Medical fun

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Kittyhawk

Established Member
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New Zealand
A lot of years ago I assisted a neighbour in yarding a mob of cattle for TB testing.
I recollect him as being a contemplative sort of man and as he surveyed his penned cows in typical farmer fashion, leaning his arms on the fence railing, one foot up on the bottom stile and chomping on a stalk of paspallum that he'd pulled up from somewhere, he began espousing the opinion that cows could be unpredictable at times with a principal governing modus operandi of desiring to cause the maximum amount of consternation and distress to the farmer with the minimal amount of inconvenience to itself.
This opinion became relevant to me shortly thereafter when one of the animals determined my position astern of her with precision and let fly with a hoof which caught me dead centre on my manly equipment, lifting me off the ground and propelling me several feet backward. 'Yep,' he said eyeing my prostrate form with interest and spitting out a wad of grass. 'That'll be Rosie. She does that now and then..'
I'm sorry if reading this brings tears to your eyes. At the time it did me as well.

And that's why I was recently sat in a surgeon's office listening to his explanation as to why the increasing levels of discomfort I was experiencing could be traced back to that earlier trauma, the resultant scar tissue from the injury restricting the blood flow to one testicle to the point where it had atrophied to the size of a peanut rattling around inside the scrotum. A condition, he said, known as a 'bell clapper.'
Well I know that my sense of humour is a bit off centre and I have the unfortunate tendency to burst out laughing at inappropriate moments and this bell clapper term was totally clutching the sides rolling around the floor in hysterical laughter material, made worse by the sight of the surgeon, an unsmiling po faced man impatiently tapping his desk top with a pencil and looking pointedly at his wall clock which in turn prompted me to even higher degrees of impropriety. 'No no, that's not your clock...that's just my testicles you can hear clanging..12 o'clock, ding dong ding dong...' Just then his nurse or secretary or whatever she was knocked and entered, presumably to see what all the fuss was about. 'Reschedule the patient's consult for after lunch,' he said to her. 'When he's more composed.'

So now a week later I'm in the recovery ward. The surgeon stopped by this morning with a gaggle of interns in tow. Pausing at my bed he gave them a brief resume of the original trauma, the resultant tissue degregation and an account of how on the preceding day he had performed open surgery to remove the testicle and repair other related damage within the abdominal cavity. Then, deigning to acknowledge my disreputable presence, 'and how are we today?' 'We are fine', I replied in my best imitation high pitched squeaky voice, 'but I can't speak for the one of us you chopped off..' This got a restrained chuckle from a couple of the students, quickly stifled by a frosty glare from the surgeon and with a 'harrumph' and a distasteful glance in my direction he and his retinue moved along. Some people just dont know how to get a laugh out of life.

Hopefully they will let me out pretty soon. In the meantime all I can do is lie here totally bored out of my brain with nothing to do which is why I'm writing this account - something to do to pass the time. And also to contemplate the great irony of the situation. Since the original mishap I have always subconsciously kept a cupped had on standby ready to protect my precious equipment against any perceived threat of injury or harm only to end up having to fork out somewhere around 11 grand for the dubious pleasure of having it cut off.
I'll get a laugh out of that as well but not today. It's a bit too sore for that just at the moment.
 
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I hope you're feeling better soon and that they at least have the courtesy to present you the removed body part, mounted for display purposes.
At an original cost of 11 grand, it can only become more valuable over time. Perhaps even a collector's item.
 
I hope you're feeling better soon and that they at least have the courtesy to present you the removed body part, mounted for display purposes.
At an original cost of 11 grand, it can only become more valuable over time. Perhaps even a collector's item.
Funnily enough, they did offer. I must have looked a bit shocked because they did add, somewhat sheepishly, that in this peculiar age we live in it is now mandatory to offer the return of all removed body parts.
What do they do with the bits that patients don't want?
They'll be round with dinner pretty soon so I won't dwell on that thought.
 
Sorry to hear it.

One of the organs I wouldn't want messed with!!
 
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Get well soon.
Worth chatting to the farmer and his insurance company?
 
A well written piece, brought a wince and a smile to my face, get well soon.
 
They do say nothing in life is free, whatever antics we get upto in our younger years will come back to haunt us and we will pay for ! You do think of backs and muscles rather than testicles though.
 
Yes, I agree with the above comment - a very well-written piece. Thanks Kittyhawk.

But apart from the obvious comments (note my restraint here please) I want to know how I can learn to read a piece of writing such as yours while grimacing AND giggling at the same time please?

Get well soon mate -"Gute Besserung"
 
Thanks for your good wishes for a speedy recovery. Home again now.
The 100k between hospital and home was not the most comfortable of rides and not helped by our car, a Peugeot 4008 being known for having a pretty firm suspension. But the child bride is a good and steady driver and I got quite adept at reading the lumps and bumps in the road ahead and lifting my nether regions off the seat at the appropriate times.
I realize that I have been a bit unfair in lampooning the surgeon the way I did in my original post. I blame all the stuff they were pumping into me.
Its true that he was a very serious and taciturn man and I was a bit suspicious of the very short time frame between first consult and surgery - normally months but in my case only a week. From his secretary I learned that he had bumped me up the list because I'm old but also fit and he figured that getting me repaired quickly would enable me to better enjoy whatever time remains. Very considerate of him.
So on discharge I went to thank him and to apologise for my raucous behaviour. He gave me his private number, told me to call any time if I had and concerns and offered me his hand. I'm not certain but it's possible there was a hint of a twinkle in his eye and perhaps even a ghost of a smile on his face but that could have been just my imagination.
Relating this to the wife on the way home she expressed the hope that I would be a bit more circumspect with my so called humour in future and added thoughtfully that if I was guilty of any further outbursts she wouldn't be able to call me 'nuts' any more - just a singular nut.
 
Absolute bravo to you maintaining your humour in such circumstances! All the very best to you.
 
I was going to call you nuts but that would be an exaggeration. Your wife beat me to it.

When you go bicycle riding don't slip off the peddle. You will invariably hit the one that remains.

Take care
Pete
 
After the first of my eight amputations I asked for my toe back, but my consultant told me they are not allowed to return any body parts due to health risks. I was going to put it in a bottle of vodka for my lad.
If I lost a leg, i always had the idea to preserve it, glue the foot end into a flipper and turn it into a Jaws inspired table lamp.
 
Good to hear from you.

I was away over the weekend so my reply is too late. Had you still been in and bored I was going to suggest borrowing a scalpel from a surgeon, getting a pencil or two from a ward administrator and passing the time whittling under-wing weaponry for your next model.

You might still be a bit limited. A few years back I had to spend 6 days in a single hospital room because of a radioactive plaque that has been sewn to the back of my eye to treat an internal melanoma. It worked, but oddly I felt completely fit throughout. I found podcasts and occasional music to be very good. I doubt you can access all of the BBC content outside the UK, but their archive is magnificent. I listened to years worth of letter from America, the weekly Alistair Cooke broadcast, and went through both Kennedy assassinations, Nixons impeachment and all sorts. Several full length plays, time to have Mahler 6 uninterrupted, lots.

(they gave me a general anaesthetic to put it in and take it out, which was good of them, and the physicist had calculated 5 days 22 hours for optimum effect. The only reason to stay in was some silly NRPB rule that says people with radioactive heads shouldn't walk the streets.)

Anyway, good quality spoken word podcasts are excellent,

Or you could whittle some replicas of the removed part and sell them to gullible e-bayers.
 
Ah cows, deeply stupid and stubborn creatures best left well alone. Glad to hear you are on the mend. Having the little chap pickled in a jar would certainly have been a talking point, "have I shown you my testicle?" Would certainly get rid of some unwanted visitors, wonder if it would work on Jehovas :unsure:
 
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