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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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.
( , Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:17, Reply)
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.
( , Tue 3 Aug 2010, 21:17, Reply)
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