General Forums => The O' Club => Topic started by: Ripsnort on July 13, 2015, 09:15:40 PM
Title: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 13, 2015, 09:15:40 PM
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.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: SysError on July 13, 2015, 10:20:06 PM
:rofl
I'm glad that your natural bodily emergency resolved itself.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: zack1234 on July 14, 2015, 04:04:40 AM
Awesome story
More please
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: deSelys on July 14, 2015, 07:42:26 AM
Not my story, but in case you missed it when it went viral:
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.......
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 14, 2015, 08:06:49 AM
lol deSelys!
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Curval on July 14, 2015, 08:35:30 AM
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.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 14, 2015, 12:37:19 PM
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
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Meatwad on July 14, 2015, 12:50:17 PM
Birthday fudge
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: tmetal on July 14, 2015, 02:53:25 PM
Ah, story time. Here's my "best" one so far :cheers:
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.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 14, 2015, 07:25:20 PM
"Wedding tackle" LMAO! I'm using that one! :rock
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Volron on July 14, 2015, 08:21:21 PM
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: craz07 on July 15, 2015, 11:09:29 AM
the narzies fault no doubt
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: BaldEagl on July 17, 2015, 02:37:11 AM
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.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 17, 2015, 09:38:33 AM
Wow! And kidnapped? You have to tell THAT story! :eek:
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: BaldEagl on July 17, 2015, 09:38:00 PM
OK. You asked for it.
I was I my 20's, going to college and working part time to support myself. For work I was the janitor at a railroad yard office. I worked for a janitorial service company rather than as a railroad employee. The job could be done at any time of day as long as it was done once a day. The job itself took about two hours to complete and no matter what, I got paid for four hours for going there and doing it. The time commitment vs pay combined with the flexibility made it a nearly ideal job for a college student.
My dad had bought a new car and handed down the family wagon. It was a 1968 Chevy Impala wagon with one of the the Corvette 327's putting out something like 340 HP. It was pretty damn fast for a non descript wagon.
So one day I'm headed off to work, a short drive across town, most of which was on the freeway. As I approached the ramp to the freeway there were two young girls standing at the freeway entrance hitch hiking. Being the good Samaritan that I am I stopped to give them a ride. As they were sliding into the front seat beside me my back door opened and two black guys slipped into the back seat. I'd barely noticed them sitting on a bus stop bench just around the corner from the girls.
One of them immediately slid in behind me and put a knife to my neck and ordered me to start driving. Now normally I'd be headed west to work but they wanted to go south so rather than making my normal freeway change I just continued the way we were going. Being the poor college student that I was my hot rod wagon was running on fumes so as we hit the outer edge of the suburbs they told me to stop for fuel, threatening to kill me if I tried anything during the stop.
There was a gas station just off the freeway and as I pulled in to a stop the girl next to me remained where she was, the guy behind me remained where he was, knife in hand. The other guy and girl got out, trading places leaning against my drivers door while the guy pumped gas and the girl ran in to pay. Fueled up we were back on our way.
Passing the last vestiges of the city and out on the open road we were about twenty minutes out when one of the guys spotted a thick grove of trees beside the freeway and, after a brief discussion about dragging me out there they told me to stop the car. I did.
The told me to hand hem the keys and as the guys opened the door they made the mistake of both getting out of the passenger side of the car, probably to avoid opening the drivers side door to traffic, and as they did I opened my own door (at this point I didn't care if a passing car ripped the door off) and bolted across the southbound lanes for the center median, also lined with trees. I heard them yell "run him over" and just as I reached the median ditch they sped past me barely missing me as I ran.
I crossed the median through the trees and was standing in the middle of the northbound lanes waving my arms hoping someone would stop to help me. About the second or third car did. I hopped in and was excitedly relating my story when I saw a state patrol car on the very first overpass we came to. The driver brought me straight there and I jumped into the squad car telling my story again. The trooper got on the radio describing my car and the occupants then brought me directly to the closest station where I related my story yet again.
They caught the perpetrators within 15-20 minutes of me first getting into the squad car and the troopers at the station told me it looked a little like a scene from Bonnie and Clyde as they surrounded them. The cops wanted to impound my car as evidence but after pleading my case they relented and let me drive it home.
I did end up finding out the names of my captures. The girls were both under age so suffered no long term repercussions but the guys were both legal age. I'm not sure how she got it but a mother/grandmother/aunt of one of the guys called me at home pleading with me to drop the charges because her son was "a good boy". I had no sympathy for her and that was the last I heard about it. I never had to appear in court. I don't know what happened with the guys. I just wanted to put it behind me but I never picked up another hitch hiker after that day.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Zoney on July 18, 2015, 12:54:13 AM
In 1973 my beloved father gave me a new '73 mustang, At the time his car was a 1972 454 Corvette with T-tops in silver. He had had side pipes installed on the car and it was not running quite right so he told me to jump in my Stang and follow him in to the Twin Cities from Hudson Wisconsin where we lived to take it back to the tuner to have it tidied up. It was about a 30 minute drive. We were on a 2 lane highway when I noticed a car coming up behind me and even from a distance it looked sporty. When it got nearer I could see it was a Jaguar XKE convertible in British Racing Green, and is it got a bit nearer, I saw that it was a fantastic looking Red-headed woman. She didn't get too terribly close so I kept trying my best to check her out in the rear view mirror. The highway didn't have much of a shoulder to pull off of, and when my father slowed down and stopped for a hitchhiker, (you still did that back then), he was still on the road. Now of course I didn't notice this because I was intently checking out the babe behind me and doing some serious fantasizing...........WHAM! I rear ended my dad, totaling both cars. I did have a seatbelt on and no one was hurt but I had smacked my nose on the steering wheel and was bleeding pretty good. I could hear my dad screaming swear words as he sat in his Vette unable to open the jammed door. Of course the next car that comes along has to be a cop, I mean what else could it possibly be. He bent down and looked at me through the window and asked if I was alright and I said yes. He said, "let me check out the guy you hit, I'll be right back. My dad is still cursing up a storm and I see him hand the officer his license, as the officer yanks the door open so he can get out. He tells m dad "stay right here, do not walk back to the other car sir" The officer walks back to me and says, "son, just say in your car, that guy in the corvette is madder than hell and it will only be trouble so just stay put". He asks for my license and I give it to him. Mine says Richard E. Stratton Jr. and as he puts it next to my dad's license I see his eyes get real wide, because of course my dad's says, "Richard E. Stratton". He looks at me and says, "That's your dad isn't it". "Yes", I say. He takes both licenses off the clipboard and hands them to me as he says "You're on your own kid.................and walks back to his car and leaves......................
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 18, 2015, 08:36:57 AM
LOL Zoney! Holy toejam! Funny now, but I bet not at the time!
The only major accident I've had other than my motorcycle wreck was when a buddy stop his car in the middle of the road in 1976 near Stacy, MN "To look at deer in the field" I had my GF in the car and naturally I was distracted, totally not expecting someone to stop on a major highway without first pulling off to the shoulder.
I did manage to slow down from 60 mph to 30 locking the brakes up though. Still, both cars totaled. (we both drove beaters in the day)
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Zoney on July 18, 2015, 10:16:17 AM
Rip, my father loved to tell that story so many many times later on. He was always smiling as he re-told it over and over again. He was a generous and forgiving man even though he could certainly get angry with me for my foolishness.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: MrKrabs on July 18, 2015, 02:23:34 PM
When I first moved to Florida when I was still a Tween...
I loved fishing and I thought HEY! I'll go do some surf fishing on a nice beach...
So it was that, a nice day calm surf and plenty of fish... However I did not account for one thing... THE SUN
OH no it wasn't the sunburn on my neck arms and any other "normal" place... It was on my feet...
I did not account for the properties of salt water and extended exposure to the sun in any regard and boy did I get it. This was not just sunburn this was the mother of all sun blisters. I went to the doctor with small blisters that simply got bigger and bigger. As I sat in the office my mother and nurse just stared in entertainment as they watched them grow bigger and bigger right in front of their eyes into one massive blister that completely covered each foot... The doctor walked in and when a doctor just turns around and leaves in disbelief I would think it would be considered an accomplishment...
That's not all... FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGHSCHOOL walking around in loose flip-flops with these mounds of gauze covering the trimmed blisters.... Yeah... I never been so self-conscious in my life looking like that...
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Ripsnort on July 18, 2015, 02:27:48 PM
Keep a close eye on any changing moles, MrKrabs as you age. Those that have had a severe sunburn are more likely to develop melanoma later on in life according to an article I read on the AMA.
Title: Re: Story telling
Post by: Bizman on July 18, 2015, 03:05:01 PM
Keep a close eye on any changing moles, MrKrabs as you age. Those that have had a severe sunburn are more likely to develop melanoma later on in life according to an article I read on the AMA.
Yep, my uncle used to be the goalkeeper of their soccer team. Numerous matches without using a cap are the reason he now has a deep scar the size of a big coin on his forehead as a result of some cancer operation. Melanoma of some sort, I suppose.