At the trauma center I used to work at, triage was usually short, sweet, and to the point. There was rarely in-depth examination, more so a quick glance-over, then tests (x-ray included), and then comes the more thorough examination.
On this specific day, I was running the "chest room" in the department (bet'cha can't guess what we x-ray in there). I had a patient come in wearing a TB (tuberculosis) precaution mask. His paperwork said that he was coughing up blood...so they had sent him straight to me for an x-ray to confirm the TB. I took the two views...one front to back and one side to side, and went out to develop the film.
When the first one came out, I saw a strange lucency that I couldn't quite make out. Then the second view came out...
...this moron had a SIX-INCH SERRATED KNIFE BLADE IN HIS CHEST. I immediately ran to the radiologist, who called the police (we have to do so for any stabbings or gunshot wounds). The radiologist went with me back into the room, where we had the man remove his shirt to expose a sucking chest wound in his back that had been covered-over with a Band-Aid.
After the cops arrived, we were able to piece together what happened to twit-boy. Turns out that he had robbed a woman that past Friday (this was on a Monday night). As he was leaving through her kitchen window, the woman caught him and stabbed him with a knife. Since it didn't kill him, he had a friend SAW OFF THE KNIFE HANDLE, and figured he'd just live with it for the rest of his life...much like shrapnel. Yeah...no. The cops were amazed he was still alive...they had given him up for dead after they lost the trail of blood that went for almost a quarter-mile.
Moral: If you get stabbed, it is not wise to leave the blade inside you. This is especially true if the blade is IN YOUR FREAKING CHEST.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Little Old Ladies
They are the best...really. I mean no disrespect to the geriatric populous, but these are a little too good to pass up.
1. I have a patient who has come in for a routine chest x-ray. Her paperwork states that she is 80 years old, so I don't bother asking her if she is pregnant. I get ready to start the exam, and the woman just goes berserk on me. She says I "should be ASHAMED" that I hadn't asked if the could be pregnant. Before I get a chance to explain that we don't ask for anyone over 60, she decides I really need to know EVERY aspect of her sex life and how hot it is. Dear God....the pain.
2. We had another lady who had taken a nasty fall (this happens a lot). She came to our department wearing only her panties and a hospital gown for a hip and pelvis x-ray.
Now, as you all know, anything metallic WILL SHOW UP on x-ray. I figured there was no need asking since...well, she was in her skivvies. How wrong I was. When the initial pelvic film dropped into the processor, we found that Granny had on a pair of Victoria's Secret panties that had the word "SEXY" spelled out on the butt in rhinestones. Once we got done laughing our asses off, we asked the woman to please lower her drawers so we could continue the exam.
3. Another patient came in by ambulance from the local nursing home...also after a fall. A pelvis x-ray showed that this poor woman had decided it necessary to TRULY safeguard her dentures. She had shoved them into her vagina and them safety-pinned her labia together. I can't make this stuff up, folks.
Moral: Age does not dictate behavior.
1. I have a patient who has come in for a routine chest x-ray. Her paperwork states that she is 80 years old, so I don't bother asking her if she is pregnant. I get ready to start the exam, and the woman just goes berserk on me. She says I "should be ASHAMED" that I hadn't asked if the could be pregnant. Before I get a chance to explain that we don't ask for anyone over 60, she decides I really need to know EVERY aspect of her sex life and how hot it is. Dear God....the pain.
2. We had another lady who had taken a nasty fall (this happens a lot). She came to our department wearing only her panties and a hospital gown for a hip and pelvis x-ray.
Now, as you all know, anything metallic WILL SHOW UP on x-ray. I figured there was no need asking since...well, she was in her skivvies. How wrong I was. When the initial pelvic film dropped into the processor, we found that Granny had on a pair of Victoria's Secret panties that had the word "SEXY" spelled out on the butt in rhinestones. Once we got done laughing our asses off, we asked the woman to please lower her drawers so we could continue the exam.
3. Another patient came in by ambulance from the local nursing home...also after a fall. A pelvis x-ray showed that this poor woman had decided it necessary to TRULY safeguard her dentures. She had shoved them into her vagina and them safety-pinned her labia together. I can't make this stuff up, folks.
Moral: Age does not dictate behavior.
Kinky...
So, some of us are just a little more freaky than others. Here are three cases in point:
1. While working in the O.R., I was called into another room by a scrub tech to "come see this." Upon entering the room, I saw a male under anesthesia with his legs up in the air and a crowd of gawkers looking under the drape between his legs. Turns out that he and his mistress (who was a dominatrix) got a little too far-gone during one of their sexcapades, and the woman had literally peeled the man's testicles. No lie. I wonder if he got his money back after that little mishap.
2. I was walking down the hall one day in trauma, and saw a naked man with a naked woman straddling him with her legs wrapped around his waist. It was the weekend in the E.R., and as amusing as this sight was, it wasn't too far out of the ordinary. So I went on my way. Come to find out later, the man had a Prince Albert, and his girlfriend had just gotten an IUD. Put the two together, and they get tangled. Yes folks, it does happen. It just took a lot of lube and many giggles to free the pair.
3. I'd been called to Ultrasound to assist a tech friend of mine do a gynecological exam. Since the tech was a male, a female had to be present to make sure things didn't get out of hand (yes, I'm female). I walk in the room to the most putrid odor imaginable, and an EASILY 400-pound woman laying on the exam table. The tech looked at me pleadingly and asked me to "hold her folds" so that he could access her...um..."area." I obliged...and the more I opened, the worse it smelled. The woman had come in complaining of pelvic pain, and as my tech friend inserted his ultrasound probe, he got the surprise of his life:
"Ma'am...what is in your vagina?"
*pause*
"Uhhh...it's a Summer Sausage, sir."
We later came to find out that "Junior," her boyfriend, was unable to please her because of her weight (imagine that). So, he decided to be creative and use a large stick of meat to do the job for him. Well, a large piece of it broke off, and Tiny decided it was a good idea to just leave it up in there. Wow.
Moral: Don't assume what goes on in the bedroom will stay in the bedroom.
1. While working in the O.R., I was called into another room by a scrub tech to "come see this." Upon entering the room, I saw a male under anesthesia with his legs up in the air and a crowd of gawkers looking under the drape between his legs. Turns out that he and his mistress (who was a dominatrix) got a little too far-gone during one of their sexcapades, and the woman had literally peeled the man's testicles. No lie. I wonder if he got his money back after that little mishap.
2. I was walking down the hall one day in trauma, and saw a naked man with a naked woman straddling him with her legs wrapped around his waist. It was the weekend in the E.R., and as amusing as this sight was, it wasn't too far out of the ordinary. So I went on my way. Come to find out later, the man had a Prince Albert, and his girlfriend had just gotten an IUD. Put the two together, and they get tangled. Yes folks, it does happen. It just took a lot of lube and many giggles to free the pair.
3. I'd been called to Ultrasound to assist a tech friend of mine do a gynecological exam. Since the tech was a male, a female had to be present to make sure things didn't get out of hand (yes, I'm female). I walk in the room to the most putrid odor imaginable, and an EASILY 400-pound woman laying on the exam table. The tech looked at me pleadingly and asked me to "hold her folds" so that he could access her...um..."area." I obliged...and the more I opened, the worse it smelled. The woman had come in complaining of pelvic pain, and as my tech friend inserted his ultrasound probe, he got the surprise of his life:
"Ma'am...what is in your vagina?"
*pause*
"Uhhh...it's a Summer Sausage, sir."
We later came to find out that "Junior," her boyfriend, was unable to please her because of her weight (imagine that). So, he decided to be creative and use a large stick of meat to do the job for him. Well, a large piece of it broke off, and Tiny decided it was a good idea to just leave it up in there. Wow.
Moral: Don't assume what goes on in the bedroom will stay in the bedroom.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Lost her Marbles
I used to eat lunch with the guys over in CT Scan...they were a funny bunch of dudes with as many interesting stories to tell as I had.
One day, trauma called...they were bringing over a woman who had been hit by a car. I was eating my sandwich when they brought her in. She was fairly mangled from the waist down. The trauma team carefully loaded her onto the CT bed; after which they came into the control booth, closed the door and started laughing.
I couldn't believe it. here's this poor woman fucked up six ways to Sunday, and these assholes are laughing at her.
When I found out why they were laughing, I joined in.
Turns out this woman was walking along the side of a major interstate...just for kicks, I suppose. EMS never found her car. So she's walking along, shoving marbles up her nose.
Yes, I said she was shoving marbles up her nose. Would I lie to you?
So, one of her marbles fell out of her nose and rolled into traffic. She ran after it, and KAPOW...she got nailed by the car...thus, she was brought to us.
We were still chuckling when the scout scan (initial scan used to plot the slices for the CT) came up. Not only was this woman's pelvis all sorts of messed up, but she had a MasterLock in her vagina. Yeah...those things they use on lockers.
Once we got done laughing at that, the docs went out into the CT room and informed the woman that she had a "foriegn object lodged in her vagina (as if she didn't know), and they would remove it before surgery." The gal had enough wits (?) about her to scream, "MOTHERFUCKER, YOU AIN'T TAKIN' MY SHIT!!!"
*insert blank stares here*
So, the docs trudge back to the control panel to deliberate. The woman, although not in her right mind, still had rights. The MasterLock was a metal object, inserted in the vagina of a post-menopausal woman, and wasn't causing any bodily harm. They decided that a three-doctor consent (needed for instances when the patient's will needs to be over-ruled) would never fly....
...so the woman left the hospital many months later...with her newly re-build pelvis and hips...and her MasterLock still in place.
Moral: If it's that important, don't shove it where the sun don't shine.
One day, trauma called...they were bringing over a woman who had been hit by a car. I was eating my sandwich when they brought her in. She was fairly mangled from the waist down. The trauma team carefully loaded her onto the CT bed; after which they came into the control booth, closed the door and started laughing.
I couldn't believe it. here's this poor woman fucked up six ways to Sunday, and these assholes are laughing at her.
When I found out why they were laughing, I joined in.
Turns out this woman was walking along the side of a major interstate...just for kicks, I suppose. EMS never found her car. So she's walking along, shoving marbles up her nose.
Yes, I said she was shoving marbles up her nose. Would I lie to you?
So, one of her marbles fell out of her nose and rolled into traffic. She ran after it, and KAPOW...she got nailed by the car...thus, she was brought to us.
We were still chuckling when the scout scan (initial scan used to plot the slices for the CT) came up. Not only was this woman's pelvis all sorts of messed up, but she had a MasterLock in her vagina. Yeah...those things they use on lockers.
Once we got done laughing at that, the docs went out into the CT room and informed the woman that she had a "foriegn object lodged in her vagina (as if she didn't know), and they would remove it before surgery." The gal had enough wits (?) about her to scream, "MOTHERFUCKER, YOU AIN'T TAKIN' MY SHIT!!!"
*insert blank stares here*
So, the docs trudge back to the control panel to deliberate. The woman, although not in her right mind, still had rights. The MasterLock was a metal object, inserted in the vagina of a post-menopausal woman, and wasn't causing any bodily harm. They decided that a three-doctor consent (needed for instances when the patient's will needs to be over-ruled) would never fly....
...so the woman left the hospital many months later...with her newly re-build pelvis and hips...and her MasterLock still in place.
Moral: If it's that important, don't shove it where the sun don't shine.
Oops.
This one tickles me to this day.
I was in trauma bay x-raying some unfortunate soul who had been in a car accident, when EMS brought a new patient into the bed next to me.
I nearly passed out when I saw that this man had a pencil rammed almost completely up his left nostril. The guy had been stuck in 5:00 rush hour traffic, driving his good ol 'pickup, when he thought it would be a good idea to pick his nose....
...with a pencil.
Things would have gone well, had he not been rear-ended by the person behind him; driving the pencil up into his skull.
We all found it amusing that no brain matter was involved in this (we figured he'd have to aim pretty well to hit brain in the first place), but the pencil was lodged in his frontal sinus...right in-between the eyebrows....and he needed surgery to remove the wood splinters, etc.
Thankfully, he was alright. As much of a gore hound as I am, I still don't like to see someone suffering.
I just wish I could have been there to hear the guy calling his boss/wife/etc. and explaining why he needed surgery.
Moral: Stick to your fingers when it's time to pick a winner.
I was in trauma bay x-raying some unfortunate soul who had been in a car accident, when EMS brought a new patient into the bed next to me.
I nearly passed out when I saw that this man had a pencil rammed almost completely up his left nostril. The guy had been stuck in 5:00 rush hour traffic, driving his good ol 'pickup, when he thought it would be a good idea to pick his nose....
...with a pencil.
Things would have gone well, had he not been rear-ended by the person behind him; driving the pencil up into his skull.
We all found it amusing that no brain matter was involved in this (we figured he'd have to aim pretty well to hit brain in the first place), but the pencil was lodged in his frontal sinus...right in-between the eyebrows....and he needed surgery to remove the wood splinters, etc.
Thankfully, he was alright. As much of a gore hound as I am, I still don't like to see someone suffering.
I just wish I could have been there to hear the guy calling his boss/wife/etc. and explaining why he needed surgery.
Moral: Stick to your fingers when it's time to pick a winner.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Sons of Bitches
Alas, not all my work is amusing. I see some sick shit from time to time. I can deal with a man who comes in flayed from asshole to Israel, but there's one thing I can't deal with:
Child Abuse.
Oh, how I hate it...and at my home base, it's all I ever saw. All the time...little kids coming in complaining of carious maladies, only to find that they are being abused.
Take note...childrens bones are made up mostly oif cartilage...which forms your ears and nose. It's pliable and very markable...much like the top of a drink you'd get at your local fast-food joint. If you push on it, it makes a mark. And we can find it. Every time.
I've seen kids come in complaining of an asthma attack only to find boot-prints on their shoulderblades. I've seen "falls" diagnosed as the twisting of a child's arm to where the bone splinter and strips (greenstick or spiral fracture). Here's some examples:
I had a small boy come in with an obvious deformity of the right humerus (upper arm bone), claiming he had fallen off a swing. I asked him where he landed when he fell, and he pointed to the mid-humeral area.
If you fall on one arm, you're going to hit the humeral head (shoulder) or the elbow. It's impossible to land mid-humerus.
So, I take the kid in and do one x-ray to confirm what I already knew to be true...a spiral fracture (caused by twisting) of the mid-shaft humerus.
Now, as a medical professional, I can't make a diagnoses...and can't treat a parent differently because of even the most EVIDENT cases of child abuse. This is hard to do.
I took the one pictuse to the radiologist, who then called the Department of Child and Family Services. I went back to find an irate and edgy mother and a small boy scared out of his mind. I played it off in saying that the radiologist was busy, and it would take a few moments to read the films. The Mom grabbed her sun by hus broken arm and said, "let's go." She started dragging him out of the room. I ran after her in a feeble attempt to stop her, only to be met halfway down the hall by the radiologist and some burly-ass security guards. The radioligist asks, "where are you going?" The motherturned and pointed at me and said, "the bitch grabbed my son's arm and broke it."
I saw stars and nearly passed out. It was the mother's word against mine. I was fucked. There was no way out of this one.
Fortunately, the radioloigst said, "well, that may be trueif you were here two weeks ago when the fracture occures." Amazingly, there was some minute bone growth that I had failed to notice in the initial x-ray that cleared my name...thank God.
The mother was charged with child abuse and the son was put into a foster home. I still remember hin craying when they took his Mom away...simply for the fact that he didn't know any better.
I firmly believe there is a special place in hell for people who hurt children. I only wish I could be there to watch them burn.
Moral: If you mess with a kid, we'll mess with you.
Child Abuse.
Oh, how I hate it...and at my home base, it's all I ever saw. All the time...little kids coming in complaining of carious maladies, only to find that they are being abused.
Take note...childrens bones are made up mostly oif cartilage...which forms your ears and nose. It's pliable and very markable...much like the top of a drink you'd get at your local fast-food joint. If you push on it, it makes a mark. And we can find it. Every time.
I've seen kids come in complaining of an asthma attack only to find boot-prints on their shoulderblades. I've seen "falls" diagnosed as the twisting of a child's arm to where the bone splinter and strips (greenstick or spiral fracture). Here's some examples:
I had a small boy come in with an obvious deformity of the right humerus (upper arm bone), claiming he had fallen off a swing. I asked him where he landed when he fell, and he pointed to the mid-humeral area.
If you fall on one arm, you're going to hit the humeral head (shoulder) or the elbow. It's impossible to land mid-humerus.
So, I take the kid in and do one x-ray to confirm what I already knew to be true...a spiral fracture (caused by twisting) of the mid-shaft humerus.
Now, as a medical professional, I can't make a diagnoses...and can't treat a parent differently because of even the most EVIDENT cases of child abuse. This is hard to do.
I took the one pictuse to the radiologist, who then called the Department of Child and Family Services. I went back to find an irate and edgy mother and a small boy scared out of his mind. I played it off in saying that the radiologist was busy, and it would take a few moments to read the films. The Mom grabbed her sun by hus broken arm and said, "let's go." She started dragging him out of the room. I ran after her in a feeble attempt to stop her, only to be met halfway down the hall by the radiologist and some burly-ass security guards. The radioligist asks, "where are you going?" The motherturned and pointed at me and said, "the bitch grabbed my son's arm and broke it."
I saw stars and nearly passed out. It was the mother's word against mine. I was fucked. There was no way out of this one.
Fortunately, the radioloigst said, "well, that may be trueif you were here two weeks ago when the fracture occures." Amazingly, there was some minute bone growth that I had failed to notice in the initial x-ray that cleared my name...thank God.
The mother was charged with child abuse and the son was put into a foster home. I still remember hin craying when they took his Mom away...simply for the fact that he didn't know any better.
I firmly believe there is a special place in hell for people who hurt children. I only wish I could be there to watch them burn.
Moral: If you mess with a kid, we'll mess with you.
Up The Chute
Expect many stories like this. I've seen people of all ages, genders, and orientations come in with the same complaint:
"I've got something stuck in my butt."
Better yet are the ones who come in complaining of stomach pains or constipation...like we aren't going to find what is hidden in their ass. Get with it, people...it's going to come out...literally...whether you like it or not. Here's a short list of things I've found on x-ray that people have crammed in their backside:
Lightbulb
Fish
Box of toothpate (with the mtellic "Crest" logo perfectly visible
Snake
A can of beans
Gerbils (the rumors are true)
Dildo
Vibrator
Coat hanger
Cucumber
Medicine bottle
Vase
Snake
Lamp
2-liter of soda filled with marbles
Pool balls
Inflatable bat
Zucchini
Summer squash
Flashlight
Spatula
Fork
Ah yes...the list goes on.
And as you may or may not know, x-rays are similar to pictures...if you take one of something that is moving, it's going to be blurry. We figures this out after having a Paul Sr. lookalike come in after a motocycle wreck with a vibrator up his ass...still turned on.
Moral: If you're gonna stick something up your arse, make suer you can get the fucker out.
"I've got something stuck in my butt."
Better yet are the ones who come in complaining of stomach pains or constipation...like we aren't going to find what is hidden in their ass. Get with it, people...it's going to come out...literally...whether you like it or not. Here's a short list of things I've found on x-ray that people have crammed in their backside:
Lightbulb
Fish
Box of toothpate (with the mtellic "Crest" logo perfectly visible
Snake
A can of beans
Gerbils (the rumors are true)
Dildo
Vibrator
Coat hanger
Cucumber
Medicine bottle
Vase
Snake
Lamp
2-liter of soda filled with marbles
Pool balls
Inflatable bat
Zucchini
Summer squash
Flashlight
Spatula
Fork
Ah yes...the list goes on.
And as you may or may not know, x-rays are similar to pictures...if you take one of something that is moving, it's going to be blurry. We figures this out after having a Paul Sr. lookalike come in after a motocycle wreck with a vibrator up his ass...still turned on.
Moral: If you're gonna stick something up your arse, make suer you can get the fucker out.
For the record...
...I feel this is necessary to say, since I'm schooling you on morons. It's something few people should be privy to, but I'm sharing it with you none the less.
If you're ever coming in for an x-ray, your technologist will ask you why you are there. They'll need a detailed recount of what happened that got you jacked up in the first place. Once you've said it, one of two things will happen.
1. The exam continues on as usual, with the tech taking the necessary pictures, and you go home (or back to the E.R.).
2. The tech says something along the lines of, "I need more film/supplies/etc." This means that they are looking for an excuse to leave the room so that they can laugh at you. And yes, they've probably laughed at you. Any good tech will know what exams are needed before they come and get you. Therefore, all films and supplies are already in the room. Any excuse to leave is an excuse to laugh at you. Believe me.
Moral: Tell the truth, but don't be surprised when we leave.
If you're ever coming in for an x-ray, your technologist will ask you why you are there. They'll need a detailed recount of what happened that got you jacked up in the first place. Once you've said it, one of two things will happen.
1. The exam continues on as usual, with the tech taking the necessary pictures, and you go home (or back to the E.R.).
2. The tech says something along the lines of, "I need more film/supplies/etc." This means that they are looking for an excuse to leave the room so that they can laugh at you. And yes, they've probably laughed at you. Any good tech will know what exams are needed before they come and get you. Therefore, all films and supplies are already in the room. Any excuse to leave is an excuse to laugh at you. Believe me.
Moral: Tell the truth, but don't be surprised when we leave.
The Weekend Warrior
I saw this at the second hospital I worked at...a good facility, but not as good as my home base. I tolerated it for its occasional trauma (I'm a gore hound).
A man walks into the triage center (ouch). He's no stranger to us. He's been in nearly every weekend for over a month. He's been trying to build something in his back yard, and has failed miserably...hence his numerous trips to the E.R.
Past trips have been made up of several failed attempts to win a war with his nail gun. The nails seem to go everywhere but where he wants them to be. Mainly in his body.
So he comes in yet again, and this time he's outdone himself.
He limps in...having nailed his hand to a board to his leg. I'll spell it out for you...he put a board on his leg, shot the nail gun through it, and made a sandwich of the board and his leg. Yep, another war lost.
X-ray showed that the nail was just slightly embedded in his femur (thigh bone), and would have to be removed surgically. His wife and daughter were there (I guess they drove him), and informed him that if he didn't quit his weekend projects, they were going to leave him.
We never saw him again.
Moral: Don't fuck with a nail gun.
A man walks into the triage center (ouch). He's no stranger to us. He's been in nearly every weekend for over a month. He's been trying to build something in his back yard, and has failed miserably...hence his numerous trips to the E.R.
Past trips have been made up of several failed attempts to win a war with his nail gun. The nails seem to go everywhere but where he wants them to be. Mainly in his body.
So he comes in yet again, and this time he's outdone himself.
He limps in...having nailed his hand to a board to his leg. I'll spell it out for you...he put a board on his leg, shot the nail gun through it, and made a sandwich of the board and his leg. Yep, another war lost.
X-ray showed that the nail was just slightly embedded in his femur (thigh bone), and would have to be removed surgically. His wife and daughter were there (I guess they drove him), and informed him that if he didn't quit his weekend projects, they were going to leave him.
We never saw him again.
Moral: Don't fuck with a nail gun.
The Prostitute
All of these stories have a moral. They may not be apparent at first, which is why I will put one at the end of each post. Why? Because...as aforementioned...90% of the human populus is brain dead. You may be part of that, and I want to save you future humiliation and/or bodily harm.
Let's start with the prostitute. It's pretty bad when you give "hooker" as your line of work in a medical questionnaire, but we can't all be angels...and it's good for a laugh.
So, here's this girl....an admitted prostitute, and one of my patients when I was rotating through Ultrasound She was in complaining of pelvic pain. Gee, I wonder why. So the poor kid undresses from the waist down for a vaginal/pelvic exam. For those of you who don't know (or are male), this exam consists of an external ultrasound for the pelvic area and all its organs, and an internal exam for a better view of the vaginal wall and reproductive organs.
The patient lies on the table and puts her feet up in the stirrups. Figuring that she has fibroids or something of the sort, the tech starts out doing the typical pelvic exam. About two minutes into the exam, the tech switches to the vaginal probe. I don't know how the fuck to read an ultrasound (and still don't...I find it dreadfully boring). About two seconds later, the tech leaves....dragging me with her. She says:
"There's something lodged in her vagina."
*blank stare*
"Is it a sex toy?"
"I don't' know...it's kind of small."
"Not all sex toys are huge..."
"Yeah, but...there's something odd. I'm going to go talk to the radiologist."
So I wait. And wait. And wait. A few moments later, the tech and the radiologist emerge and rush back into the room. I follow, expecting my diagnoses of a sex toy to be affirmed.
God, do I wish I'd have been right.
Upon further examination, it was found that this prostitute had stuffed a roll of $100 bills in her vagina to hide them from her pimp...and forgot about them.
This was about 3 months ago.
Needless to say, the bills were rather necrosed (aka. dead) and nasty from having ben in the vaginal canal of a prostitute...but they were easily removed with some forceps and a bit of lube.
Once they were out, the hooker wanted them back....and we had to give them to her.
Moral: Never put money in your mouth.
Let's start with the prostitute. It's pretty bad when you give "hooker" as your line of work in a medical questionnaire, but we can't all be angels...and it's good for a laugh.
So, here's this girl....an admitted prostitute, and one of my patients when I was rotating through Ultrasound She was in complaining of pelvic pain. Gee, I wonder why. So the poor kid undresses from the waist down for a vaginal/pelvic exam. For those of you who don't know (or are male), this exam consists of an external ultrasound for the pelvic area and all its organs, and an internal exam for a better view of the vaginal wall and reproductive organs.
The patient lies on the table and puts her feet up in the stirrups. Figuring that she has fibroids or something of the sort, the tech starts out doing the typical pelvic exam. About two minutes into the exam, the tech switches to the vaginal probe. I don't know how the fuck to read an ultrasound (and still don't...I find it dreadfully boring). About two seconds later, the tech leaves....dragging me with her. She says:
"There's something lodged in her vagina."
*blank stare*
"Is it a sex toy?"
"I don't' know...it's kind of small."
"Not all sex toys are huge..."
"Yeah, but...there's something odd. I'm going to go talk to the radiologist."
So I wait. And wait. And wait. A few moments later, the tech and the radiologist emerge and rush back into the room. I follow, expecting my diagnoses of a sex toy to be affirmed.
God, do I wish I'd have been right.
Upon further examination, it was found that this prostitute had stuffed a roll of $100 bills in her vagina to hide them from her pimp...and forgot about them.
This was about 3 months ago.
Needless to say, the bills were rather necrosed (aka. dead) and nasty from having ben in the vaginal canal of a prostitute...but they were easily removed with some forceps and a bit of lube.
Once they were out, the hooker wanted them back....and we had to give them to her.
Moral: Never put money in your mouth.
For starters...
...the main thing I have learned as an x-ray tech is that 90% of the human populus is inherently brain dead. We're not talking slight stupidity, mild-to-moderate stupidity, or even severely stupid...we're talking complete lack of common sense. In this blog, I want to touch on some of my patients (who will remina anonymous) and their trials which brought them to my table. I've been in the business eight years...I trained in one of the top trauma centers int he Southeast, so I've seen it all. Some of it hasn't been pretty. Some of it has been downright fucked up...okay, most of it has been downright fucked up. But when you're not on the receiving end of it, it's rather amusing. I hope to bring this amusement to you...and let it serve as a lesson that YES....YOU TOO can be part of the 90%.
It's a jacked-up job, but somebody's got to do it.
It's a jacked-up job, but somebody's got to do it.
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