Friday OT:Gross Me Out
- Thread starter SCyclone
- Start date
I flipped a 4 wheeler on a part of our farmyard that had pea gravel on it. My leg got trapped under the 4 wheeler and slid across the gravel. I can vividly remember the horrifying sound of the doctors scraping off pea gravel off that was engrained into my exposed knee cap with dull blade of some kind.
When I was a pre-teen, we lived in Cocoa Beach, FL, on a canal filled with brackish water that had been dredged out of a mangrove swamp. They cut the trees down, but left the root systems below the water level. Because of the salt level in the water, the roots became encrusted with barnacles. We could see them just below the normal water line, and knew to avoid them. One summer, heavy rain (might have been a low grade hurricane) raised the level of water in the canals by more than a foot. After the rain passed, we went swimming. I did a flat dive, but forgot about a mangrove root which was now about a foot below the surface. I passed over it, and thought I was okay. I swam back to the seawall, and as I was standing in the water, I felt tickling on my thighs. I looked down, and minnows were feeding off the blood streaming from my thighs. I basically shredded them in ribbons. My mother rushed me to the doctor, who (damn his eyes) used gentian violet as a disinfectant, and bound my legs from groin to just above the knee. He couldn't stitch the larger cuts because there wasn't enough skin to pull together. I wasn't supposed to sit or walk or anything else for about a week...I had to stay laying down, except when I went to the bathroom, to keep the cuts from opening back up.
Here's the fun thing about gentian violet. It's a dye. A deep, purple dye. I not only had scars on my thighs, it took nearly five years for all of the color to fade away. And this was in the era of mini-skirts. 50 years later, you can still see a handful of the deepest scars on my upper thighs.
Here's the fun thing about gentian violet. It's a dye. A deep, purple dye. I not only had scars on my thighs, it took nearly five years for all of the color to fade away. And this was in the era of mini-skirts. 50 years later, you can still see a handful of the deepest scars on my upper thighs.
Had the same thing happen with a northern. He flopped as I was trying to get my favorite jointed husky jerk out of his mouth. Ended up with a hook buried in the top of my right hand while the fish flopped around on the other hook. Eventually I got the fish unhooked and had to stick the barb of the hook back out of the skin to cut the barb and finally get the hook out. Fished for another 3 hours after that.
I was going to rank you for posting this in the thread, but then I realized that you DID gross me out after all. Well done.
I just used "friendly" for these - I didn't think "like" or any other response would have been appropriate.
And KC, that's one helluva story!
And KC, that's one helluva story!
The old pampered chef slicer did more than potatoes one night! Cleanly cut off the top 1/4" of my index finger. Yelled at the wife, "I see an ER visit in the immediate future!!" Waiting in the room, all of the sudden the lights got really bright and a cold clammy feeling came over me and I was starting to see stars. Laid back on the table as the dish cloth on my finger was saturated with blood. All the Doc did was put a tube of super glue on it. It pretty much grew back, but has a big flat spot still and it must have cut the nerve endings as I have no feeling in it.
In college I was cutting tomatoes at work and I cut the tip of my index finger off. I had to go in because it wouldn't stop bleeding. The doc bandaged it up and told me when to take the bandage off. Damn her, by the time it was time to take off it had bonded completely into the bandage. Ripping that off was much more painful than the initial cut.
My brothers when young kids were climbing a tree and the branch one of my brothers was on broke. He fell and impaled himself on a steel fence post through his back. My other brother had to lift him off the fence post. He had to go to the ER but miraculously he managed to miss all of his vital organs. Doc said he was less than an inch from puncturing a lung. I remember the scar being absolutely huge when I was a kid, but it isn't that big on my fat brother now. 
I was playing on our acreage when I was about 6. I fell down in a ditch where there was a huge ball of rusty barbed wire. I totally shredded my cheeks and mouth. My sisters told me to run to the house and I started not being able to see from all of the blood. My dad drove me and my mom the 16 miles to the hospital in about 10 minutes (1967 four door Thunderbird) with me choking on blood the whole way. Our general practitioner stitched me up at the hospital. It had cut completely through my cheek in a couple of spots. I don't remember how many stitches I got but it was a lot. My mom had watched them stitch up my brother (fence post above) but she just about passed out when they were stitching up my face. I was lucky to have no nerve damage and the scars are hardly noticeable now. Wearing a beard probably helps, though.
Holy crap!! You are spot on there! I cut the bandage after as my wife was tired of me yelling obscenities. I ran my finger under some warm water and ended up pulling the gauze off slowly with only praising the Lord a few times.
When I first looked at that GIF, my stomach muscles clenched involuntarily.
Good God, man. Your early life sounds like a horror movie! I would think your Mom would have forbidden you guys to go outside after awhile.
Really, it's proof that some in the fishing community will go to great lengths to prolong the peace and quiet.
I likely needed stitches on my finger but that would have required stopping fishing, going somewhere, and talking to people. No thanks.
My brother hooked a 45" musky (THINK: northern's pissed-off big brother) on the dock and dragged it onto shore. He went to take the lure out of the fish's mouth and ended up with a treble hook buried in the fat part of his thumb. So he tried with the other hand and got another one stuck in the back of his index finger on the other hand. 
So my Dad brought the wire cutter and cut both hooks. They freed the fish and returned it to the water, and then Dad drove my brother to the doctor for stitches.
Can you imagine having fish hooks buried in each hand, attached to a 30 pound pissed off fish flopping all over?
So my Dad brought the wire cutter and cut both hooks. They freed the fish and returned it to the water, and then Dad drove my brother to the doctor for stitches.
Can you imagine having fish hooks buried in each hand, attached to a 30 pound pissed off fish flopping all over?
