Reading the Swinley Crash thread and some medical “moments” made me think of a few i’ve had, especially as i am a master of the unusual injury:

– When at uni, i managed to get frostbite working in a poultry abattoir in holidays, unusually it was at the top of my thigh (they thought that carrying large boxes from +5 to -20 degrees, meant that my groin was sweating and the sweat was freezing on my legs) this meant that i went to York Hospital, where they were unsure how to treat it, but did allow 20+ students to walk through taking a look at me with my trousers round my ankles, they then decided i should go to Leeds Hospital as they had a specialist burns unit, cue another load of students trawling through.

– Came off bike on “Road of Death in Bolivia” meaning I dislocated shoulder, broke arm and stuck brake lever in top of leg, right next to frostbite scar, when they finally got round to operating on my leg, they did that thing where they put the sheets round the injury, just leaving the area to operated on exposed, unfortunately this meant that “little Scud” was perfectly framed, and they seemed to delight in leaving the Gringo on a bed right in the middle of a ladies ward just before the operating theatre. This was followed by a Bolivian lady nurse who kept insisting on helping me go to the loo even though i could manage it.

Any one else got any tales of medical mirth to brighten up a dull day?

never put your finger where you wouldnt put your cock

Well I was once making some cucumber sandwiches naked….

I had a ” Casanova ” fracture [ heelbone.called such because it is caused by a fall of around fifteen feet onto a hard surface. I other words around bedroom window height. On the one had I had a fracture on the other the doctors pointed and laughed .

The only time in my life I have been constipated, I panicked and went to A&E (I know, I know). Anyway, they gave me some suppositories and laxatives and sent me on my way. As I left, the nurse who had been “dealing” with me said, in a very loud voice so everyone could hear, “don’t forget, shove them right up boss!” 😆

snapped banjo string when 1st courting my wife. messy.

It involved a nineteen year-old IHN, an examination for a potential hernia, two female student doctors and the preceding walk to the clinic on a very cold day…

In for a quick op under local to fix the banjo string. Lying starkers on operating table, surgeon, anesthetist, 4 x nurses around me. Very cold room, a little apprehensive. Mini Houns went in to hiding. Female anesthetist approached mini Houns with the syringe “just a little prick” everyone went silent, she looked mortified….. I removed the tension with “can you blame him?! He’s terrified!” 😳 😆

Lying in the hospital bed after breaking my back snowboarding in Bulgaria, the nurse walked over and laid a bedpan beside me. She pointed at it and said “Pishy, Pishy”….like that was going to happen. After about 10 minutes of her trying to convince me to go in this thing, (I was still wearing my full snowbarding kit, just without the jacket and boots), she and one of the cleaning ladies came over and shouted “Pishy Pishy” at me again. When this didn’t work, the nurse grabbed my tadger and started pumping my bowels like a bellow. That didn’t work either, so both of them rolled up their sleeves (no gloves), and fitted the tube.
A couple of days later and I was reeking to high heaven, still in the same clothes. I had a pack of wet wipes in my bag and had managed to convince one of the nurses to bring it over to me. When she saw I was trying to wash myself, she and a couple of orderlies decided to dive in and help. They stripped me naked, and washed me with the wet wipes, in the middle of the afternoon….in the middle of the ward…no privacy curtains…during visiting hours.
I think it was the same day that they decided that because I hadn’t done a No.2, it needed to be done there and then. So one nurse rolled me partly over, whilst the other one wielded a sort of shovel shaped cardboard bedpan, attempting to ram it under my arse cheeks. There was a lot of screaming coming from me at this point as it was all a bit hurty. That’s when one of the other patients came over, shouting at the nurses and orderlies. They went away and came back with a giant pampers nappy.
A day later, my insurance company finally got me transferred out of the state hospital in Sofia into a private clinic. As I awaited the transfer, one of the nurses came over with a pair of pyjama bottoms ( I assume to hide the nappy), as she turned away to speak to someone, I got a glimpse of the rear of the pyjamas with their yellow-brown urine/shit stained pattern extending down half their length. I was still wearing them, the same nappy, the same dirty catheter and the same dirty canulae in my arm when the air ambulance crew finally came and rescued me on the fifth day after the accident.
I was flown home to Edinburgh airport in a wee 8 seater Lear air ambulance then transferred to Forth Valley Hospital, a place of Angels and Professional, well funded staff.

I love the NHS and won’t hear anything said against it! 🙂

Starting to see the funny side of everything that happened now though!

Have told this before in various snip threads but here goes again.

I was ‘lucky’ enough to be sent by my PCT to a private provider for my vasectomy. Nice tea and biscuits in the waiting room, good magazines, not too shabby… i was quite enjoying the experience.

Then your name’s called, and you go into the ante-room, which is basically a small corridor between the waiting room and the actual room, with a chair in. “Strip off your bottom half” said the nurse, “and when you’re ready come through. Oh, but leave your socks on, the room’s cold”

So problem one is the walk of shame; a human version of Donald Duck with socks on. Where do you put your hands? In front, like a footballer in a wall? Proudly by your side in a ‘Hey ladies, look what I’ve got!’ pose? I don’t remember but it didn’t matter because the female doctor wanted to shake my hand anyway, and shaking hands with someone while having your knob hanging out isn’t easily bluffed.

Next problem is once on the operating bed. A sheet is laid over your nethers. A sheet with a carefully stitched hole in it. Through which wee jonny and his mates are now pulled. I’m now laying on my back in a room with three women looking on and the ONLY thing to look at is my shrivelling cock (she was right about the socks, but I’ve only just now realised maybe she meant Red Hot Chili Peppers style) At which point a pot of paint and a brush is produced, and holding it by the end to keep it out of the way (not the brush…) my meat and two are now liberally painted with antiseptic.

I’ve blanked the rest, suffice to say after having your cock and balls painted while people watch on, they can do whatever else they like as long as it’s a/ fast and b/ avoids eye contact.

Not me but a good friend – after years of serious back problems he was being checked over by a female doctor (he was wearing nothing but a gown). He was laying on his front as she checked his back then she asked him to turn over and he said he couldn’t.

She said ‘sorry, does it hurt’?

He said, ‘err, no, not that’.

So she replies ‘Ahh, okay, I understand. I’ll come back in a few minutes’.

🙂

I once was given some wooden beads of varying sizes to put in one hand, and had to examine my plumbs in the other then tell the doctor which one they were on the scale of tiny to massive.

Being a teenager and young (fit) lady doctor I wasn’t sure to overestimate but then I wasn’t sure what normal was so didn’t want to end up being rushed into surgery for inflamed bollocks or something 😆

theotherjonv – Member

😆

Stoner –
never put your finger where you wouldnt put your cock

Oh gawd. I think I know her.

Ive survived penile cancer & the resulting op. Any vestige of modesty has long left the building!! 😯

I was ‘lucky’ enough to be sent by my PCT to a private provider for my vasectomy. Nice tea and biscuits in the waiting room, good magazines, not too shabby… i was quite enjoying the experience.

Great review on Snip Advisor.

Great review on Snip Advisor.

That made me giggle randomly in a quiet office!

Ooh – I have along, long list of moments. I’m just not sure you lot could cope… 😉

Rachel

Colonoscopy was less than enjoyable. Horrific pain and room full of med students with my bare arse in full view. Passed out due to the pain and woke up in the recovery room 😳

Oh gawd. I think I know her.

Louise?

Broken back was a fun time. Many moments, but 2 that stick out:

1. While lying, totally immobile in a French hospital bed and wearing only a hospital gown, it was apparently routine for medical personnel to walk into the room and, without introducing themselves, grab me by the bollocks and ask if I could feel it. My Mrs reckons they weren’t actually doctors, someone had just set up a stall outside the door.

2. I wasn’t able to bend at the waist, at all, for several weeks. This made getting dressed somewhat difficult. As a result, the local nurse, on letting herself into my house (as nurses tend to do), walked in on me naked from the waist down, with my boxers and shorts on the floor, with ropes looped through each leg while I tried to pull them up. Cue the question of “Are you coping OK with this?” (“Yes, I’m fine, but since you’re here, please pull my pants up for me!”). System had actually worked pretty well up to that point, I’d just got it tangled on that occasion!

Only once, they say if you’re really in trouble you don’t care, and I didn’t… at the time.

8 years ago I smashed myself up badly at Afan, arrived at the Princess of Wales broken and bleeding, spent about an hour being seen and prodded by a long line of Docs and Surgeons before heading off to surgery, I was a bit ‘confused’ half from Morphine half from Concussion and Shock, but as I’m being wheeled in I was dying for a slash, bursting – I begged them to let me go to the toilet – which wasn’t really practical given the state of me – the guy wheeling me in said not to worry, they can take care of all that when I’m out but I was convinced I’d piss myself on ‘the slab’ and would be embarrassed and was getting a bit upset…

So, stopped in that little room before you go in, everyone, about 10 of them, stopped, a male and slightly camp chap, took hold of my ‘chap’ and thumbed it into a cardboard bottle, thumbed because I’ve always been ‘a grower, not a shower’ and also given the state of me and blood loss – it was almost inverted – NOTHING, NOT A TRICKLE. They Waited, no one said anything, eyes rolled, he tucked me away and that’s the last I remember of it.

After I broke my hip I found I couldn’t pee into the container laying down. Everything just seized up as soon as I tried despite there being pints of wee in my bladder so they threatened to catheterise me.

I asked if I could stand up and try and they agreed but for the first couple of days I couldn’t stand on one leg without using two crutches due to the morphine so I had to ask a nurse to hold the container while I pee’d into it. I still blush now thinking about it.

I think that we can all agree that in our most embarrassing moments the medical staff are ace! Can’t be an easy job

Also had the snapped banjo string. That was a fun few minutes stood infront of the doctor with my pants round my ankles. My mate who gave me a lift down to the surgery thought it was hilarious though.

Also lying there, pants down being given a good grope after finding a worrying lump. That wasn’t embarrassing though, the terror of what I might be told at the end did away with all that.

Having rarely troubled my doctors (not been in 12 years) i had 3 visits in one year which required them to fondle my nut sack on each occassion. What made it worse was that none of my ailments had anything to do with my nether regions! It was a lean year on the romance stakes so it was at least nice that someone other than me got to play with them 🙂

After surviving a nasty motorcycle crash and waking up in hospital smelling of petrol and finding my lovely mug covered in dressings I thought “what else could possibly be wrong with me?”
I discovered that I had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a couple of days and everyone was justifiably more interested in keeping me alive rather than worrying about the state of “the gentleman’s tackle” down below.
Apparently the petrol tank had burst open and soaked my lower body (luckily no fireball as we are not in the USA). You can well imagine the state of the “pecker” after being soaked in petrol and not being cleaned off for several days. It made things look as though they had been out in the midday sun for about a week. Yes, he was all red with dry cracked flesh – and generally not looking his best.
It was decided by the medical staff that the youngest female trainee nurse should be dispatched to attend to the said appendage. The dry peeling skin needed to be removed and cream rubbed in – as a seventeen year-old lad I had no trouble standing to attention as I spied the whole of the medical staff from that floor observing proceedings….

Very Singing Detective biggee.

Lie back and think of Pythagoras.

All I can add is as a nurse I have been on the other side of a few of these type of incidents. Keeping a straight face is professional but you should hear what we say when you can’t see us.

One of my friends is a district nurse, and recently had to attend to a fella in his home who’s catheter was blocked and he was unable to pee. She was caught up on a couple of previous calls, so when she got to his place he was, pretty literally, bursting, and in a lot of pain.

So, she took out the blocked catheter and all that pressure was released. All over her. “Like a firehose” apparently and whilst it was happening the chap was groaning with relief, but when he realised what had happened he was mortified 🙂

Nothing compared to some of the above, but I had a colonoscopy and the camera malfunctioned halfway to its destination. They tried again, but my tenderised arse internals had had enough by that point 🙁 seeing your bare arse get closer, closer and then disappear on a video screen was a tad embarrassing too

Repetitive strain injury . . . in my wrist. 😳

(Strimmer related, honest.)

having had loads of tests, and then surgery, for prostate cancer a few years ago I can empathise with many of these incidents.

Again, big heads up to the medics who make it all possible 🙂

Related – got abused by a NHS worker once.

Perineal abscess (*extra hole in the arse – ho hum), just back home after op, so was getting visited daily by a nurse at home to help change dressing. (*I was about 50 but in good shape – thanks bikes and hockey) anyway the nurse turned up, female, cheeky smile, mid 50s, in a soft top sports car, in she comes, no time for coffee, I had to assume the position – shreddies down, bent forward – she changed the dressing, then the cheeky sod copped a feel and said fine firm buttocks young man….

On holiday in Spain, was getting frisky with a local lady in my hotel room, when I noticed the bed sheets were changing colour from white to red.

The lady screamed and legged it into the bathroom thinking she was about to die.

Me in the mean time realised the problem was my banjo string, decided to wrap it up with a pillow case.

The lady returned and said she would leave and seek me some help.

So there I was lay in bed with a pillow case covering my manhood which was slowly going red!

After what felt like a lifetime (I was drunk), this man knocked on the door and mumbled something Spanish, me being a Brit thought you look like a Dr and decided to unwrap my red pillow case standing covered in blood in fromt of him, pointing to the problem…

It was a cleaner!

& my lady never returned 🙂

I was seeing a rather attractive chiropractor and having my back massaged . I started to feel as if I had a big fart on the way so I asked her to stop for a moment as something was happening below the waist . She stopped , I didn’t fart but when I got home it occurred to me that she must have thought that I meant I was getting a hard on . Next week I decided not to ignore it so I told her that I meant I was going to fart and not that I was getting a hard on and we both laughed and we’re both a little embarrassed .

That’s brilliant ^

I can imagine you walking home and think “oh crap she must have thought…”

Two student nurses sent in to remove stitches from my scrotum. To be fair more nerve wracking than embarrassing. I’m not sure who was sweating most.

So we need to start a poll –

Who has not snapped their banjo string?

Mine went in the 1970s

Couple of guitar strings and a viola string, but never a banjo string.