Ouch!
A friend was once given a biopsy by a sleep-deprived junior doctor.
They needed a sample of his colon, so inserted the long bendy jaws-on-the-end thingy, located the suspect area and... he shot through the ceiling. Doctor had forgotten to administer any anaesthetic.
What was your ouchiest moment?
( , Thu 29 Jul 2010, 17:29)
A friend was once given a biopsy by a sleep-deprived junior doctor.
They needed a sample of his colon, so inserted the long bendy jaws-on-the-end thingy, located the suspect area and... he shot through the ceiling. Doctor had forgotten to administer any anaesthetic.
What was your ouchiest moment?
( , Thu 29 Jul 2010, 17:29)
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Weatherspoons gore
As fellow-sufferers will know, problems of the internal-plumbing-and-back-passage variety have a way of reducing inhibitions in every way imaginable, save erotically (where the area loses all possible appeal). Beyond the inappropriate restaurant conversations and revolting hypochondriac fact-swapping, you have achieved a point of acceptance where dropping your trousers, and proffering your rear to medical staff becomes as routine as a repeat prescription. 3 years on and multiple invasive procedures later, I suspect the NHS of playing some kind of cruel joke - I have had bits cut out, Botox injected (beautiful), rods rammed in, cameras filming, flashlights beamed, and, memorably, a water balloon inflated, all in the comfort of my rectum and lower intestine. And still no diagnosis.
After my first surgery, and being inexperienced, I was feeling so high on the drugs I went ahead to a previously booked weekend away with my other half to a seaside cottage. All was going well, I'd just eaten my first real meal in the local Weatherspoons and excused myself to go to the loo. No sooner had I started my meaningful business that I felt like I was having a chainsaw jammed up my backside and left there. The result, a horrifying splattering of fecal afterbirth in a pile of congealed blood and guts isn't what you go to your local Weatherspoon's for, to say the least. A&E and ye olde local NHS hospital curtly informed my weeping, bleeding, contorted and prostrate self that this is normal for this type of operation, and sent me home with a paracetamol. I spent the next week crying myself into a frenzy of pain and self-medicating over the counter.
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 10:02, 4 replies)
As fellow-sufferers will know, problems of the internal-plumbing-and-back-passage variety have a way of reducing inhibitions in every way imaginable, save erotically (where the area loses all possible appeal). Beyond the inappropriate restaurant conversations and revolting hypochondriac fact-swapping, you have achieved a point of acceptance where dropping your trousers, and proffering your rear to medical staff becomes as routine as a repeat prescription. 3 years on and multiple invasive procedures later, I suspect the NHS of playing some kind of cruel joke - I have had bits cut out, Botox injected (beautiful), rods rammed in, cameras filming, flashlights beamed, and, memorably, a water balloon inflated, all in the comfort of my rectum and lower intestine. And still no diagnosis.
After my first surgery, and being inexperienced, I was feeling so high on the drugs I went ahead to a previously booked weekend away with my other half to a seaside cottage. All was going well, I'd just eaten my first real meal in the local Weatherspoons and excused myself to go to the loo. No sooner had I started my meaningful business that I felt like I was having a chainsaw jammed up my backside and left there. The result, a horrifying splattering of fecal afterbirth in a pile of congealed blood and guts isn't what you go to your local Weatherspoon's for, to say the least. A&E and ye olde local NHS hospital curtly informed my weeping, bleeding, contorted and prostrate self that this is normal for this type of operation, and sent me home with a paracetamol. I spent the next week crying myself into a frenzy of pain and self-medicating over the counter.
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 10:02, 4 replies)
What a horrific experience
and so brave to post it for your first post. Welcome to the family!
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 10:31, closed)
and so brave to post it for your first post. Welcome to the family!
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 10:31, closed)
Agreed!
* Clicks * I hate the way the NHS are so stingy with their analgesics btw. A paracetemol ffs!
Did they ever discover exactly what was wrong with your lower intestines? Are they utterly cured now?
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 13:06, closed)
* Clicks * I hate the way the NHS are so stingy with their analgesics btw. A paracetemol ffs!
Did they ever discover exactly what was wrong with your lower intestines? Are they utterly cured now?
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 13:06, closed)
And no cure either!
Sadly. So the saga may yet fuel future QOTW!
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:25, closed)
Sadly. So the saga may yet fuel future QOTW!
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:25, closed)
as I said...
...I have no shame anymore. Thanks for the encouragement!
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:23, closed)
...I have no shame anymore. Thanks for the encouragement!
( , Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:23, closed)
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