Subourbon Mom


First Responders – Shit Got Real
May 13, 2020, 12:00 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Beware – this one is not for the squeamish
or the judgemental….

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Amid all the thank-yous and celebrations for our First Responders as the pandemic rages around the country, it’s important to remember that these extra acts of bravery and self-sacrifice are in addition to the normal stupid and often really gross stuff they have to deal with.

A friend of mine who is a firefighter submitted this to me and said I could use it.  (Hopefully, he or I will start another blog about the things they have to deal with – the funny, the gross and Darwinian selection in action.) So here goes – (reminder: this is not for the squeamish!):

I got sent to Station 4 for the medic unit.  A very nice medic named Christy (names have been changed, yadyadayada…) was my partner. We checked out all the equipment;  unfortunately, we never discussed a plan for The Secreting Poop Monster.

The Secreting Poop Monster was found passed out on the floor of a bus shelter.  Christy and I pull up, and “Stacie,” the officer at the scene, met us. 

“That guys smells like shit. That’s why I’m over here. Good luck,” she said. 

Christy and I go over and assess the Poop Monster. He is drunk and hypothermic, and has been laying on the wet floor of the bus shelter all night.  Poop is everywhere on the floor.  It is all over him – as plentiful as trash on Sunday morning after the Virginia Garlic Festival.  

At Christy’s suggestion, I paved the cot with two layers of blue absorbent napkins. Then I paved that layer with two more layers of bed sheets.  Together, Christy and I picked up the Poop Monster and laid him on the cot. He soaked through all the layers instantly. 

Christy yelled “Cover him up!”

I had the presence of mind to bring two more sheets and a blanket.  I instantly threw all three layers down over top of the patient, and Christy worked feverishly to tuck in both sides and his feet. Honestly – it was like trying to wrap a soaked car-washing sponge in a dry towel, and expecting the towel to absorb all the water from the sponge. Within seconds, brown stains began appearing on the TOPSIDE of the outside blanket that was covering him. 

Christy and I had both dressed in full Star Trek, Season Three science fiction outfits. We put the Poop Monster in the back of the medic unit and Christy yelled, “JUST GO! Priority One – Lights and sirens!”

Four minutes later we were unloading the Poop Monster at the hospital. That medic unit likely has a bent frame from me slamming over speed bumps at 50 mph.  We wheeled him into his room – and then, he topped 29.5 years of disgusting calls, including The Bug Lady of Station 5 who had a gangrenous, open toe, a bleeding sore on her chest, a prolapsed uterus and lice, which required me to take a shower in paint thinner.  

Christy and I had positioned the cot containing the Poop Monster along side the regular ER hospital bed. The plan was for the two of us to position ourselves on opposing sides of the cot, reach down into the lower abyss, grab hold of the leading edge of the bottom-most sheet on the cot, pick up and slide the Poop Monster over to the hospital bed.  

All was good. I had my side, and Christy had hers. We had agreed she was the point person and would give the orders. I was looking her straight in the eye across the cot, waiting for the “shift” command.  Suddenly, she gets this puzzled look on her face.  She pulled out her gloved hand, looked at her index finger in utter disbelief. 

In the most perfectly unruffled, even-tempered voice that I have ever heard, she said, “A maggot has just crawled from this man’s ass, and it is now wagging its little tail on my index finer.  Oh my God – what should I do?”

Sure enough, I looked across the cot and poor Christy was staring, fixated, at a white maggot.

“Drown it,” I said.  I grabbed her by the arm, dragging her over to the sink and washed her gloved hand with hot water.”

And that, gentle readers, is the kind of thing First Responders have to deal with during regular times – in addition to the pandemic crises they are being called on to handle as well.  The Poop Monster may have been an extreme case, but remember: First Responders take care of people from all walks of life, in all living conditions and with all kinds of ailments, mental and physical. They frequently put themselves in harm’s way so others can survive.  So the next time you get one of those solicitations from your local First Responders for donations, be generous and be kind.  Write that check and remember to give way on the road when you see them coming. Someday it could be you or your loved one.

Or, they could just be covered in shit.

Either way – be generous.

Be kind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



PSA – You Don’t Want Princess Leia Ears
October 22, 2019, 6:00 pm
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: , , , , ,

Like many middle-aged women I know,  I recently had to get yet another piece of my face removed because I used to lay out on the roof with tanning oil, sauteing myself for future meals made of  wrinkles and regrets.

This time, however, it was a basal-cell something or other, and not just a precursor to skin cancer.  And, since I’m vain and didn’t want my dermatologist to cut a Franstein-looking chunk out of my face in an effort that may or may not get it all, I opted for undergoing the MOH procedure. In the MOH procedure, the dermatologist/plastic surgeon numbs you up, cuts one layer at a time, bandages you, tests it to see if they got it all (this takes about 2 hours per slice), and repeats the process until they know it’s all gone.  This can potentially take all day.  It has something like a 99% removal success rate, and these surgeons also tend to leave less scarring.

The process for me was a one-shot deal – we didn’t have to repeat the excision, and it was pain-free. However, there were a couple of things I didn’t anticipate:

First, HOLY SHIT WAS IT EXPENSIVE!! Even with insurance…so investigate before you get your vanity on.

Second, I was the youngest person there by 30 years.  The only people my age were the ones helping out their parents for the day.  I felt like a toddler.

Third, it looked like a Leper colony had taken up residence in the waiting room. These folks didn’t just have a cute little bandage on the sides of their faces like I did.  The men had great, whopping bandages covering their ears, like old, weather-beaten Princess Leah drag queens.

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And/or they had giant bandages over their noses and on top of their heads. It was like sitting in the aftermath of the best geriatric bar brawl ever. (I’d post pictures but HIPPA frowns on that, so I didn’t take any.  You can Google it, but it’s pretty gross.)

And finally, I had no idea what getting your face stitched up feels like.  For the record, it’s weird, and I felt like I looked like Heath Ledger’s Joker afterward (it actually looked pretty good).  Since mine was by my ear on my jawline, the internal stitches were deep and right by the jaw hinge.  As the doctor was tying the internal stitches, it didn’t hurt, but I could feel her tugging hard – MY WHOLE FACE MOVED.

I finally had to say something: “You know that’s my face you’re pulling on, right?”  She replied, “Yep. It’s the face lift you never wanted.” To which I said, “Well, just make sure it’s even.” Afterward, I has to ask:  “So is that my future sitting out there? I’m not a big Princess Leah fan.”

“Oh honey, no,” she said. “Those are the guys who’ve had a bump on their nose or scabs on their ears for years, and finally decided it’s not a cut or a bug bite.  or their wives finally made them come in. You come in every year, so you’ll be fine.”

You can imagine my relief…so consider this your Public Service Announcement: Go to your dermatologist, even if you think you don’t need to.  Chances are you won’t need to have this procedure done, but let’s face it – not everyone can look as beautiful as Ingrid Bergman with a face bandage.

A Woman's Face 1

 

 

 

 

 

 



Great Business Ideas: Bringing the “O” to OBGYN

imagesEvery once in a while I have a great business idea, and if someone ever acts on them, just throw some of your millions my way to say thanks.

The other day I made my sort-of annual visit to the “girl doctor.” Now, I know that we all have to check our dignity at the door for that particular visit. my way of coping is to stare at the annoyingly cheerful pictures of kittens and tropical beaches taped to the ceiling, willing myself away to my happy place while they do whatever they have to do.

Which brings me to my question about OBGYN visits: With all of our medical knowledge and scientific advancements, why does visiting the OBGYN still have to be so awkward and uncomfortable?

Spas have heated massage tables – why must we lay on a cold, vinyl-covered table in a chilly room wearing a tissue paper “robe?” How about a heated table and some steamy towels instead?

And for that matter, since we end up waiting interminably for the doctor to arrive once we’re scantily clad, why not add cup holders and a minibar so we can relax a little bit? If they can add stirrups, they can add cup holders.

We have medicine to eliminate pain, repair skin and counteract venom. How have we not developed OBGYN instruments and examination rooms to make an awkward situation less…awkward?

So, while I was in the waiting room, I started Googling on my phone. For those of you that know me, this is NEVER A GOOD THING.

I learned that medical instrument sales and manufacturing is an estimated $133 billion industry. The sex toy industry, pre-Fifty Shades of Gray, was about $15 billion, and estimated to reach $52 billion by 2020. So how is it that these two industries have not gotten into bed together and made gynecological instruments that are more comfortable? To me, mating these products should be an obvious business decision.

The main tool that’s used looks (to me) pretty much like a curling iron with a light attached to the end. When I looked at the ones for sale (because for some reason you can just buy these on eBay – exactly who is buying this stuff?), they were all metal or acrylic. Why not make them out of the same latex-free materials that (I hear) are on sex toys? In fact, why stop there? Why not put a heater in there too? Our body temperature is 98.6 degrees – why on earth are we using instruments that feel like an icicle?

If these two industries could just swipe right and meet in the middle, I guaranty women would be more likely to come.

In fact, if all those crazy sex toys ads that clutter up our email are even remotely true, by using their technology OBGYN medical instrument manufacturers could change how women view going to that particular kind of doctor – in fact, they could revolutionize the industry. Preventative OBGYN medicine would become the norm as women no longer dreaded their visits, but actually looked forward to them. Disease rates would decline with early detection. Jobs would be created as new product lines are developed and manufacturing could return to the U.S.

So their you have it folks – how I would bring the “O” (I mean “occupations”, you gutter-minded people) back to the dreaded OBGYN visit.




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