Story telling

[Ripsnort]

True stories.

Today is the 25th anniversary of my emergency appendectomy surgery (spelling).

The surgery went well, typical, fever, stomach ache that turns to an abdominal ache.. into the Emergency room, surgery, and sent home the next day.

I didn't poop for 3 days after my A-surg.

Post-surgery meds, constipation to the max...my wife is an RN, I was at the point of begging her to bring me in and get 'flushed'..."Nope, you'll get over it, rub some dirt in it" attitude. So I took a few more laxatives, actually a LOT of laxatives for the next 72 hours......nothing until the night of Day 3, as it will ever be known in our family history......

The Night of Day 3 began with typical whining that I had not crapped in over 72 hours, my belly looked as though I was pregnant, and I knew it was a matter of time before I burst like a ripe peach in the hot summer sun.
The wife was having nothing of it...no sympathy, "you'll get over it" attitude knowing that eventually in nature, what goes in, MUST come out.

I was in serious pain, in a 'pinch' if you will, where I could no longer ingest anymore food because my colon so so backed up into the large intestine and small intestine that it affected the stomach. I was like a Manhattan traffic jam...with no end in sight.

And then, the wife (Did I mention she was an RN?  ) gave me an "insider's secret"...she stated "Sometimes with patients that experience extreme discomfort we will 'get things moving' in the bed pan with a glove and a small pinky finger..."
"Really" I ask? "You can't be serious!" "Will you do that for me?" I suddenly realized that I had picked the best wife based on profession!

"Oh hell no, you pinky yourself big man!" What a downer! My wife, who had pinky'd a patient or two in her life unwilling to pinky her soul mate's butthole !?! I wondered if I'd made the right choice for a wife!!!

Then, at 3am in the morning of "The Night of Day 3" I sat on the toilet, for the 24th time in 3 days, trying to get movement...nothing.

Then I thought "Maybe, I - should- try- the- self-administered- pinky"....

Well, let me tell you, it comes to a point in life where you must tend to your own wounds, change your first pair of diapers,...and in my case, stick my finger up my butt hole...

And when I did, there was such as explosion that literally 1 gallon of brown, muddy water came rushing out so fast that the pressure literally took the water out of the toilet bowl and deposited upon my backside, overside, and onto the floor.

I POOPED! I POOPED! I POOPED! I POOPED! I POOPED!

What a relief! I felt like I'd been reborn! I was so excited I ran into the bedroom, complete with ass-a-brown, and dripping, turned on the lights (mind you at 3am...) and proclaimed to my RN wife "I POOPED"!!!!!

She calmly looked at me, gave me a once-over up and down with her sleepy eyes and said "Clean it up, and use bleach whoopeeit..."

Well, that's the end pretty much, in undramatic fashion with an RN not willing to celebrate in a bodily function-come true.I spent the next 30 minutes at 3am in the morning cleaning up my backside, cleaning the toilet, the floor,( even cleaning the toilet paper dispenser --Could the pressure REALLY pop it up 8" to that contraption>?!!) muttering to myself "I pooped. I pooped...I POOPED"

So, bottom line is this: We all take our bodily functions for granted...until they are no longer there, then it becomes an obsession to get them working again and you'll do ANYTHING, including sticking your finger up your own stunninghunk, to get them working again.

The end.

[SysError]

 

I'm glad that your natural bodily emergency resolved itself.
 

[zack1234]

Awesome story

More please

[deSelys]

Not my story, but in case you missed it when it went viral:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/cdp/member-reviews/AOS3KCE286T0P/ref=cm_cr_pr_auth_rev/276-8562487-4063140?ie=UTF8&sort_by=MostRecentReview

Veet -- the Men's Hair Removal Gel Creme (from hell) . . ., 30 July 2012

This review is from: Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Cream 200 ml (Personal Care)

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits.

Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit of a treat.I ordered it well in advance and working in the North sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was.

I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.

At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.

Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg.

Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel of in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair.Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief.

I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned.

Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse.

This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it's way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it's engines behind me.This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain.

The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.

Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering..." Ooooh that feels good "

Understandingly this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction.

I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status...

So to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect.......

[Ripsnort]

lol deSelys!

[Curval]

I had a similar experience (sans pinkie) after my back surgery.  A blood clot near my spine sparked a shut down of my stomach and bowels After I had eaten a few meals.

I learned just how painful stomach problems could be.  I even refused any morphine for my back because the doc said it was bad for the stomach issue.

The day of relief came on my birthday.  It was my birthday present to myself....best birthday gift ever.

[Ripsnort]

I had a similar experience (sans pinkie) after my back surgery.  A blood clot near my spine sparked a shut down of my stomach and bowels After I had eaten a few meals.

I learned just how painful stomach problems could be.  I even refused any morphine for my back because the doc said it was bad for the stomach issue.

The day of relief came on my birthday.  It was my birthday present to myself....best birthday gift ever.

"Happy birthday to meeee" (phfffft)
Lol

[Meatwad]

Birthday fudge

[tmetal]

Ah, story time. Here's my "best" one so far

First day of Christmas break my senior year of High School. Varmint hunting/population control in the "back 40" of a friends cattle ranch; riding around in the bed of a pickup truck.  Got way too lax with my gun safety practices and suffered a self inflicted GSW from a .22cal pistol to the upper left leg (upper enough to be glad the wedding tackle was hanging to the right that day). 

So for a very unlucky event brought about by stupidity, I also got very lucky in a few key ways.

• out of the 11 rounds in the gun, the round in question was the only solid point (loaded in at random somewhere near the middle of the stack) the other 10 were hollow points
• x-rays showed that the bullet passed straight through and exited without fragmenting (entered upper inner left thigh and exited mid upper left thigh just below the left *ahem* cheek
• on its brief tour of the inside of my leg the bullet decided not to visit the bone, arteries or major nerve cluster that run through the area

Spent the night at the hospital and was released the following morning; the rest of my 2 week break was spent drugged up on pain meds while sprawled on the couch or hobbling on crutches; all while listening to the same Forest Gump joke (something bit me!!) from friends, family and well wishers.  The only lingering effect is sharp waves of hot pain (yeah this pain definitely has a heat to it) that run up and down my left leg when i get too hot, or I tend to limp slightly when I have been on my feet for long periods of time.  Overall, I think I got off easy from such a vivid yet lenient lesson in safe gun handling methods; and I make sure to pass the story on to anybody who could benefit from it.

[Ripsnort]

"Wedding tackle"
LMAO! I'm using that one! 

[Volron]

Not my story, but in case you missed it when it went viral:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/cdp/member-reviews/AOS3KCE286T0P/ref=cm_cr_pr_auth_rev/276-8562487-4063140?ie=UTF8&sort_by=MostRecentReview

 

"Wedding tackle"
LMAO! I'm using that one! 

Been a while since I heard that one.

[zack1234]

I have read the Sprout story to my wife.

She has said i am not allowed to play AH again.

[deSelys]

  Zack




Just watched this talk. Powerful beyond words... Kind of funny too, and as it involves a bit of pooping (SFW), I thought that it would be appropriate:

http://www.ted.com/talks/ed_gavagan_a_story_about_knots_and_surgeons

[craz07]

the narzies fault no doubt

[BaldEagl]

OK.  So this is a true story.  The setting is the downtown strip in a very, very cold northern city during winter.

Much earlier in my life, out drinking with friends and co-workers after work, we left the bar at closing which was 1:00 AM at the time.  Back in the day, this downtown strip was a two way street and the cool thing to do was to drive up and down it.  At bar closing the streets were alive with people and the main drag was four lanes packed with cars from end to end.  The cars were largely stationary objects with the occupants staring out at their fellow passengers and pedestrian passers representing the best and the worst, the sane and the insane, the rich and the poor and every other corner of society.

There was construction of some type going on along the main street we were walking down with scaffolding climbing several stories up a building.  Somehow, in my drunken state, I decided it would be a good idea to climb said scaffolding.  I remember climbing past the first story.  The next thing I remember was waking up in  snowbank at 6:00 AM, hung over, cold and my blue suede fleece lined winter coat covered in dried white salt.

With thoughts of going home, I realized that I'd forgotten where my car was, but in a strange twist of circumstance, I was in a snowbank right outside my place of employment; the county hospital from which I'd left the prior evening to go drinking with my friends and co-workers.

This is great!  I'll go in, use the phone, call home to my roommate and get him to come pick me up and bring me home.  A plan!  Except the front doors were locked.  Ugh.  I could see the information desk employee through two layers of glass doors so I started pounding on the doors trying to get her attention.  No response.  She never even looked my way.  How can she ignore a fellow employee pounding on the door?

Just as I was beginning to give up all hope of making it home alive a security guard showed up at the door.  He looked at me quizzically through the two layers of protective glass separating us as I pounded on the door pleading... "I work here.  Let me in."  I'm confident he was looking at me through the glass, doing a poor job of lip reading and wondering what type of lunatic he'd never anticipated running into in his cushy hospital security guard position.

Somehow, and I have no explanation for it, he finally relented and let me in.  I borrowed the front desk phone, called home and got my roommate to come pick me up and bring me home.  Once there I went straight to bed.  I woke up twelve hours later and threw up for another twelve hours.  I was so sick I pleaded with my roommate to bring me to the emergency room.  He wouldn't.  I was pissed but so sick I had no recourse but to ride it out.

When the illness passed I remembered where my car was.  On the ride to pick it up my roommate filled me in on the missing part of my life.  I'd fallen from the scaffolding into the street full of cars, landing on my head and knocking myself out.  My friends dragged me to their car, put me in the back seat and drove around for four hours looking for my car.  At that point, I came to enough to tell them I knew where may car was and to let me out so I could go get it and drive home which they did.  Instead, as soon as they had driven away I passed out in the snowbank pretty much where they'd left me.

I suffered repercussions from this for several years afterward.  I'd get dizzy spells in which the world around me would start to spin and I'd lose me balance.  There was no way to control it and it happened to me once while driving down a busy inner city freeway which was scary as hell.  The doctors told me I'd shifted some type of grains of something in my ears and that it would clear up over time as I adjusted to it which, ultimately, it did.

I feel lucky to have lived through another harrowing experience in my life and one I'll never forget.  I've had so many near death experiences (electrocuted, kidnapped with intent to kill me, hit a deer on a motorcycle at 60 mph and others) it's a wonder I'm still alive.  Each one teaches a lesson, no matter how big or small, but you remember the big lessons in life.