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Irish born and bred, but in the uk now. And loving it. :)

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» Phobias

3 things. But this is the major one.
It's a long story, but I've a long history with Needles.
Needles wasn't always a fear of mine. But when I was about ten I was having a routine blood test, and my vein Popped. Pop! Not like a balloon, mind.
"oh, it's disappeared" Said the nurse. She then, instead of taking the needle out and trying again, jiggles the needle about INSIDE MY ARM, whilst in vain trying to get my vein. (Hey, see what I did there?) She didn't get it, and she scared the living daylights out of me, as well as causing extreme pain.
Ever since it's gotten worse. My veins have always been terrible anyway, but by the time I was 18, I needed to have my veins accessed most weeks. I was waiting for a liver transplant, and was on intravenous antibiotics a lot. As well as lots of blood tests. I would have to be held down, whilst I screamed, fought and kicked, whilst the veins were got at. I'm not and never was a strong person, yet it would take two people to hold me when needles were involved. My arms where full of bruises, when a vein was found it usually yielded no blood, and the docs were getting kind of desperate. So was I. They were eying up my ankles at this stage, looking for suitable veins, and I really couldn't take anymore.
I went to a hypnotist. It made a big difference. I still cried, moaned and felt frightened, but I could sit still, no restraint needed. A little while before the transplant, with my veins shot to shit, I get a little device planted in my chest which means the needle gets plugged straight into that. Dead handy. I tell people I have silicon in my breast, but it's not what they're hoping for.
So I go along to the hospital, the day I was called for my liver, ready for it. Knowing too, that I had this little port in my chest so no needles would come near me, made me feel more relaxed. But it was not to be. I had already been turned away from a liver for not being well enough, I was nervous and frightened. And along comes an anesthetist with a HUGE fuck off needle for me. I ask him politely where the hell does he think he's sticking that thing, and he gestures to my bony frail hand. The needle was thicker than my fingers! Well, not really, but had he not looked at how skinny I was?? Less than 6 stone at the time. That knitting needle would slice through me. He did go for a smaller needle, but I had to have it in my hand. No one knew how to use my port so they refused to touch it. It's ok, I figure, I'll be knocked out, and they'll put a few lines in my hands, I can deal. Except it wasn't that simple. I woke up, and after a day or two noticed something on my neck. I had a ginormous bunch of lines coming out of my neck. Sweet-holy-christ-there's-five-different-lines-going-into-one-place-holy-shit-what-get-them-out-of-there. AND they were stitched in! So, at the end of my stay, the line had to be cut out. By a scalpel wielding nurse! Right. By. My. Eyes. I still have the marks on my neck. Good god! It's inhumane!
Now though, I'm 22, and nearly 4 years (This year in Oct) post transplant. I've had about 2 people go for my veins. And both, despite my warnings that my veins were shite, managed to get nothing out of me. The port in my chest works perfectly, allowing me to receive through it, and give blood. (Which some won't do) Apart from a few weeks where it gave up giving blood, which to be fair was after 2 months in hospital, using it constantly, it's worked perfectly. I luvs it!
Now though, I'm faced with insulin injections. INTO MY STOMACH. Holy fuck....
(Fri 11th Apr 2008, 3:27, More)

» * PFFT *

*Funny title*
As a lady, I don't normally release wind. But I will concede to doing it once...
I was having an endoscope done. I always get these done under General Anastethic (sp?) cos I don't sedate very well at all. (Opposite effect, I go mental, but anyway) During the endoscope they pump your stomach full of air so they can look around. But as I was under GA, I didn't burp and release some of the air during and after the procedure. So, once I came round a bit and was awake enough to be mortified, I started feeling major rumblings in my gut. Big groans and squelches. I could feel it moving downwards.... I knew there was something brewing... And then - an intestine full of air comes launching out of my *ahem* back passage. Huge gust, after gust. For a good few hours. No smell, thankfully, but the amount of air! I couldn't control myself. Worse was that the nurses were doing half hourly obs, and would laugh long and hard at me.... Meanies.
And that is the only time I have had ever farted.*

*May be a lie.
(Sun 15th Jul 2007, 23:43, More)

» What's the most horrific thing you've seen?

I seem to have a babies theme
When I was at school I worked Saturdays with a local vet. He let me get really hands on with stuff, and I saw and did some really cool things. But you also see some horrible stuff.
On a farm visit to a cow calving, the calf had already died inside the cow. The way it was taken out, was by the vet putting steel rope into the cow, and wrapping it round the calf. The 2 ends of the rope would then hang out the cows vagina. Then the vet would use the rope to saw throught the calf. He would do this in order to behead the calf, and then cut each of the limbs off. To see a cow give birth to different bits of a calf was horrible. Cow survived though.
I also was there for a lambing. The Lamb was dead, and the mother was getting there. The vet was pulling hard on the lamb, and it was about halfway out. But as he pulled, the body of this tiny white lamb ripped apart, and his guts, liver, stomach and all came spilling out. The vet then had to try and clean out the sheeps womb. The sheep didn't survive.
The third thing is a cow after retaining the afterbirth. As soon as we walked into the shed the smell hit me. I have a strong stomach, so slightly gagged, but kept my cool. Cue this old irish farmer laughing at the young girl almost being sick. But anyway, there was a small bit of rotting placenta hanging out of the cow. But as soon as the vet started to clean out the rest the smell intensified. It was suffocating. Farmer stopped his jokes about the wee girl then! As the vet washed it out, black sludge, and chunks of rotten, well, meat came pouring out of the cow. It was vile. The thought of that all fermenting inside her was awful, the poor thing. Her vagina had to be flushed until the water ran clear. It took a long time.
But, after all of this the thing that horrified me most was a human mother SUCKING THE SNOT out of a babies nose.
(Fri 22nd Jun 2007, 14:04, More)

» Cheap Tat

Poor Aldi/Lidl...
.... Are getting a right kicking on here. And now I'm going to put my boot in.
I lived next to stables, and so, in Summer, the whole are was buzzing with flies. Opening a door or window (As you are wont to do on a summers day) meant letting in the winged pests, who would happily buzz around my house annoying the crap out of me. I'm a poor drop out, so when a "friend" pointed out that one of those cheap foreign shops was selling electronic bug zappers for something daft like a fiver, I tought "Wahey! That'll do nicely." I plugged it in, and watched, waiting to see which fly got caught up first. They all ignored it. Dancing around the air in front of me, taunting me. I kept it though, thinking that if I even got one fly with it, I'd be happy. I did hear a crack come from it once, but when I looked, I saw a fly flying away, woozily, from it. Blasted thing.
(Wed 9th Jan 2008, 18:03, More)

» I Drank Meths (pointless teenage things you did to shock)

Sorry for length in Advance
I had (have) a genuine medical problem but I used it to full advantage at school. Most of my teachers didn't really understand what I had (It's a bit like Asthma)so used to freak out if I even cleared my throat. So, in school, I never wore the school skirt, I wore my jeans instead. I often left the school without signing out, or without permission, because I was "sick". Never had homework done because I was too sick the night before. In classes I didn't like (Irish, Maths and Chemistry)my friends would make me laugh, I'd start coughing, and I'd have to leave the class. The friend would come with me, and we'd spend the rest of the class in the loos. Soon we realised that the prayer room was a much better place, as it was sound proof. I never once went to a Chem class in 4th year. I only had it for half the year, to see if I wanted to do it for my leaving, but after one class I knew I didn't. The teacher was a whore. So I just never went. Cos I was "sick". I never went to PE. (Yet still got a cert to say I can teach volley ball) Yet, I was always considered well behaved. I got detention a few times (Never actally went, cos I was- Oh, you know) for minor things. But my proudest rebillions were fucking a priest out of it in class. I called him a "Fucking Prick" and all. I can't belive it now. Best part is, the priest, who normally went running to the year head in signs of trouble, didn't even repot me. Cos he knew I was right. Take that Fr. Heheir!
(Thu 19th Jul 2007, 19:18, More)
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