can buy over the counter, so a hit of 4-6 times the usual dose was quite literally a knockout amount.

Had to have the wound cleansed and dressed daily for 3 weeks. Not all nurses are gentle when cleansing out a wound about 2" deep. Felt really strange, like the swab was deep inside my back, nauseous the first few times till I got used to it.

All 'cos I'm a bit hairy and I work in an office where the ladies feel cold if it's less than 28C.

If it happens again, they'll excavate about 4" x 4" of flesh down to the bone (ie near the spine) and it will be 6-12 months at home lay on my front, with nurse visiting twice a day to clean and dress it. Not a nice prospect, apart from the nurses...

Men: wax your arse crack!

(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 22:28, 3 replies)

Not me, but my mate's dad
In his youth had a motorbike. I dunno what it was, but it would've been the mid to late 60s. He was tearing along on it and was approaching a humpback bridge. He managed to gain air, not much, but he left the road. But, upon landing, his bike went from under him. He slid along the road, his femur snapping clean through and part of it burst out of the front of his thigh just above his knee and he eventually ground to a halt with a small amount of tarmac stuck onto the severed end of the bone. It had actually scraped along the road surface, gathering some up in the process.

He spent a good many weeks in traction and even now still walks with a limp as one of his legs is slightly shorter than the other.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:52, 1 reply)

rollerboots and shagpile don't mix.
was sent by mum to buy a pint of milk, back in the days when milk still came in bottles. skated happily to the shop, bought the milk and went home. skating into the living room to give mum the milk and her change, the shagpile carpet wrapped itself around my rollerboot wheels, causing a kind of comedy leg-in-the-air, half-backflip kind of thing. i dropped the milk and put out a hand to stop myself as i fell. unfortunately, my arm twisted and i landed on it, snapping it neatly. very painful but, because i could move my fingers, mum thought i'd just sprained it. fortunately, she decided it was better to take me to hospital anyway, just to be sure. one x-ray and plaster cast later and i was on my way home, in pain, but already on the mend.
the milk never spilled, either.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:52, 2 replies)

When you're a teenager at school
they teach you allsorts in the special biology lessons. Reproduction, childbirth and especially how your body changes when the hormones kick in. However, there is just one thing they omit. A most important thing that happens to boys. Why no one mentions it, I'll never know. The vast majority of boys never know about it until it happens. You see, for a few weeks at the start of puberty, something behind a boys' nipples goes hard. It feels like a couple of large Smarties have been implanted there. And they're tender.

I heard kids on more than one occasion mention the lumps and that they're going to see the doctor.

Mine were just as tender. I only knew it was harmless because they were mentioned in The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole. No one had warned me about it, not even any of my five elder brothers.

Now, on my bedroom wall above my bed was a couple of shelves. I wanted to get a book down off there one night to read in bed so I stood up on my bed, reached up and caught my naked right nipple on the corner of the shelf. I made a stifled yodelling sound and collapsed onto my bed clutching my nipple.

So, I implore you. Those of you with sons or kid brothers in that pre-puberty age. Inform them, warn them and prepare them for those two weeks of nipply tenderness and to protect them from bookshelves.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:42, 3 replies)

The tib-fib club
A couple of weeks ago I was playing in a co-ed football match, lined up as a right mid-fielder for some odd reason (me being a lefty, I tend to gravitate to the left side of the field). About 10 minutes into the game, someone on my team put the ball through the defense. The ball was too close to the keeper so I lazily gave chase so he wouldn't mess around and waste time, but I knew there was no way I was going to get to it before him.

Apparently, the goalkeeper saw things a little differently and after grabbing the ball in his hands, slide-tackled me for no reason (he already had the ball), driving his spikes into my leg, just below my shinguard. As I flipped over him, I looked up at my leg and saw an extra joint about halfway between my knee and ankle, as that part of my leg bent sideways. I landed on my back and instantly grabbed my leg to hold the pieces together. One of the players on the other team made some comment like "you shouldn't have tried to slide tackle our keeper" to which I calmly responded, "you broke my f#@$ing leg, you a$&hole."

I sat there holding my leg together in the middle of the field and waited for emergency services. A couple of my teammates came over to see how I was doing and got sick on the field after seeing my leg. A bumpy ambulance ride and several hours later I am the proud recipient of a titanium rod that was drilled down through my tibia.

To be fair, it wasn't exactly my ouchiest moment because it wasn't really all that painful, but every time I moved I could feel the bones grind against each other and I could see my shin bone trying to poke through the front of my leg.

X-ray taken before they set the bones and gave me a metal leg:


( kingoffools, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:36, 1 reply)

At least I set an example for my sisters...
Growing up, I had my fair share of accidents, mainly as a result of being stupid and having far too much energy. Here are a share of some of them (all required a trip to A & E)...

Aged 4 - Ignored parents advice to wear shoes when running around in house with bare wooden floor (they were in the middle of redecorating). Six inch splinter in foot.

Aged 5 - fell off a roundabout and snapped my humerus like a twig. People looking after me thought I was over-reacting, so I didn't receive even cursory medical attention for 6 hours, whereupon my parents took one look at me and took me to hospital. Turns out I had a cyst in the middle of my humerus, rendering it more stick-like, indirectly leading to...

Aged 6 - decided to continue burgeoning gymnastics career, cruelly cut short for medical reasons (see above) by hoisting myself up in between the units in my galley kitchen and swinging. When my hands (inevitably) slipped, I was unable to manouvere them to protect my face. Nose went splat on the kitchen floor, and bled for four hours.

Aged 7 - On a climbing frame, I slipped on some mud and ended up hanging on for dear life with my dicky arm, which again, snapped like a twig.

Aged 8 - Persuaded by older child to sit on a skateboard backwards and ride down a hill. Concussion.

Aged 9 - Again, ignoring parental advice, decided to take our whippet for a walk whilst wearing roller-blades. Got a busted coccyx for my trouble when she decided to bolt.

Aged 10 - Whilst playing tig at school, I ran straight into a big glass window. Which smashed.


Aged 11, I decided to try a more sedentary lifestyle, which seems to have worked, because the only trips to hospital in the past ten years have been due to my own body rebelling against me (dodgy ears, dodgy eyes, appendicitis, etc.). However, the cyst in my humerus has gone, as has my crippling fear of playground equipment - and after hearing my tales of woe, neither of my sisters have been involved in any accidents.
(BelladonnaAnodyne Melissa's gonna wet herself, I swear..., Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:28, Reply)

Bum surgery........well
A few years ago, I had the misfortune to have some kind of bottomectomy surgery which only involved being in as a day patient. So Mr Twaddle and kind driver friend come to collect the very, VERY stoned Pussy from Outpatients. Feeling pain? Not on your nelly, thanks to several very strong (and possibly bordering on illegal) painkillers.

Mr Twaddle continued to administer TLC, cups of tea, spurned my offers of oral sex, that sort of thing. Until bedtime. Unbeknown to me, the hospital had given him a bottle of very fast acting laxative to ensure that yours truly had a dump to ensure that everything was in working order. Open wide, my darling, says he. I obediently oblige.

Two hours later.......... FUUUUUUCCCCK!!!!

There is NO other pain like it, I swear. And I have given birth twice.....

I am wincing even now
(pussy twaddle performs indiscretions in branches of Millets..., Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:21, Reply)

When I was but 12
I used to share a room with my brother who was (and still is) 12 years my senior. He was going through stuff in the bottom of his wardrobe and I was sitting on my bed opposite, observing. He dragged out his old crash helmet which was too big for me, then he dug out a windscreen-wiper motor, hooked it to a battery and demonstrated how powerful the motor actually was.
He produced 2 or 3 egg trays. As he used to workout a lot, he used to consume more eggs than my mum was willing to fork out for, so he bought his own.
He then dug out a big knife. All purpose outdoor fishing/hunting knife, 4 inch blade in a sheath with a faux-bone handle.
So I grabbed three egg-trays and put them across my knees and invited him to stab through them. He took me up on the offer and did indeed stab through them with quite impressive force. Unfortunately for me, I neglected to keep my legs out of the way and the blade went into my leg and stopped when it hit the bone.
Fortunately, it had struck just at the top of the knee-joint just before where the femur attaches, consequently the knife only went in maybe 5mm. A fleshwound at most, but the force that it hit my knee was enough to make me wail like a banshee. The agony was exquisite and it bled. More than anything else had done in the past, but not a huge amount of blood at all. A nosebleedful at the most.

He stopped the bleeding and I put on some clean trousers and hobbled downstairs for a bit. Then I went back upstairs as I didn't want my dad to see that I was suffering because he'd want to know why and I didn't want to get into trouble. About 10pm, my mum came home from work and went downstairs to see her, but my knee wouldn't work properly. I couldn't put any weight on it at all and I got maybe 3 steps down before I stopped and had to sit down. Eventually someone asked why I was sitting on the stairs and I had to 'fess up and explain why my knee was now twice the size of the other, dark purple and refusing to work.

It needed only one stitch but took a good 3 weeks before my knee would function normally again.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:17, Reply)

I'd forgotten about this
until I read NoStrings below at around age 10 I'd stolen some fireworks including some flare like ones about pencil size; lit one, dropped it, and it landed in my sandal, getting stuck in the hole in the leather above my big toe, where it continued to flare away burning away the 'pink stuff', I couldn't tell my parents for fear of a telling off for messing with fireworks, so hid the injury and boyly put up with it until it healed; over 40 yrs later I still have a circular scar on my toe.
( lord bofingham, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 20:30, Reply)