Tag Archives: ER

And I bid you Adieu!

It has been a few months since I have posted, well, anything. There is a good reason for this and let me splain youse…

I moved to DC with a hierarchy of goals in mind and at the top of my list graduate school. So, pulled the trigger and moved. Made to the Deez C and hit the ground running. I have now been in the town for a few months and embarked on the psychotic journey that I call my life. I now work 40 hours a week at a job where I do not have internet or the ability to communicate with the outside world, needless to say, I will be finding a new job. I am also taking 3 graduate courses, to include weekend classes as well. Yes, my life is a bit off the chain right now. As I type this my roommates are moving out and I have to find a new joint closer to the city, as well as finding a new car due to the Wolverine incident.

Just JP

I started this blog as a way to keep writing, so not to lose any edge while waiting for classes to begin. Now that I am balls deep in school, I am going to cut this space loose. I enjoyed having an outlet and a place that I can rant, rave, and basically let me be me. I have met some awesome people through this blog and some crazy ass people too. It all comes with the territory I guess. All in all I would not trade it, nor would I do anything different.

JP

I feel this blog was only one side of myself, the nonsensical side, and I am glad that you dropped by to share in it. I would like to leave you with these parting words:

This will be my last confession,
Liberty can leave harsh impressions,
I have little faith forgive me for my past discretions,
But we live and learn that history and past are lessons,
Ive always played the hand I was given,
No exceptions here humanitys driven,
You see all men are born equal, just the standard of living,
That differs between the Jewish, Adriatic and Christian,
Im a logical man given to science,
Forgive me I know religion inspires,The day this is work the love of it dies, A handful make it, the others will strive,
And hunger can drive hatred but such is just life,
I guess jealousys the curse that the struggle inspires,
These critics seek to break and divide,
I know Im bitter but my faith is divine,
Take it in stride yeah I act like I hate it at times,
But I found love through this music and a place to reside,
For every friend I have an eager opponent,
For every cent I spent on meager components,
I gave something back so I dont feel the need for atonement,
Cause we all get our hands dirty when were seizing the moment.

Again, thanks for coming by for the past year or so! Be sure to keep up with me on Twitter, JustJPTweet, so you can keep up with my insanity. If you see me on the streets, just say hi to a guy named JP.
For all the ladies heartbroken and seeking a male perspective on things, check out my friends:

Don’t forget to check out everyone else too!

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Filed under Booze, Foxy Friday, Friends, Life, Non-Sense

Pour one out for your hommies

Unfortunately, this post is appropriately titled. I received some bad news today about a friend of mine that died while lobster diving. Early news says it was a pulmonary embolism, which can, well, wreck your day. This hit me pretty hard and I am feeling uneasy about  this as this is my 3rd friend just this year. I have a very strange and weird relationship with death and no longer ask “why?”

Yoni- Knew this guy from high school and we used to surf together. Cool dude. Tattoo artist and had 2 kids and a wife he very much loved. I never knew he had issues, until I got the call that he threw himself off a bridge. How did I feel? Indifferent and sad. Sad that he went out that way. Not because he was dead, just because he had so much potential ahead of him.

Adam- A guy I grew up with. Surfed with. Worked with. Killed on his motorcycle when hit by a drunk driver. He was 25. Just started his own business and had a great girlfriend. I got a call from our former boss to tell me the news. How did I feel? Disbelief and anger. Angry that this woman pulled out in front of him and took him out. He was just getting going.

Shane- I’ve known Shane for about 8 years. He was a fellow firefighter for the city I worked in and he was my preceptor when I did my rotations during EMS/Fire school. I also worked with his wife on the night shift in the ER. In fact, I remember when they started dating and when they got married. I wish I could be half the man Shane was. I got the text message at work. In fact I was chatting with a friend when it rolled though. How do I feel? Really upset. A strange sadness has hit me.

Why would this death be different? Simple, the fire and emergency services community is like a gang. You cannot get out. Even if someone in that gang hates you, if you are in trouble, they would step up to help. Shane’s wife and I worked almost the same shift for 7 years. In fact we worked so well together, that we always made sure we were together, especially when we were assigned to trauma or “fast track.” We knew what needed to be done and we always had each others back. We were not BFF, but we were down. The kind of down that no words needed to be spoken. She was a constant supporter of anything I did, giving me words of encouragement. She also would break my balls if I stepped out of line and had no problem telling me what was up.

How does this relate to Shane? Simple, my friend fiercely loved him. The woman that had my back for 7 years is now in pain and I can do nothing about it. The medical examiner will not let her see his body. She is in pain and I feel for her. For once, all I can offer my friend is the same generic condolences we offered our patients… it kills me! I am getting to a point in my life where I am seriously thinking about my future in every possible way. What if my wife was taken from me, I wouldn’t want generic “I am sorry’s.” Plus, from day one in school you are told you will die. To die in service and with your brothers in the most honorable thing you can ever do. If you happen to make it to retirement, you will probably die from something you picked up during your term of service; cancer, mesothelioma, hepatitis, anything. Your death would be honored. To be taken out by a PE, that is tough one to take. It hits you with no consolation prize. No epic saga of your deeds. Robbed.

I do however, find it interesting that even though I have been away for 2 years, I still get the messages. My friends who are hurting, like me, reach out to those who will always be there as a support system. I haven’t talked to her in 2 years, but it doesn’t matter. Our professional relationship is a deeply rooted personal one. In that enviroment, the two are not seperate. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, where do we go from here. I want to let it out and move on. Though, it won’t happen now, it will happen when I am at the services and every fire fighter in the county is there. Dressed in their Class A’s as the bagpipes come down the isle. You want to see an entire room of grown men, fire fighters, cry? Just watch and listen as amazing grace is played through the pipes. That scares the shit out of me. Those tones are all too familiar. It is my mortal fear. Just to know that in the Fir Na Tine tradition, the pipes call our brother home. Below is a traditional send off. The way Shane and all other firefighters of honor get sent off. I could only be so lucky to have the pipes lead me home one day.

A wife has lost a husband. Community has lost a saint. A friend will weep for all.

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Downer Dude

Much like the dreaded Debbie Downer, Downer Dude may bring the general mood of things down a few notches, but things need to be said. The other day I was reading an awesome post by Franco Beans about the Michael Jackson death and the world-wide mourning process. F.B. said, “If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.  There are a lot of people who don’t and I understand that.” I agree with him, because I am one who does not understand.

I come from a very different perspective than most, in fact my outlook is a very “gallows humor” approach. I have been trained to be detached from death and very often laugh at it, because if you don’t it will take you down. The day MJ died, I received several text messages from people who know me extremely well, such as my Sister. The messages read, “Did you hear Michael Jackson is dead?” Me, “Why do I care about the death of an alleged pedophile?” Now, this could be perceived as a hostile statement, but what I was really trying to say is everyone dies and your status is no different. I realize he was acquitted, but I still will never let it go. Any grown man that slept in a bed with other peoples kid’s is suspect.

Why did I fixate on this accusation? Because the only thing that gallows humor cannot protect you from is the death of a child. Unfortunately, I have seen and have been greatly affected by the many tragic deaths of kids; one huge contributing factor of me leaving the trauma center, as it was starting to really affect me in a very negative way. I have pumped on the chest of a 23 y/o male who was struck by lightening, and many, many teenage car accident victims, without flinching. The whole time cracking jokes. A 2 y/o that drowned or was accidentally smothered in their sleep? That will absolutely wreck you.

So why can I differentiate between child death and other death? Simple, it has to do with your innocence value system. At what realistic point do you consider innocence lost? Is their a definable cut-off? The answer for me is yes. When one can make and be held responsible for their actions. My line is around 14 or 15  when the desensitization sets in for me. How does this tie in with MJ? Simple, anyone who challenges the innocence of the defenseless, in my opinion, deserves what they get, regardless of their “iconic status,” because at this point, in my opinion, they are irreputable scum. This does not just apply to children, Michael Vick and those defenseless dogs, had me off the reservation angry. All because they couldn’t fend for themselves.

The second issue I have is the general public and the media that feeds their frenzy. Seriously people, MJ was your life? You are lost without him? When was the last time you two hung out and broke bread, aside from that Halloween in the Hills, where everyone was dressed like him? This is not something new. I remember when Kurt Cobain offed himself and they had a suicide hot-line open for his fans that could not cope with the loss of Kurt. Bradley Nowell, Pac, Biggie and many others have had similar demise followings. I. Don’t. Get. This. At. All.

I will mourn my family, friends, and those who lost their lives through no fault of their own. Military, Fire-fighters, and to lesser extent Police Officers, who are out their trying to retain innocence will get my respect and admiration. Hell, I have told my friends and family if they get cremated, I would incorporate their ashes into tattoo ink, so I can carry them with me forever. I am not completely soulless, just very detached. This is why when I watch the news and see people melting down over someone they never met or had a symbiotic relationship with, I don’t get it. I know music and entertainment is fully incorporated into our lives something fierce; however, it doesn’t mean it IS our life.

Yes, everyone should mourn the dead in their own way. Mourning a death, tragic or not, of someone you do not know, I can dig it. Though, if you are on t.v. telling everyone “you will be lost without him” or “he was my life” I am fairly sure you are a candidate for a restraining order at some point in your life. Seriously, the last time we heard from the man was 2001 with his release of Invincible, which is kind of ironic.

This entire post has the intentional tone and hue of cynicism for a reason; that’s just the way I am. My distanced approach to things of this matter, have cost me many things such as sleep, relationships, and the faith that people are genuinely good without question. I agree 100% with Franco Beans, that this man did things for entire groups of people that no one can fathom and I will not take that from him. In fact MTV, Hip-Hop, and various forms of other entertainment just would not exist; though racial boundaries still might.

I guess my conclusion of a somewhat cohesive post would have to be, that I just don’t get or understand people on such a base level. Either my experiences have stolen that from me or they protect me from such connection. I have never understood why people still dress up and believe Elvis is god, nor have I understood an obsessive fan that cries out that they are lost without said person. In my mind, to cherish a performer, or to revert back to the image you have of them, it is far easier to listen to their music and or watch them on film. This would allow one to revert back to the period in time when they were on their game.

Yes, we should remember them for their good, but never forget their bad.

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The things I do for friends

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

One night my Sis, Da House, his girlfriend and I went out. Total disregard for anyone’ s health we drank our faces off. Well, the problem with this line up is that Da House’s girl was hanging out with 3 very seasoned individuals in the art of the power hour. Sure enough, 1 am rolls around and the binge session began, not that it ever really stopped mind you. We all pay up and break forth to Da House’s homestead.

Upon arrival to the honey comb hideout, Da House’s girlfriend made an ominous announcement, “I am Drunk!” I replied with something along the lines of, “glad you’ve been paying attention”. Then 5 minutes later things go a bit too quiet. You know the quiet I am talking about, where the really loud drunk just sort of disappears. Well, Da House went looking for her and was successful. My Sis and I where sitting on the couch debating about something when I hear this, “Dude, can you come to the bathroom for a minute?” I proceed to the facilities, but as I approach the door I hear this, “Dude, umm before you open the door, I just want you to know you are one of my good friends and I kind of need help with something.” Last time I heard that, things did not go well.

I slowly open the door and stick my head in, but no one was home. Look down, oh there you are, with a naked girlfriend. Hmm, what is that smell, did she, umm. What? Dude, what is that smell. Then I heard, “dude, she is really wasted and she shit herself!” Oh, hell! What a great friend, get me (guy who passes out) to deal with poo. Strong work buddy, remind me to send you an extra special x-mas card this year. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of, I called my Sis over as a witness. We pow-wow a moment and decide that she may need to go to the hospital. Da House informs me she is not quite 21 and we are all accessories to the crime at hand. Hrmmm. What would a medic do in this situation? Oh, right I’m a medic.

I did what we (medics) have done for years, I phoned a friend for supplies. While on the blower I described my dilemma and heard the following from my good friend who was the attending physician on duty that night, “Bro, you better not bring a drunk shitty girl into my ER, we will not be friends. You can pop a line in her and bring her back from the brink. Swing by and I will have things ready for you.” Done! My Sis and I did a drive by in the ambulance bay and picked up the necessary supplies and rolled back the the honey comb hide out.

By the time we got back Da House cleaned her up and got her to bed. I explained the situation and what needed to be done to avoid any unnecessary charges to his credit card via the ER. Plus, I told him what my buddy said, he laughed. So, time to play capt’n save-a-hoe and pop in an I.V. I explain to her that she should not move while I shove a garden hose into her vein, she agreed and said that she needed it. I.V. successfully placed, threats of death would precede any movement on her part. When a liter was pumped in, her color had returned and she said she felt way better.

Next day, follow up phone call to Da House:

Me- Everything cool?

DH- Yeah, actually she was up and making me breakfast. Hell I should have had an I.V.

Me- Does she remember the unpleasantness?

DH- Nope. Says she never felt the I.V.

Me- No, the unpleasantness of her shitting herself?

DH- No, but she will when I make her clean the bathroom this morning, lol!

Me- Nice. You owe me one.

That was the time I saw my friends girlfriend naked and covered in her own shit, while being the good guy and saving them a trip to the ER.

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Things that make me go ewww

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

Now, here’s a little story I gots to tell about 3 bad brothers ya know so well… Wait, wrong channel.

Welcome to another edition of TMI, tales of the ER. In this episode, JP hits the floor.

I have been reading a lot of poop related TMI posts and the majority of which are from women. In which they go on to tell us they shite themselves. I am slightly disturbed by this because I do not handle poop very well, nor do I handle girls shitting themselves either. At this point you may ask, JP how do you know you are bothered by women shitting themselves? Simple, so this one time at band camp in the ER I came to work and was greeted with a surprise.

I had just come in to my usual shift in an ER that was all of 10 beds, where my friend K (who was really hot) was waiting for me. This always made me suspicious. She went on to tell me that she needed help taking an overdose patient up to ICU, because I had big strong muscles; I am a total sucker for ego inflation. As we were getting ready to take this smoking hot girl who tried to end it with Tylenol, up to ICU, I began to read the chart.

—Quick side note. If you choose to kill yourself with pills, you may succeed. However, overdosing on Tylenol is a horrible way to go. It shuts down you liver and it takes several days to die, if you even do die. Usually, those that use Tylenol end up having to be on dialysis the rest of their lives, thus putting them in a more miserable position than they started off with.—

So, as I am reading I stumble upon the catalyst for the chain of events about to happen. It read, “given 100 grams activated charcoal.” In itself this stuff is really cool and one of my favorite drugs to give. Basically, the carbon binds to toxins. The cool thing about this stuff if it tastes horrible and you have to drink it. When someone is done drinking it it leaves their entire mouth jet black, teeth and all. They always smile after drinking it, as if it was a relief to be through with it. The major down side, sorbitol. Sorbitol is used in sweeteners, rocket fuel, and of course the reason for my look of fear this particular evening, laxative!

This stuff is not your average laxative, it is a sleeper. No discomfort, just about one hour later, pure colonic blowout. As if your colon is cruising down the Hershey highway and has a blow out at 80 mph’s causing it to go careening over the edge of “hold it in” cliff. There is nothing a person can do other than run. Run like the fuzz is coming to give you 99 to life. This particular patient was incompasitated and her bowls were going 100mph’s.

I set the chart down, unlock the bed, and get ready to make my charge towards the elevator when I heard K say, “Oh shit, JP, we have shit. Quick a get a towel!” Me, “get a towel?” I had a gob smacked look written all over my Chevy Chase at this point. Springing to action I grabbed towels and other necessary supplies and come to K’s aid like a knight in shining armor. Then it happened. I saw my kryptonite oozing out of this chick like someone had struck oil. Seriously, charcoal + sorbitol = an ass oil feild. The Exxon Valdez didn’t do as much damage as this 115 lb girl did.

Then something odd happened, something that has never happened to me, ever! I started feeling a bit light on my feet. How you say, a bit peckish. K looks right at me and asks, “dude are you okay? You look a bit, umm, white.” The last thing I remember, I was saying, “naw I’m cool.” Apparently I was not cool and my tan skin turned ghost white, while I braced myself up against the wall. This is the same wall that I decided would get the honor and privilege of having JP pass out on.

Thats right, the site and smell combination of this oil slick shit caused me to pass the fuck out, right at the beginning of my shift. This is a very odd phenomenon, because I had a reputation of being able to tolerate anything, seriously, anything. My weakness was exposed. To be honest I was only out for 5-10 seconds. I was woken by the sound of laughter from my associates, who thought it was the funniest thing they have seen.

After this incident poop smell has triggered a strange reflex in my brain. If I get the smell/sight combination in my brain, I feel my knees begin to buckle. Rotting flesh, puke, blood, or burn trauma I’m your man. Someone that shits themselves and I become as useless as tits on a bull. To this day, that moment of weakness lives on. Any time someone had a poop patient, they would page me. Yea, we were a loving bunch.

So ladies, for the sake of JP, quit shitting yourselves, its just not cool. Next week I may tell about the time my buddy’s girlfriend passed out drunk and shit herself and they called me to the rescue. HA!

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Ring Toss

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Another ER edition of TMI Thursday…

I had a crazy busy shift on a Friday night one summer. I had a guy walk in with an Ice Pick (in Florida) sticking out of his gut. Telling me he fell on while working on his truck. Yea, it was like that. He was my first patient and kind of set the tone for the rest of the night. Luckily one of my good friends Dr. M was working and was always up for a good joke.

Couple of trauma patients and a few I have a boo boo people and of some drug seekers, well we were do for a good laugh. Then around 11pm the ER gods answered our “we need a funny case” call. 17 year old male presents with pain in his abdomen, no trauma, walk in. Read the chart and in the medications column it read “Viagra.” They bring the kid back and make him change into a gown. I am the first one to see the guy.

I walk into the room and he is sitting in a weird Indian style position. Told him to lay back and tell me the problem. The thing is once he laid back I saw the problem. Homeboy had pitched a tent! So, I told him the doc would be back with him shortly. Walked over to Dr. M and said, “dude, you have a  camper in fast-track.” He of course looked at me as if I was deranged. Goes into see the patient, 5 minutes later comes out looking like he was going to explode with laughter. I asked him, “bro how could a 17 y/o with a raging hard on be so funny.” Then he told me.

“JP it’s not the hard on that is funny, its what he did with his hard on that is making me laugh.”  Okay spill it! This is an abridged transcript of my conversation with Dr. M:

Dr. M: Dude he stuck his wang in a bottle.

JP: So?

Dr.M: It’s now stuck on him.

JP: What do you mean “it’s stuck on him?” Like a leech?

Dr.M: No you dick. His Johnson was stuck in a bottle.

JP: Well, how are we going to get the genie out of the bottle?

Dr. M: Well that’s the thing, he broke the bottle and now the rim is stuck around the shaft.

JP: You’re fuckin with me.

Dr.M: No dude. This kid stuck his Viagra hard on into a beer bottle, so he could get off around 6. Then when it got stuck and couldn’t pull it off, the dumb-ass broke the bottle. So, he told his mom and she brought him here.

JP: Let me see the chart. (examine chart) No way! That is too funny. Well why don’t I just go get a hammer and break the damn thing?

Dr.M: Can’t glass shards.

JP: Call the surgeon let him deal with it.

Dr.M: He would never talk to us again. Why don’t we put KY on it and try to pull it off.

JP: That is probably the gayest thing you have ever said to me. Okay, but you are jerking the kid off, not me.

Dr. M: You’re right. What if we scare him?

JP: Do you still carry a picture of your ex-wife?

Dr.M: Nope, but I have one of your mom!

JP: Nice burn. I guess we could dope him up with valium and wait.

Dr.M: I’m not wasting good drugs on this asshole. Plus, he is turning a healthy shade of purple.

JP: Okay, umbilical tape from the nursery ought to do the trick. Like a ring stuck on the finger. It will just take a few minutes and it has to hurt like hell.

Dr.M: Good call. Lets do it.

I obtained the tape (which is more like sterile dental floss than tape) and hit on a few of the Ob nurses while there. Come back and explain to the kid what had to be done. he asked if it was going to hurt and of course I told him, “not as much as have a piece of broken glass stuck on your cock.” By this point in time I rounded up as many people as I could. My two EMS Students and one really hot nursing student; that is a story for later. We all crowded in the room for a “teaching session.” The lecture topic of the night, “Misadventures in medication:Why Viagra and glass bottles don’t mix.”

BTW: this kids mom thought all of this was hysterical and had to leave the room because she was laughing so damn hard.

Eventually the taping maneuver worked and the glass was taken off. Though the humiliation didn’t  stop there. As I was wrapping up my lecture and the procedure, I ended it on this note. Looking directly at the patient I said, “Okay, so today we have learned a few things. Don’t take meds not intended for you. Don’t stick your penis into anywhere it doesn’t belong. More importantly, we have learned that it would have probably been cheaper and less painful to pick up a hooker. Even if she is skank and you get VD, you would still get more respect for screwing her; rather than having your mom laugh at you for screwing a bottle.”

p.s. The kid took it all in stride and was actually pretty mellow. Lesson learned the hard way!

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Treasures of the Deep

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

This week’s edition is Treasures of the Deep… Time to go fishing:

Let me paint the scene. It was a Sunday night and I was working in the ER as I did every weekend; working 3 days and getting paid for 5 is awesome! It was slow, I mean really slow. I think I had all of 7 patients from 7-2. Dead! My friend and I ended up playing chest tube baseball for a while (Chest tube and tape ball. Think stick ball) and chilled out for a bit. Then I get a call from triage and it went something like this, “JP, I have a patient for you. I don’t trust him and think he is lying. He will be low maintainence but I think you guys will have fun figuring him out.”

Now, when you get a call from triage it means one of two things. Something bad is going to happen or someone is bored and is fucking with you. This story is about the latter. I get a male 4oish, complaining about stomach pain secondary to vigorous activity. Seriously, the chart said vigorous. The activity was sex with his girlfriend. Oh, and he did not want us to contact his wife, who was listed as his emergency contact. After about 5 minutes of talking with the guy, I figured out something was missing in his story. His complaint did not match his physical symptoms. So, being the bored as hell proactive employee that I was, I sent him for a x-ray of his abdomen.

I moved from the slums of downtown to a smaller community hospital that had just upgraded to instant return films, meaning everything was done via intranet. So, a girl I was hooking up with the radiologist tech called me laughing and said, “dude, pull up your patient on the computer. It’s that good!” There it was in all of its glory, a 13 inch dildo with a monster vibrator motor! The power of on-line x-ray’s allows you to see all the working components and measure the object, all with one click of the mouse. She brings my patient back to the room and I go in and ask with a straight face, “I saw your film and everything looks fine. However, there was one thing. Either you have the worst case of cancer I have ever seen, or you have a 13 inch dildo in your ass. Is there something you should tell me before I call the surgeon?” They guy replies, “yea, don’t call my wife.”

Off to call the Surgeon! Man did he think it was funny to be woken up at 3:30 am to come remove the dildo out of some guy’s ass. Might I add, the Surgeon on call was like a 70 year old Marine, been in every war since Korea, kind of Surgeon. He was not pleased (we played the count how many times he said fuck on the phone game). He instructed us to give pain meds and prep for Surgery, in case needed. Side note: If you give pain meds, the patient cannot sign the release form, only the valid spouse or significant other can. This really pissed off the girl friend at the bed side, cause we kind of called the wife to sign the forms. I didn’t the really bored nurses did.

So, there we were, wife patient, girlfriend, and one pissed off Surgeon. The girls were asked to leave so we could “discuss” the procedure. This is how the discussion went:

Surgeon, “You know today is Sunday. Not only is it Sunday, but it is 4 am Sunday morning. Did you know it’s the Lord’s day?”

Patient, “whaa?”

Surgeon, “JP, he doesn’t need surgery, but we need to extract this damn thing. Only homo’s shove things up their ass, are you a homo boy?”

Patient, “No sir, my girl…”

Surgeon, “I don’t care!” To JP, “get me my gloves and KY.” To Patient, “Turn over and get on your knee’s”

Kids, I shit you not this is what happened next…

rectal_exam1

I gave the Surgeon all of the requested materials and while he was putting on his gloves the patient turned over and stuck his ass in the air. Just as the full moon shined, Dr. Demento went to work. Out of no where, the doc shoved, yes I said shoved, his entire hand and entire forearm up this dudes ass, as if he was trying to molest a muppet. Imagine a 70 year old man with a hand so far up a dudes ass, that as the guy was screaming it looked like he was making the guy talk.

people_13So, you would think the story ends here…Nope! What happened next still bugs me to this day. The Surgeon was done rummaging around rectum land, and kicks open the trash can. Rips his arm out of the dude’s ass and throws the 13 inch dildo in the trash. As it hits the bottom of the can, the entire can starts to shake. No shit, the dildo was still on with what had to be fresh batteries in it, because the can was shaking. Yes, folks, my patient had an active dildo vibrating in his ass for hours! And what does any self respecting person do in a case like this? You guessed it,  send picture of a 13 inch Black dildo to everyone and their mama’s cell phone.

Lesson here kiddies… When cheating on your significant other, do not shove a 13 inch dildo up your ass and go to the ER. They say always wear clean underwear cause you never know where you might end up. I say, keep your colon clean because you never know who might end up looking, in your end.

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