Man Who Encases His Privates In Lead Has The Last Laugh

, , , , , , , | Healthy | November 16, 2018

I had testicular cancer and surgery, plus radiation therapy. These treatments needed a lead box closed around my privates. At the end of the last treatment, when the nurse pulled my sheet off to remove the box, he found…

A popped-out single-use turkey thermometer indicating I was done. I had saved it from the Thanksgiving turkey just to place in my navel after the treatment.

He had to run from the room before bursting into laughter.

The Only Reaction We’re Having Is Annoyance

, , , , , , | Healthy | November 9, 2018

(I work for a 24-hour emergency vet. It’s about one am; I usually get strange calls at this time of night.)

Client: “Hi. I was putting some flea medication on my dog and I think I’m having a reaction to it.”

Me: *thinking I misheard her* “Oh, he’s having a reaction to it?”

Client: “No, I am! My hands are breaking out, and I think my throat is getting tight.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry; you’ve called an animal emergency hospital!”

Client: “I know. You guys know what I need to take to fix it right?”

Me: “No, ma’am, you need to call 911 or go to your local emergency room; we only treat pets here.”

Client: “Well, that’s okay. If you guys treat pets, you know what I can take, right? I really wasn’t planning on going anywhere tonight; just tell me what medication you give to pets and I’ll just take a larger dose of it.”

Me: “Ma’am… I’m sorry, but we can’t give medication advice over the phone for pets, and we definitely can’t for people! You need to call 911 or go to the emergency room!”

Client: “You’re just being no help. Do you have a number I can call a different animal hospital? I don’t have Internet, so I can’t look up anything.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you another number for an animal hospital that’s open right now, but I would gladly give you directions to the emergency room closest to you! You definitely need to go to a hospital for people if you’re having a reaction, not animal hospitals.”

Client: “Fine, y’all are just no help! You know, you really should give better advice to people when they call; you are a hospital, you know! I guess I’ll just have to go to the hospital down the road and see if they can help me. I’m never calling you again!” *click*

(I was so mind-blown I had to sit and collect myself for a few minutes. She sounded like a normal, middle-aged woman, so I hope it was a prank call, but unfortunately I don’t think it was.)

Not Ball-Bustingly Funny, But It’ll Do

, , , , , , , , | Healthy | November 1, 2018

(I have been diagnosed with testicular cancer and will have to have one of my testicles removed. I am meeting with the consultant who has run a few tests and has now given me the date of the surgery: the following Monday. It has been a bit of a bureaucratic nightmare to get this point.)

Consultant: “And I’m sorry again that it has taken so long to get to this point, but now that we’ve got the ball rolling—”

Me: *grinning* “Pun intended?”

(The consultant realised what he said, and both he and the nurse laughed. Later he told me he’d had other cancer patients that day who had — understandably — been very upset, and it was nice to see someone dealing with it with humour. The surgery has gone well and I’m making a good recovery!)

Our Deepest Condolences

, , , , , , | Healthy | October 29, 2018

I have been a part of the Not Always Right community for a few years now. This past year, three of my submitted stories have been published: “With A Mother Like That, Pain Tolerance Is Through The Roof,” “Already Has A Big Baby To Look After,” and “Not The Formula For A Successful Doctor.” For those that aren’t familiar, I went into labor at 29 weeks, and gave birth to a beautiful little girl.

My daughter spent 70 days in the NICU. She was released to come home mid-September, with no extra care other than a multivitamin. She was happy, healthy, and so fiercely loved.

After a month of being home, I woke up at about six in the morning with a sinking feeling. I immediately checked on her in her crib, and she was gasping, struggling to breathe. I woke up my partner, and we were going to rush her to the urgent care down the road. As I was getting in the car with her, she stopped breathing completely and went limp. Her father began performing CPR as the NICU had taught us. I called 911.

A firetruck and couple of cops arrived, and paramedics got out and took over. My partner and I were pulled away and gave statements. After a few minutes, an ambulance showed up, and my baby was loaded in and taken away. One of the paramedics offered me a ride to the hospital, and I took it.

When I arrived at the same hospital where she was born, they had managed to restart her heart. They allowed me to watch and touch her while they hooked her up to machinery, and another nurse kept her breathing with a squeeze bag.

They flew my daughter to Children’s Health Care, one of the best hospitals in the nation; think Ronald McDonald house.

My partner picked me up from the local hospital, and we drove an hour to see her at Children’s. We waited for three hours before a couple of doctors pulled us away into a private room.

They told us that she was stable; however, CPR had been performed for more than 20 minutes before she came back. Without oxygen to the brain for three or four minutes, brain cells begin to die and swell. Our daughter was unresponsive, and the doctor predicted that her heart would stop again, and told us that the merciful thing would be to refuse resuscitation. He gave it a day, maybe hours. We asked for resuscitation, anyway; if there was any chance at all, we’d take it.

My daughter made it through the day, and even through the night. Her heart was beating, but she was on max medication, and a ventilator was breathing for her. She was still unresponsive, but the nurses continued to take care of her — and us. We spent the night on the couch in her room. The nurses were absolutely wonderful.

The next morning, the doctor sat down with us and stated that he believed our 14-week-old baby’s brain was non-functional; she was brain dead.

Later that afternoon, he performed what is called a brain dead test, basically dotting Is and crossing Ts on paperwork. While still supplying oxygen, they turned off the ventilator to watch for a breath; her brain should have sent this signal. Ten minutes went by. She didn’t breathe.

At this point, she couldn’t tolerate the test, and they tried to turn the ventilator back on. Her vitals were too out of whack.

Three months after she entered this world so suddenly, she passed away peacefully in our arms.

We are so thankful to every nurse and paramedic, and everyone that helped to take care of our little girl — and us — through this impossible ordeal. These people are angels sent from heaven. My baby girl will never be forgotten.

We love you, River Madeline. You will always be in our hearts.

A Symptom Of Our Oversharing Society

, , , , , | Right | October 28, 2018

(I work for a travel insurance company. One of the things we  do is medical screening. If you have certain pre-existing medical conditions — such as asthma, angina, or diabetes, etc. — you need to pay a small extra premium to cover you. None of us are medically trained; we just input the illness and ask whatever questions our system presents. We need to know exactly what the illness or condition is, and if any medication is taken, exactly what that is, too.  A woman calls who has just bought her insurance for a trip, and we are now onto the medical questionnaire as she has said, “Yes,” to having a pre-existing medical condition.)

Me: “Okay, can you tell me what medical conditions you have and what medication, if any, that you take for it?”

Customer: “Oh… I have a venereal disease.”

Me: “I need to know which one specifically.”

(The customer then proceeds to go into graphic detail about her illness, because she’s not quite sure which one it is.)

Me: *interrupting* “Madam! I’m not medically trained! I can’t diagnose what it is from your symptoms. I need to know the name of the illness.”

Customer: “Oh. I’m not sure.”

Me: “If you can’t find any paperwork, I suggest calling your doctor. If you take any medication, get them to confirm it, as well, and call back and give us your policy number. Once you have all the relevant information, we can continue the questionnaire.”

Customer: “Okay. Thanks for your help!”

(When the customer hung up I had to go and get some water as I felt queasy. Whatever she had, it was unpleasant, I can tell you that.)

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