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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
- In The Mailbox: 12.23.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll truly IS a sad, embittered psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- In The Mailbox: 07.18.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
Whoever did the photograph and cover of Mr. Phelps for Sports Illustrated and also whoever approved it really should apologize and then maybe find some other kind of job what can use their talents better.
It’s always darkest before it goes pitch black.
Oh , I haven’t seen that, HF. What’s wrong with it?
Oh. Ok. I wish he had some pants on.
Increasingly disillusioned, for real? Oh hey the WMA one is cut off at 30 seconds I think. You’re all about cutting things off lately. That sucks about that deal. Which means good tree did not make beautiful flower I guess. So much for that mantra.
He looks like some shortbus Hindu swim god or something I think. And the colors are campy.
I was listening to the wmv thingie – does it have beeps [maybe pops] for anyone else? Or was Jeff doing the cork-popping thing with his finger? reallyidunno
That was one depressing podcast, Jeff. I wish I could tell you something cheery, but people do suck. I’ve just decided that’s part of the human condition, and occasionally it even manifests itself in people who don’t, ordinarily, suck. I think all you can do when that happens is remind them that they don’t suck, normally, and that they really should stop.
Everyone else I expect to suck at any second, so most of the suckitude excursions have a minus sign on them. Everybody wins!
That cover is horrible, happy. Great observation on the Hindu swim god thing …
I was going to mention the shortbus issue but held back as I was ashamed of noticing FLK-megaly. (It must be all those pancakes with testosterone syrup. )
Better posts follow when you use that reporter guy advice – “cover the elephant”
I guess it does have a bollywood vibe.
I listened in quicktime without incident.
Jeff:
Bag of frozen peas. Or some other self-contained unit of cold stuff, like a bag of ice cubes.
OUCH!
That must hurt, Jeff.
But not as much as the day in second grade when some little twatwaffle slammed the door on my middle finger and cut the end off of it. They sewed it back on (it wasn’t quite “off, technically speaking. It was still barely attached). I have to laugh when I think of running through the cafeteria at lunch time, and shaking my hand as hard as I could trying to make it not hurt. I’m glad my lunch wasn’t anywhere in the area.
But, back to the point.
I would recommend 40 milligram Oxycontin. About four a day.
I take Vicodin (for RA), and once fogot them. My wife has RA in spades. So one night I forgot my pills, and asked to borrow one of hers. I was expecting a 5 milligram Percocet, but she gave me a 40 Oxycontin. Holy Shit!
It was two days before I could function as a human being again.
Let me tell you. I don’t ever again even want to see an Oxycontin.
But if you want to take an annoying surprise trip to La-La land, you now have the tools.
You just need to go out and kick some ass. You don’t need your finger for that, do you?
I’ve seen that happen, TLD. One Navy trip we took, 3 guys lost fingers to slamming doors and hatches getting caught on rings. Couldn’t sew ’em back on, though.
Getchyer one a these…
And, Jeff?
The best part of severing a finger tip is that when the winter comes, it is always feels like it’s frozen (your fingertip, that is).
Even with really good gloves on.
That digit must be a dangling modifier.
What?
It was my first math joke.
That Phelps cover was a knock off from Mark Spitz cover in ’72.
Spitz’s is much better.
But, only because he was sportin’ a John Holmes porn moustache.
Found it:
http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/2008olympics/2008/08/18/2008-08-18_recordsetting_michael_phelps_emulates_ma-2.html
SarahW gets first moustache ride.
Mark Spitz, had pants.
Phelps is way down on the hipbone, there.
LYBD – No thanks, you first.
I was around ten and I remember pants. He was the wholesome special guest star of my time.
Went halfway thru the tendon on my left hand’s middle finger when I was 17, Lost Dog. Still can’t flex the damn thing right…
I guess that’s 30 years of MSM pelvis-creep for you.
All the horrible finger injuries. I wonder if your sensory motor homunculous had to re-map. and now your remaining fingers have super-powers.
OK, the problem with Michael Phelps? His name doesn’t make a good punchline.
Q: How do they fill the Olympic swimming pool?
A: Mark Spitz.
See? That’s ever so clever. Phelps just conjures up the Westboro Baptist Church.
“LYBD – No thanks, you first.”
And cheat on John Bolton’s moustache?
No thank you, Madame.
I’ve broken a few and disclocated two (those are the fingers that never work right after), but partially severed?
Damn.
homunculus, rather.
Really, people, especially artists are out of ideas. Things just keep recycling through with a few updates to “pay homage” or “let in some air” or some other crapola.
Just admit it, you couldn’t think of anything else that hadn’t already been done so copied someone else.
And those colors are either really off, or my monitor is (and I’m not entirely sure it’s not my monitor, at least I hope it is).
…”and now your remaining fingers have super-powers.”
Cool. Like your own attached, magic Monkey’s Paw. Or maybe you can now flip off some jerk in traffic and your super finger makes them wreck.
“And those colors are either really off, or my monitor is”…
Your monitor is fine. You don’t recognize a People’s Republic of China flag backdrop when you see it?
“Went halfway thru the tendon on my left hand’s middle finger when I was 17, Lost Dog. Still can’t flex the damn thing right…”
JH,
Tendon damage sucks!
Tendons don’t repair themselves. I just nicked a tendon on my finger once, when I was replacing broken windows. They put a stitch in it, and I wore a splint for about a month. It wound up OK, but it scared the crap out of me to have a finger that refused to do what I told it. It’s weird when you stretch your fingers out, and one of them only comes up about halfway.
It’s especially hard picking a guitar when your right middle finger is in a splint. (Yup. Same finger).
Turned out all right, but thank God I only nicked it.
I have to admit thoug, I like Phelps’ shirt. It makes me want to see his breasts.
How long before some ding dong designer comes up with the ultra-trendy “Medal Ribbon Shirt”? Or would that be a “Phelps Shirt”?
Damn you, JH.
You made me check my fingers just now, and you’re right! The damn thing still doesn’t work right. I didn’t notice it before this because I never checked. It’s not as bad as when it happened, but it still won’t come all the way up. And it feels creepy when I try to force it.
Thanks for giving me one more thing to remind me of my unwelcome geezerdom. (No offense, Geezer)
Just kidding, but it did surprise me that my finger is defective.
Fucking tendons!
A counselor at the Youth Camp once had a railroad tie fall on his foot (we were building a terrace around a tent to control erosion away from the slab). He was given Tylenol 3 and was completely goofy for a couple of days. He was happy, but to have Gratson without something coherent to say was very odd, let me say.
Cut the tip of my finger off when I was in high school – trying to open a Coke bottle with a VERY sharp pocket knife. They sewed it back on and oddly enough one tiny piece actually took. The rest just turned black and eventually fell off.
I told my kids the injury was a result of a terrible nose-picking accident to see if I could scare them out of said behavior. No luck.
Anyway, hope you feel better soon. Call the dolphin and see if he’s got any of those blue pills left.
Ever notice how people always love to trade stories about hideous injuries? “See my scar? O yeh, that fkn hurt, lemmetellya” But I almost never hear ’em talk about their nasty sex habits. Except on the job – but you know, thats work and shit.
@ #38: Nasty sex habits? Admit it — you’ve met my first girlfriend, haven’t you?
Speaking of which, though, I used to know this tv movie critic who was gay [teh hell you say!] who would show up with these hideous black eyes and sometimes dislocated shoulders after going out to clubs. He never was like, “lemme tell ya how this happened” though.
Jeez, I dunno McG. How nasty was she?
Tylenol 3?
I say that Tylenol 3 is worth doodly-squat.
[tosses Jeff a small sack]
Now, them poultices be laced with feathermoss and mustard root. Mind you drop water on ’em occasional and keep ’em damp.
You’cun thank me when you see me again, Jeff Goldstein.
“But I almost never hear ‘em talk about their nasty sex habits.”
Ok, sex scars then (physical, not mental). Any of those?
“I used to know this tv movie critic who was gay [teh hell you say!] who would show up with these hideous black eyes and sometimes dislocated shoulders after going out to clubs.”
Well… If you’re queer AND you write a bad review for ‘Sex in the City,’ you’re probably gonna take a beatin’ at the gay club.
LYBD –
Any of those?
An observation, not a brag.
As for the rest – nope, I think he was just into that. But he wore makeup on the set, so nobody saw it, exactly. He eventually got canned for some reason or another….
Admittedly, I know some very odd people. I’m just an ordinary joe what’s rather tolerant of it.
“An observation, not a brag.”
No, no. Sorry. Didn’t mean that. I just meant, had you heard any good sex scar stories while employeed?
Ya know, like in that scene from Jaws…but from sex. They did it in ‘Chasing Amy.’**
**and it was about the only funny scene in the movie, actually.
Hey, LYBD, I didn’t take the Tylenol 3, Gratson did; and he got way goofier than he usually was. And he said his broken foot didn’t hurt.
So it had to have something really good in the kill-pain;-kill-the-brain line.
The only good one I experienced was whatever they gave me when they did that EKK and put the probe down my throat to check out my heart. One second I was in the lab/whatever, and the next I was back in bed. That stuff was good! Hours had passed without me knowing.
Tylenol 3 doesn’t work. Quick, somebody get me Rush’s beeper number.
Tylenol 3 does not kill pain. Not when I had a broken ankle, anyway. But it did make me shake and vomit.
Oh. Well, I basically look for people infected with whatever STDs and break the bad news to them, then try to find out who else I have to locate and inform, ad infinitum et cetera. This includes the anonymous sex weirdos in men’s toilets in the parks and highways, and y’know, hookers and strippers, so I guess you could say I’ve heard a few doozies.
Mostly its a medical thing. Worst I’ve heard of was a guy who liked to post offers on craigslist for men to come in and do him while he tied up and blindfolded alone in his apt. He liked the randomness and had some crazed Wiccan spirituality angle connected to it.
And you have injured probably the most nerve-endiest part of your body.
and it was about the only funny scene in the movie, actually.
I dunno… I thought this was funny.
And you have injured probably the most nerve-endiest part of your body.
I beg to differ.
Just for kicks, I’d like to answer his ad. Maybe I’d bring his mom with me, and she could bake him some cookies.
No no, SarahW is right about that, actually. Fingers are very nervy.
Pretty sure I have another body part that has more nerve endings than my fingers, urthshu.
What’s this talk about a Phelps picture?
I’ll be in my bunk.
See, now I’m a hater. I really feel like Mr. Craigslist Disease Vector @ #50 ought to be tossed in the jail if he can’t or won’t
restrain himselfregulate his urges.Present company excepted, of course.
…”I didn’t take the Tylenol 3, Gratson did”…
I don’t care how good he felt, you never go against Granny Hawkins’s poultices. Stuff’s like Cipro & Oxycontin in one.
On the EKK, sounds like you got a little muscle relaxer and a bit of morphine in your drip.
Good way to fly.
I think I mentioned the sensory motor homunculus once today already. The index finger gets a big chunk of brain devoted to processing of index finger information.
On the plus side, no one wanted to know where the donuts were this time.
Pain pills do little for me. Actually, they often made me throw up. Fuck ’em and have a drink instead.
If the pain is beyond tylenol’s reach, I need morphine. Or alcohol. Whichever I can get.
Phelps in his low sitting bathing suit is all in good fun.
I need proof of these alleged pants.
“Phelps in his low sitting bathing suit is all in good fun.”
Oh Really?
Look at his low sitting ‘bathing suit’ again, and imagine he didn’t shave.
@#58 –
Mr. Craigslist Disease Vector @ #50 ought to be tossed in the jail
It wasn’t exactly illegal, but it was a hell of a problem, I agree. Really felt kinda sad for him – he needed a shrink.
Anyway, prob’ly creeping folks out, so I’ll quit on that stuff.
You know, I found out a lot of people put their stitched fingers on Flickr.
And e-gullet has tons of you-had-to-be-there to believe all the blood stories. I had a friend once, an amateur and then professional chef (for awhile until he gave that up for math) who got a knife right through the foot. That was exciting, and I can believe the finger stories. Mem-o-reeeeees…..
And then there’s this. You might remember this one. (Link goes to hulu with a 30 sec commercial before the video)
If they can stuff Oscar Wilde in the pokey, I don’t see why Mr. Craigslist gets off scot-free with his vices. But, I’m a hater.
“I think I mentioned the sensory motor homunculus once today already. The index finger gets a big chunk of brain devoted to processing of index finger information.”
The “Corti Homunculi” is also medically referred to (from Latin) as ‘the little man inside the brain.’
For those of us with that pesky Y chromosome, the above quote ain’t talking about the index finger. Our ‘big chunk’ of Corti Homunculi is hardwired to something a bit farther south.
I was going to blow a big old raspberry on that no alcohol thing, pointing out that doctors ‘instructions’ can quite often be interpreted as ‘suggestions’ or ‘guidelines’, but I see you figured that out.
Now I don’t really have anything constructive to add, so allow me to jump right into the destructive.
That is the gayest SI cover ever!
I mean really, the boy looks like a lesbo belly dancer.
Possibly of east Indian descent, judging by the halter top. Though the lack of hair around the navel would present an argument against that.
Oh, and Jeff, this winter if your snowblower gets jammed up, for Gods sake, hire a homeless person to clean it for you!
Georgia?
No, wait. Florida.
Keep it elevated to minimize the swelling. Drop it low for long and that pulse throb pain is neat eh? I recall you tried the ibuprofen, for your ear, in the past. That might help here as well. Remember 3200mg per day max. I’d try 600-800 per dose if I were you; 4 times a day. A cold pack, placed just right, might help a little too if the hand is dilated and throbbing. Go for the wrist if you can’t tolerate the cold pack on the finger. It’ll cool the blood entering the finger. Avoid heat for now.
I suspect they advised you on some of this? Maybe not.
See if the doc will give you a script for Vicodin or Norco (less acetaminophen than vicodin). It does the trick for most when T3 fails. Percocet or Oxycontin should be overkill. I used Norco 10mg last November when I shattered my arm in to lots of fun pieces. But, pain is subjective. Your tolerance may be lower. As a fighter I wouldn’t think so though.
Oh yeah, the alcohol bit is CYA stuff. A few highballs (since it sounds like maragaritas are out), a T3 or two, and a drive around the neighborhood aren’t a good idea though. Once dialed in to your pain med routine a glass of wine is no big deal IMO though. They gotta say it though.
For example, UNWRAP and insert suppository rectally became standard fare when I worked retail; after hearing a story about a nasty rectal laceration by an elderly gentleman. Don’t even ask about the “jelly” products….. Somewhere, someone has done it.
The things we see in the ER nowadays. Heh.
Try and cheer up. Maybe focus on your kid and not all the other crap bringing you down. Your podcast was depressing.
Although, I’m one of the drive-by idiot posters here. So, my advice and comments might not be worth much.
Best wishes.
Best wishes to the remains of your digits Jeff, don’t worry about people sucking too much. It shouldn’t make you feel bad that you were trying to do some good things for other people, some shit just don’t work out.
also, booze.
“Mr. B’ totally sounds like a doctor.
And to think, the lefty-Reagan-haters didn’t want to send Marines to rescue those medical students in Greneda.
And now one of them is a doctor!
And driving by to save you.
You listen to Mr./ Dr. B and stay away from unwrapped suppositories.
“Percocet or Oxycontin should be overkill.”
For a half severed finger?
Keep driving Dr. Mengele.
“shortbus Hindu swim god” is so right on. I sais to my wife just the other day, “he’s good, but I really don’t get the whole ‘wow, look at his abs thing’, since he looks…well… kinda… I don’t mean to offend… but really… back in 1965 we’d ‘a called him retarded”.
I was sent to bed without supper.
I’ve jumped a straightedge twice, cutting my thumb to the bone. The first time, the razor knife went through my thumbnail cleaving it right down the middle. Gross? You bet. Painful? Fuckin-A. Both times, I went to one of those “doc in the box” joints, got stitches and then went back to finish the job I was doing. Not for the sake of pride, grit or whatever. Just cuz I had to finish to get paid. Fingers are a particularly shitty place to get cut. Lots of nerve endings.
Now the most painful thing was the time I was teaching my then 12 year old son how to swing a golf club and he came around with a 5 iron and dislocated my jaw. How I didn’t pass out I’ll never know. I figured my jaw was just swollen as funky shit so that was why I couldn’t open my mouth. Three days of intense, praying for death pain later, I realized my jaw was dislocated; so I drank a shitload of beer and then reset it. To this day, I cannot recall a better feeling than when I popped that fucker back into place. Like a day long orgasm.
@ #41:
Oh. You haven’t met her.
If you had, you wouldn’t need to ask.
wow. you are cool.
oh. sorry. ccoffer I mean with the knocking his own jaw back in place. You’re cool and all too McGehhee.
Hmmm. When I was 2 (so I’ve been told) I slammed my little finger in a door. The fingernail is split to this day.
When I was 10 I squished the fingertip adjacent to the previously mentioned finger, and wound up having to have it pulled off by a doctor. I was wishing he’d just go ahead and pull off the fingertip and get it over with.
The broken nose was worse, though. The first time. The second time it wasn’t the pain so much as the rivers of blood running down my face. But the sight — and my not being curled up on the ground in a fetal position — did take most of the fight out of the guy who broke it.
*McGehee*
…”it” being the fingernail, not the fingertip. Fingernail makes more sense with what I said.
As much as anything I say ever does.
Happyfeet is doubly cool, for recognizing my coolness and for spelling my name right even though he didn’t need to ’cause I knew who he meant.
@#18
I was carrying a really heavy piece of maple furniture once, me being the dummy walking backwards up a flight of brick steps. I tripped and dropped the sob, and it “bounced”, my left middle finger breaking it’s fall (in other words, the tip of my middle left finger got caught between the tip of the cabinet and the brick). I “avulsed” my finger … (hey, look it up on google images). 30 years later, come October and the first chill winds, it still hurts like a motherfucker.
Having looked up the definition, I’ll pass on looking up the image.
I’ve read Saddam’s noose nearly “avulsed” his head.
“wound up having to have it pulled off by a doctor.”
Did the doctor that pulled ‘it’ off tell you that?
Oh. Nevermind, you explained it.
Good thing you clarified, cuz otherwise you’d had a sweet lawsuit.
Mr. McGehee,
When it happened, I ran around in circles, holding my finger high in the air, and screamed like a girly man.
Whatever Saddam did … meh!
Pain don’t hurt.
err, Pain don’t hurt
Steph, if Saddam had done what you did, that would have been some kind of entertainment.
James, that clip reminds me of that Foster’s ad where the boulder lands on the guy.
Pain asymbolia is kind of cool to read about.
Basically Patrick Swyaze has brain damage.
I’m not particularly proud of being the guy who fixed his own dislocated jaw. I was between insurance providers and not very wealthy. I’m also sort of a quasi-masochist when it comes to enduring pain. I don’t self inflict, but I don’t do jack to alleviate it. Hell, I had elbow tendon reconstructive what the fuck ever a few weeks ago. They gave me a prescription for this bigass bottle of narcotics before the fact and told me to bring the shit with me when I had my surgery. I took one pill just after just because they told me to. It made me nauseous, so I didn’t take any more of them.
I really think pain is a personal thing. Some people feel it more than others, but it has dick shit to do with toughness or whatever. When something actually does hurt me, I whine like a little bitch. Its just that very little does. Kinda like a dumb animal I am.
His insular cortex registers pain, but it’s disconnected from parts of the limbic system that make pain “hurt” – he lacks the aversive emotional impact normal have to pain.
Woo ccoffer. Sometimes dislocated jaws that aren’t put back promptly get stuck that way.
Don’t date the man with brain damage, stapler doctor.
#90 heh.
Speaking of whining, Have any of you ever had to get stitches and have some maniacal she-goblin bitch break a tongue depressor in twain and proceed to shove the gnarly, splintery mother-effer into your wound to “test for nerve damage”? The second time I boned my thumb, I had that happen. The cunt was sternly saying,”Sit still!”, while she gets all Tony Perkins shower scene on my poor little thumb.
I don’t care much for pain. Screw it; I’ll take a pill if one’s available.
On dislocations…a friend was running the Ocoee, and on a class 4 rapid (table saw I think) a nasty boulder dislocated his shoulder. He got out of the river, and relocated that shoulder by slamming it up against a tree. Then back in his ‘yak to finish the course.
He finally got reconstructive surgery on that shoulder just last month, 5 years after the initial injury.
“Woo ccoffer. Sometimes dislocated jaws that aren’t put back promptly get stuck that way.
I looked like John McCain for about 36 hours ‘cept without the white hair. I was actually very proud of what a bad-ass I was back then, but now I realize I was just some juvenile more interested in being the best than in being the most valuable. I still dig pissing contests, but there has to be something of value there. Being the best at being the best for others is the best kind of best to be. And its ixpyallidoshus to boot. heehee
The kid who dislocated my jaw does the Ocoee in his kayak. He’s a daredevil, fear no evil kid. He does some crazy shit in that little plastic boat of his.
OMG, is Joanne Woodward a catch wrestler?
Mr B?
Mr B Natural?
Away, vile succubus!
In college, roommate Mikey was working construction and managed to chainsaw his kneecap. He phoned us from the hospital and got us to buy him a case of suds, as he knew the painkillers would wear off. We met him at the hospital in the pickup with the beers and went to a drive-in movie. Mikey got totally wasted with the beers and the painkillers, so we put him on the roof of the pickup so we could watch the movie from the bed of the truck without him puking on us or whatever. After the flick was over we started driving out of the lot, and I said to Jan, “Hey, where’s Mikey?†as he wasn’t in the cab with us. Jan hit the brakes, which wasn’t such a good idea, as Mikey landed on the hood, then bounced off and hit the dirt. We picked him up and put him in the back, he never made a sound and to this day he doesn’t know what complete bastards Jan and I were.
Unless he reads this.
“See, now I’m a hater. I really feel like Mr. Craigslist Disease Vector @ #50 ought to be tossed in the jail if he can’t or won’t restrain himself regulate his urges.”
Sarah,
Don’t be so hard on yourself. You just need to adjust your viewpoint a little.
This guy is obviously whacked, and I bet he is on the short list for the next edition of “The Darwin Awards” (and I do think the gene pool can do without him). It appears that he just doesn’t have the hair to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.
It reminds me of the Beatles song: “It Won’t Be Long”.
Jeff,
Within my earlier goofing around foolishness, there is a kernel of truth.
Vicodin is the way to go.
I’m not a doctor, but I think what they call “codeine” these days is actually codeine sulphate, and is meant to make you sick if you take enough to impact your pain. Most painkillers make me feel like shit, and don’t really help much with the pain. And they make me “high”.
As guilty as I felt when I started taking Vicodin (prescribed), it actually works without making me high. If anything, it gives you just a small edge. I live with a lot of pain, but everything that my doctor has tried (Oxycontin, percocet, fentanyl patches) has made me too high to function effectively, and very queasy on top of that.
Hydrocodone is the way to go, as far as I am concerned. As much as I goof around, I do not like to be high. Certain selected occasions, sure.
But not when it comes to dealing with my life. It’s tough enough when I’m sober!
Oh, and BTW Jeff,
Vicodin is not physically addictive. It can be somewhat uncomfortable when you stop, but it ain’t nothing like the real opiates, which, if you are addicted, can be life threatening when you stop.
Nice chat room
SHARK!
Or jellyfish.
Vicodin is not physically addictive.
But, but….
House is addicted! I saw it myself, season 2. Or 1. Something.
Yes it is
Apparently the gamma rays got to Miss Cleo.
Vicodins are all right, I guess, but I had a lot of trouble with regulating body temp. when I was taking them. Don’t much like painkillers, myself.
I went with alcohol. Worked much better.
Won’t be typing much today. Pub’s open, though.
Worst thing I ever did, pain-wise, came with zero stitches.
I went to open the garage door, when this huge bolt of pain struck my hand. It turned out that the doorjamb had this thick splinter cracking off of it, and that splinter went right under my thumbnail for a distance of about half an inch, and snapped off under the nail when I jerked my hand back.
The pain was enormous. It took me a little while to get calm enough to look at it and see what had happened. I couldn’t get any purchase at all on the splinter with anything hefty enough to pull it out (tweezers? Are you kidding me? This thing was maybe an eighth of an inch wide; there’s no way tweezers could even budge it), so I quickly realized that I was either going to have to endure a half-hour drive to the emergency room or a somewhat lesser duration to the local clinic, and possibly have to wait a half hour or more for service, followed by an even longer time before they actually started doing something, all the while enduring this GIGANTIC pain, or I was going to have to do some self-surgery.
So, I got out the Dremel, put in the little wood saw blade, and started cutting lengthwise through my thumbnail. I had to cut a few parallel swaths before I’d cleared enough to get some pliers on it, but after a few minutes of careful yet urgent cutting, I managed to get something grippy on it and extract it. Now, you’d expect that the original wound plus the cut thumbnail would be pretty painful, but that was NOTHING compared to the pain of having that splinter stuck in there. I could have gone bowling with the wounded thumb, and it wouldn’t have bothered me.
Funny what pain can do to you.
Worst long-term pain was when I lacerated my left elbow by tangenting the sidewalk at a rather high velocity. 23 stitches in the skin, about that many more down in the muscle. Oh, and a bone bruise so wicked that hitting my elbow on things over a year later had me wincing. The doc who scrubbed out my elbow (which he did sans anaesthesia; didn’t hurt at all) said that SHOULD have broken my arm just above the elbow. Maybe I’m just Unbreakable. Anyway, the pain didn’t start until after they’d sewn me up. It turns out that having tissue violently separated can confuse the nerves at first, but once things are sewed up? Ow. Holyshit, OW! Darvocet: it’s not just for breakfast, anymore. Still, a month later I was starting swim practice.
Listened to your mp4. I was wondering if you’d do a reading. Something from Celine, possibly, adding a little of Matthew Broderick’s nasal-full enunciation would be boss.
Ok, since we’re telling pain stories… morning after baby #3 (my sole c-section) I woke up, got up, walked around the floor, and announced to the nurse that I didn’t get all the hubbabaloo about the pain of sections. I felt great. At which point the nurse says:
Honey, you *do* know you’re on morphine right now?
No. I did not know that.
Are you making fun of my voice, thor?
No, not at all. Making fun of Matthew Broderick’s voice. If you’re wondering, you sound like an academician with similar pauses for thought as Barack Obama.
You have a pleasant voice and you sound “likable enough,” as Barack says.
If you’d record and post your class lectures, I’d listen.
Jeff sounds kinda like the American on Shire Network News, but with less nose.
Jeff sounds despondent. It feels like fall here and I am very happy and Other Guy is plotting to pile a bunch of stupid work on me but it’s ok because it feels like fall here and I am very happy.
“Stonewall” Jackson had a habit of keeping a finger elevated.
I mean above his head, pointing at heaven eleveted.
People thought he was….eccentric.
#117
Dremel Tools! Like an electric Swiss Army Knife.
Went over the high side and walked away without a scatch. Dropped the bike in a less than ten mph turn and screwed up my knee, hip and back.Plus a real nasty gravel rash.
@ #125: That’s the weird thing about getting hurt. I’ve read that when it’s a really big one, you have time to go limp before you hit, whereas with the little ones you’re still trying to stop it from happening when it happens.
#76 ccoffer:
I once partially dislocated my left shoulder cross country skiing. I went down a hill on the trail, hit ice and went tuckus over tea kettle. The walk out of the woods wasn’t fun, but back to the parking lot, puteverything in the car and then off to the hospital. Now the car was one of those escorts with the automatic shoulder belts. I sat back, hit the power and it came across and pulled my shoulder back into place.
The pain went down real fast, but still off to the emergency room at Grayling.
I haven’t read all the comments yet, but kill yourself over some bad potato salad and an Italian chick leaving you for Ellen Degeneres? I mean, if it were the jello mold and a French mime, I could see it.
#128 Dan:
That must have been a whole ship-load of desperate to do that!
I mean, you’ve had one Italian supermodel, so you should be able to get another. Right?
# 125 Rusty,
Bike? as in bicycle? I once totalled a toyota at about 40 coming around a corner where they just put in a new light (not new, but activated) Luckily, The bike kinda skipped over and my head and left calf did most of the damage. I just sat there picking pieces of white stuff out of my leg and PISSED that my new Bell helmet was smashed. Seriously, that car had no trunk left! Anyway, the car was crushed, my bike survived and I miss my calf…
Suddenly I have a craving for veal.
TOO funny McGehee. Truth is? I rode that bike another 2 years (Honda CB 750 F) And I miss the bike. Took a few years to rebuild the muscle,but the tendon was good, bone not so good. Live with that every day, to the point that sitting down every hour or so is a good thing.
I was really hoping that someone would riff on my head also crushing the trunk, but there ya go..
Carin’s story reminded me my anaesthetist stole my morhpine. Nobody knew it at the time, and he epidural wore off and they wouldn’t give me anything until I couldn’t form words anymore. Later there was a scandal with the drug addict anaesthetist.
“Stonewall†Jackson had a habit of keeping a finger elevated.
I mean above his head, pointing at heaven eleveted.
People thought he was….eccentric.
Wow, he was like my great great great great great great uncle. I shit you not. I was wondering where I got that stupid finger shit from.
yours/
peter.
Oops, forgot a great there. Seven greats.
urthshu #113
Yeah, I just said it wrong. But it is not life threatening to withdraw from Vicodin. It is very uncomfortable, but it won’t kill you. Unlike an oxycontin or percocet addiction, which can return you to room temperature.
I use it the way it’s prescribed, but many people eat these drugs by the handfull. But, hey. Even Sominex is not a great thing when eaten by the handfull.
But I do know that you can smoke all the bananas you want without becoming addicted.
Ya know, I don’t even think it can kill you. Heroin withdrawal just makes you sick as Hell, but it doesn’t kill you. Cocaine won’t either. And Vikes, Oxys etc are just opiate derivatives.
Now coming off alcohol addiction – that’ll kill you. You need medical supervision, mostly for valium and tissue hydration, electrolyte balance, etc.
My best bike accident was riding down a narrow road at about 25mph, being closely pursued by a little old lady in a Mercedes. I was edged all the way over to the edge of the pavement, which stopped abruptly on the right side of the solid white line, trying to get her to believe she could go around. I was riding sewups, so you can guess: the tire peeled off the rim because I rode a little TOO close to the edge, and I spilled over the handlebars right in front of a little old lady, on a very busy, narrow road.
Luckily she had the reflexes of a gnat; she stopped before I stopped sliding. No being run over by a two-ton automobile for me.
Which was fine, except for the square-foot-plus of roadrash. I couldn’t go back to work for a couple of days, until it scabbed over and stayed scabbed over. Again, though, I proved to be Unbreakable.
#130
No. A KZ1000. Needless to say. I don’t ride anymore.