b3ta.com user Sweeplovesfisting
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Shit Times.
In 2000, my Mrs and I at a routine ultrasound scan 38 weeks into pregnancy were told that our baby wasn't alive. (weeks later we found out that the acid reflux doctors had diagnosed her with during the pregnancy was actually pancreatitis, which was assumed to be the reason why we lost our little girl). she then had to give birth naturally, we had to bury the daughter we'd never got to meet.

Later in the year when her symptoms were worse and not masked by the pregnancy, the pancreatitis was diagnosed by an f1 AFTER being sent home from A and E a dozen times in as many days by consultants who weren't worried because the ecg she'd had every time she was there was within the norms. It seems every consultant that saw her had forgotten that chest pain isn't just down to heart problems, but a lowly f1, with fresher training, AND going against the opinions of her consultant tested for pancreatitis anyway. If she hadn't done the test, my Mrs would be dead. she spent a week in intensive care, had an operation to have her gall bladder removed, and went on to recover physically.

I spent nearly 8 months holding in tears, and I eventually broke down when my mum asked me if I was o.k.

Shit times. Just, really shit times.
(Fri 2nd Aug 2013, 8:58, More)

» Bodge Jobs

fixing? does a meal count?
This tale of genius stems back from my days learning how to make shiny lanterns be all shiny on silly actor types. We were the BTEC first group, the scum of the theatre, not even allowed to play with the nobs and slidey bits in the main auditorium. Relegated to the "back studio" for our performances, just to make sure we knew our place. Destined to spend a year feeling like retarded wannabes playing with the shitty equipment that you'd only normally find in a primary school drama club.

We were doing some shit that involved projecting silhouettes onto a shitty cobbled together piece of flat scenery and painting around them, trying to make it look as rubbish as possible, when my friend and comrade Ben, having already eaten his genoa cake ends that he bought from weigh and save, along with his 2 litre bottle of 26p cresta lemonade from sainsburys, he decided that he was still hungry, and thirsty. What better way to satisfy both hunger and thirst than with a cheap tin of soup.

But wait.

How does he cook such a meal with only the most basic of basic theatre equipment?

Well, first you pierce a hole in the top of the tin. No lighting technician worth his salt is ever without a nice sharp hard edge lurking within his penknife. So, hole pierced. Now what? To the average human being, game over. No microwave, no saucepan, no heat source... or was there...

Our hero took the half used roll of Gaffer tape, the tiny desk lamp that was positioned by the shitty travel lighting board and proceeded to become a legend in his own lifetime.
Step one. Tilt light back.
Step two. Tape the can to the light making sure the 40 watt bulb is in direct contact with the can.
Step three. Make sure the setup is stable.
Step four. Plug in and turn on light.
Step five. Wait for an hour or until there are bubbling noises coming from can.
Step six. Open can being careful not to burn yourself.
Step seven. Consume soup.

It took ages, but dammit, that S.O.B was eating soup while the rest of us starved.

I fucking love you Ben.
(Tue 15th Mar 2011, 12:02, More)