I tried to get an appointment a while back to get the boys checked out.
So the guardian of the surgery says “Sorry, you cant make an appointment but I can put you on the doctors call list for later.” She wasn’t impressed said okay but pointed out that unless doctor was actually able to feel my balls over the phone is was probably a waste of time.

Had lower colonoscopy with small Hubble telescope shoved up backside! To give the camera some room they inflate your colon, which is bloody painful. After finding nothing and feeling very bloated I was given some wadding to put in my boxers to collect any seepage.

I was then sent for a blood test and the nurse said I looked very miserable to which I grumpily replied “I’ve just had my arse inflated to a million psi of course I’m not happy”. Riding home on the motorbike was interesting, the vibrations meant I farted continuously all the way back. Boxers were consigned to the dustbin as well.

Once you’ve been through 2 pregnancies and given birth, there’s not much you get embarrassed about!

jeepers people,am not sure whether to laugh or cry at those stories 😆

i hope you are all well now everyone 🙂

i now have a picture of me having my “area” er examined,when the door is left open and the waiting room of people are seeing the whole thing (and holding cards marked out of 10 😆

thanks a lot 😉

Couple of years ago I managed to come off my bike and break both arms badly enough to end up in the back of an Ambo and into the back of A&E I laid there feeling pretty jiddy on gas/air and morphine, as various docs prodded me about – the whole time I was dying for a pee but everyone seems so busy and with both arms ruined I didn’t fancy the mechanics of it until I was cast and sent home – after all, I’d broken bones before, I knew the routine.

An hour or so of prodding later it was dawning on me I wasn’t going home that night, I was getting ready to bust a kidney by this point but I knew it couldn’t be long before they were done with me and I could take a slash.

Another hour or so later it was only the pain meds stopping me pissing myself and they started wheeling me out of the room and I was thanking my lucky starts I could take a slash (by this point a dump wouldn’t have gone amiss either).

Only it wasn’t to be, suddenly they dropped a gown over me and started cutting off my kit! i was going straight into surgery – I kind of worked out I was seconds away from a general and whatever they do with ‘expulsions’ in surgery but I couldn’t face it whilst dying for a slash so I begged them to stop which caused all sorts of panicked looks, “why?!”

“I need a wee wee” (I was 30, not 3)

“Oh, don’t worry about it”

“I can’t do it if I need a wee!”

In the end, a lovely, very large, very camp Nurse took what seemed like a miniature version of my chap (I was in shock after all) and popped a carboard bottle over the end of it and we waited, and waited – 3 nurses, 2 porters, 2-3 docs / surgeons all starring at me and nothing, I just couldn’t go!

I was glad to pass out from the general just to escape the shame.

I had been operated on after finding a lump on one of my balls, the day after the scar area was black and very inflated (i found out I had bled internally) two women in checkered medical tunics walk by so I ask them to look and see if all was ok. One comes over and has a look then calls the other over, she looks then looks at her friend then says she doesn’t know but will get a nurse to check it (apparently the cleaners wear the same uniform just a different colours to the nurses at that hospital) them walking off laughing didn’t help my embarrassment any either!

I recently had surgery to piece what was left of my kneecap back together after it got attacked by a handlebar during an mtb tumble. When I came to after the surgery I woke up and pretty much straight away started screaming in agony. After a cocktail of painkillers did nothing to allay my screaming, the increasingly concerned staff ended up giving me IV ketamine. I went from agony to completely off my tits in the space of a few seconds, eyeballs rolling back in my head and gurning like a casualty from a Dreamscape rave circa ’93. The next few hours proceeded with me talking utter gibberish to my girlfriend and the nurses who had to sit with me. Topics of conversation included: Paddington Bear’s sideline dealing quaaludes and snorting marmalade, there being a gateway to hell in the basement and how had no one spotted this glaring design flaw for the hospital, insisting that someone had built an airport specifically for dwarves in the middle of the recovery room, confusion as to why there were two fat women climbing into trunks and feeling sorry for a male nurse who couldn’t see the badgers and raccoons frolicking all over the place.

Unfortunately for my girlfriend, she’s a nurse in the same hospital and was actually working that night. She got a lot of updates from the other staff about how ‘off my face’ I was and how amusing/weird/grim it all was.

A lad I know out here’s daughter was sick, he is a single dad, so was the one that had to take her to the doctor.

His daughter is bilingual, Dad is passable Thai.

As they stood there at the counter of the doctors with him trying to explain to the person behind the counter what was wrong with his daughter, she kept pulling his arm and saying Daddy.

After a good few attempts, she gave one last hard tug,at the dad looked at her, and asked her what is wrong, I’m trying to explain what is wrong with you.

“Daddy! This is the vets!”

Two spring to mind. One, in the first few weeks at Uni, I broke my helmet strap bumping uglies with a girl. When I got myself to the Dr’s a few hours later, still ‘drunk’ I got the giggles explaining what had happened to the pretty doctor. Properly giggling. I was struggling to breathe for a good few minutes before I was able to tell her what was wrong?

The second was after I had a pilinoidal absys (sp?) removed from my perinium. It was an open wound so it could ‘heal from the inside out’ and it was big.

An hour or two after the op and when I was still a little out of it, I went to the bathroom, turned around and had a look at my backside in the mirror. My screams could be heard from a different floor, as I was later told!