Manly scars and wounds
Discussion
i have no impressive physical scars but have a gammy left ring finger.
during my earlier years i used to rollerblade, doing flips and grinding hand rails all that rad stuff,
cue a meeting with a post while travelling backwards, in attempt to save my face on the way to the floor i put out my hands, but wasnt quick enough and landed with all my weight on my fingers in a vertical position to the ground.
my left ring finger to the major blow and it forced the top of the finger to crush into the knuckle, shortining it by a good cm or so. unfortunately by the time got to the hospital it had set pretty hard and as well as a doctor who iirc (was a few years back) didnt seem to care that much, i was in a lot of pain when they were essentially trying to yank it back into position similar to trying to pull a very stubborn drawer, the doctor kept pulling and pulling but it was causing so much pain i asked him to stop, he seemed to go in a huff and said ok and just walked off, never to be seen again. i wasnt being an arse about it, i was just in so much pain and said stop as i thought i was going to pass out from the pain, cant really remember much else from the hospital, i think a nurse strapped it up and put it on a splint and that was it.
i now still have a massive lump in the middle of my finger where the 2 bones have mated, and if i straighten my entire left hand, all my fingers go straight except one which points up then down in a funny shape. doesnt cause any pain or so just wont completely straighten, i look it as a marrige defence system, no way could you get a wedding ring over it, and if you did once over the bump it would just flail around.
during my earlier years i used to rollerblade, doing flips and grinding hand rails all that rad stuff,
cue a meeting with a post while travelling backwards, in attempt to save my face on the way to the floor i put out my hands, but wasnt quick enough and landed with all my weight on my fingers in a vertical position to the ground.
my left ring finger to the major blow and it forced the top of the finger to crush into the knuckle, shortining it by a good cm or so. unfortunately by the time got to the hospital it had set pretty hard and as well as a doctor who iirc (was a few years back) didnt seem to care that much, i was in a lot of pain when they were essentially trying to yank it back into position similar to trying to pull a very stubborn drawer, the doctor kept pulling and pulling but it was causing so much pain i asked him to stop, he seemed to go in a huff and said ok and just walked off, never to be seen again. i wasnt being an arse about it, i was just in so much pain and said stop as i thought i was going to pass out from the pain, cant really remember much else from the hospital, i think a nurse strapped it up and put it on a splint and that was it.
i now still have a massive lump in the middle of my finger where the 2 bones have mated, and if i straighten my entire left hand, all my fingers go straight except one which points up then down in a funny shape. doesnt cause any pain or so just wont completely straighten, i look it as a marrige defence system, no way could you get a wedding ring over it, and if you did once over the bump it would just flail around.
Edited by paulwoof on Friday 1st March 18:24
Shamelessly recycled from a similar thread.
While putting a new subframe on my Mini, I realised that the box that the subframe had come in wouldn't fit in my bin. I was hacking it apart with a big knife to get it to slim down, after a while I nipped out for a fag. Worried I'd step on the knife when I got back in if I left it on the floor, I wedged the knife between my worktop and dishwasher, sharp side out. To this day I have no idea why I decided to do something as stupid as that.
On the way back in I got distracted by my phone and as I went to sit down to resume destroying this box, I walked straight into the b
d knife. Between a mount and a bit of flesh there was nowhere else it would have gone. Cue a trip to A&E and 18 stitches, even 10 months on I still haven't got all the feeling back.
You know those movies where you see blood squirting out of torn arteries? It's real.
The scar looks quite tasty now. No I'm not wearing a vest top.
While putting a new subframe on my Mini, I realised that the box that the subframe had come in wouldn't fit in my bin. I was hacking it apart with a big knife to get it to slim down, after a while I nipped out for a fag. Worried I'd step on the knife when I got back in if I left it on the floor, I wedged the knife between my worktop and dishwasher, sharp side out. To this day I have no idea why I decided to do something as stupid as that.
On the way back in I got distracted by my phone and as I went to sit down to resume destroying this box, I walked straight into the b
d knife. Between a mount and a bit of flesh there was nowhere else it would have gone. Cue a trip to A&E and 18 stitches, even 10 months on I still haven't got all the feeling back.You know those movies where you see blood squirting out of torn arteries? It's real.
The scar looks quite tasty now. No I'm not wearing a vest top.
I've got a good 4" manly scar running from the right corner of my mouth across to my right ear.
Face first through a car windscreen at 14 years old.
Two years later the surgeon redid it with a nice "zorro" zigzag.
Also a nice 6" scar on my gut about 2" right of my naval.
Coked intestines at 3 days old. You can still count the stitches 54 years later
Face first through a car windscreen at 14 years old.
Two years later the surgeon redid it with a nice "zorro" zigzag.
Also a nice 6" scar on my gut about 2" right of my naval.
Coked intestines at 3 days old. You can still count the stitches 54 years later
sebhaque said:
Shamelessly recycled from a similar thread.
While putting a new subframe on my Mini, I realised that the box that the subframe had come in wouldn't fit in my bin. I was hacking it apart with a big knife to get it to slim down, after a while I nipped out for a fag. Worried I'd step on the knife when I got back in if I left it on the floor, I wedged the knife between my worktop and dishwasher, sharp side out. To this day I have no idea why I decided to do something as stupid as that.
On the way back in I got distracted by my phone and as I went to sit down to resume destroying this box, I walked straight into the bd knife. Between a mount and a bit of flesh there was nowhere else it would have gone. Cue a trip to A&E and 18 stitches, even 10 months on I still haven't got all the feeling back.
You know those movies where you see blood squirting out of torn arteries? It's real.
The scar looks quite tasty now. No I'm not wearing a vest top.
I love that you didn't miss the opportunity for a photo shoot. Cool. While putting a new subframe on my Mini, I realised that the box that the subframe had come in wouldn't fit in my bin. I was hacking it apart with a big knife to get it to slim down, after a while I nipped out for a fag. Worried I'd step on the knife when I got back in if I left it on the floor, I wedged the knife between my worktop and dishwasher, sharp side out. To this day I have no idea why I decided to do something as stupid as that.
On the way back in I got distracted by my phone and as I went to sit down to resume destroying this box, I walked straight into the b
d knife. Between a mount and a bit of flesh there was nowhere else it would have gone. Cue a trip to A&E and 18 stitches, even 10 months on I still haven't got all the feeling back.You know those movies where you see blood squirting out of torn arteries? It's real.
The scar looks quite tasty now. No I'm not wearing a vest top.
My funky bionic man pics
Spot the mistake in this pic....
Thats a dynamic hip screw into an unreamed nail, which was later replaced with an ISKD nail to rectify the mistake, that was taken out last year, still have the lower nail.
And a damn good job of a skin graft by some very talented surgeons (with a few screw holes)
All the result of wrapping a car round a tree, 15 mins from having the lower leg amputated.
Spot the mistake in this pic....
Thats a dynamic hip screw into an unreamed nail, which was later replaced with an ISKD nail to rectify the mistake, that was taken out last year, still have the lower nail.
And a damn good job of a skin graft by some very talented surgeons (with a few screw holes)
All the result of wrapping a car round a tree, 15 mins from having the lower leg amputated.
Edited by mattius on Saturday 2nd March 19:02
I have a 5mm scar on my groin! .....doesn't sound like much but considering I've had key hole brain surgery 3 times front there I think it counts! Had a brain haemorrhage around 6 years ago which very nearly killed me, extremely lucky and incredibly great full to be alive and in the condition I am
Before the catastrophic accident that left me fighting for my life, I used to read Motorsport & other magazines/websites about accidents that drivers had had and think about it as something that his heroic & “superstar” like…think Barry Sheen that I read about tonight while preparing dinner - two crashes that nearly ended his life : one at 130mph and the other at Silverstone at over 170mph - we’ve all seen the X-rays of that crash and have looked at them in wonder, but no “real” understanding that what it would be like to have had that happen to you.
Well on Thursday/Early hours of Friday 16/17th August 2012 I got to find out what it’s like to feel that.
I was a passenger in a car crash that resulted in me tearing both my bowel & intestine, breaking my back (both a wedge and burst fracture of my L5 vertebrae) and a “bulls-eye” head strike on the windscreen (despite wearing a seatbelt).
Bad injuries. Life threatening injuries. If I’d lay by the road, where the driver had pulled me out of the wreckage and left me, I’d have been dead within a few hours.
As I lay there, I started to come round after some time (or at least realise I hadn’t died - I had the full on slow motion move towards an intensive light and then the drag back into what felt like “life”), I really did think that I was in a lot of trouble; no feeling in my mid-section, terrible feeling of massive G-Force in my stomach and a general shock feeling that this was not going to end in me getting up and walking out of hospital after a check-up.
Within what felt like a few minutes, a paramedic arrived and took no time in cutting my clothes off and started putting lines into my left arm as well as a healthy dose of Morphine, as the spinal board and all of the spinal stabilising equipment was put around me, I really did think that things were not going too well.
The Ambulance ride to the Royal London went within a blink - I’d spoken to the police officers (only barely) and told them where I lived - my wife would be worried where I was - and please get her to me as soon as they could - a swift ride into the A&E department followed. Given what I’d been through I remember little of what happened in the time after that, but I now know that I’d had a CAT scan, which had show the internal bleeding and broken back.
My wife had arrived at some point during the CAT scan and I had a chance to hold her hand and look into her eyes - I knew things weren’t looking too well for me - it was a terrible moment when I was told that I had to have surgery (all very calmly done to be fair) and then I had to say goodbye to Mrs Duggan - it all felt very “it’ll be ok” until I looked down to the end of the trolley and saw a nurse with a tear in her eye.
Breathing down the anaesthetic came very easy - I’d never been under the knife before and I strangely thought that if I didn’t breath it all in, I’d be anesthetised, but still able to feel the surgery. As I started to lose consciousness again I really did have a feeling of “st - is this it?” It’s something very difficult to describe to anyone who has never been that close to death. Given I’d had a terrible accident and had at least a hour after it to contemplate life/what had happened to me, it wasn’t “life flashing before your eyes”, it was more of regret - life was about to come to an end.
I had a 5hr laparoscopy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laparotomy), during which they basically opened me up from my groin to rib-cage and then scooped all internal organs out, repaired the damage and then put them back in & sewed me back up. Waking up from the anaesthesia was like entering hell - I came to in the trauma ward, with a chap next to me who had had both his legs amputated above the knees and was screaming in pain and thrashing around his bed - to be honest I couldn’t believe I was still alive.
I was transferred to my own room in the Royal London and given around the clock care. I’d had the Laparoscopy early on Friday morning and by Friday night I was again in a terrible situation - the surgery meant that my internal organs had freezed - the body produces over 2.5ltrs of bile a day and it couldn’t move - I ended up vomiting over 48hrs in a constant 30mins on/30mins off pattern - involuntary stomach clenching when you vomit & the movement it caused to my splintered spine, combined with a vertical 8 inch fresh scar (the opening they’d taken all of my guts out from) down my abdomen, made for pain like you can never describe to people or even imagine.
On Sunday afternoon one of the surgeons came over and told me I’d also broken my back.
Overnight from Sunday to the Monday morning I genuinely though I was going mad, due to the lack of sleep, horrendous pain & vomiting. I had an intravenous Morphine drip, but I still was in a world of pain. As I only just got through the night I was told that I’d be having an MRI scan at 8am on Monday morning.
Feeling like I’d lost the will to live, I was transferred off my spinal board, into the MRI scanning machine. Imagine having no sleep for 3 days, being in unbelievable pain, wanting to vomit every 30 mins and then being told you have to keep totally still in a tube no more than 30 inches in diameter for 45mins - I just lay there, tried not to vomit (that would have put the process back to the start) and tried to go to a happy place for that time.
Post MRI, it was straight into Theatre for my back operation - as I got wheeled out of the MRI machine and into the pre surgery I genuinely wanted to be knocked out. I’d been so ill, so wrenched and mentally on the very edge, being knocked out seemed like the best option I had at the time. I’d also lost a lot of fluid, having neither eaten or drunk anything in three days and the feeling of a fresh saline drip provided some respite. Again as I started to loose consciousness I prayed - I’m not particularly religious, but it felt like I had to cling to something other than luck & my personal resolve. The operation was quite a complicated one and the surgeons had informed me there was a percentage chance that I could be paralysed - I didn’t really have an option - so I just had to go for it and as I went under I wiggled my toes for what I felt could have been the last time.
The operation they performed is known as spinal fusion - my L5 vertebrae was shattered & I’d been extremely lucky not to have damaged my spinal cord and the complications that causes - the surgeons would drill into my S1 & L4 vertebrae, screw in 2inch anchor screws and then join them up with two vertical 5inch titanium rods - a lengthy and intricate operation.
Coming round from the anaesthetic of my second major operation in three days was a much more pleasant experience - as I woke up I was aware that I was at a 45degree angle in bed and as the fog of anaesthesia wore of I had one of the most uplifting experiences of my life - I could feel my legs and move my feet. When there’s a chance you could never walk again aged 37, having had a life of long distance & marathon running, the feeling that I wouldn’t be confined to a wheelchair is something I’ll never ever forget.
My wife came to see me on the Monday afternoon and I the most euphoric I’d ever been in my life - I even had a few mouthfuls of NHS Curry and a can of coke - just the taste was a wonderful thing. As she left in the evening I was in a happy place - I’d got through something that would have finished most people off and was here to fight another day - that’s some feeling. Unfortunately I had another bad night as my bowels were still frozen and I continued to vomit every couple of hours and again had a night of very limited sleep.
My parents & wife came to see me in the afternoon and as soon as they entered the room they could see that I wasn’t in the best of health (or moods to be fair). My father said that I was looking a little run down - all I could do was look him in the eyes and then vomited continuously for the next 20mins. The strange thing is bile vomit is not like your “usual” vomit - it’s bright green & has the look & consistency of pea soup. The doctors were getting concerned that nothing was happening to my bowels and the vomiting & no sleep was gradually mentally wearing me down and into a state.
The decision was taken to get a tube into my stomach to drain the bile on a periodic basis. This involved me having to snort down a a plastic tube that was then passed down my wind-pipe and into my stomach. I had a shot of morphine from the automatic machine (you have a button that allows you to self administer on a timed basis) and the doctor then carried out the procedure - he then proceeded to use an industrial sized syringe to draw down the bile - I took a few more shots of morphine and despite the room being full for friends and family, most noted that I appeared to be drugged up to my eyeballs…
By Wednesday I was in a totally different place. The nurses had removed my bile drain and I’d asked to have the morphine drip removed - Morphine is a crazy drug that, despite the benefits of it when you’re in horrendous pain, can’t be that good for you & I was aware of the impact of it on any bowel movements (you tend to get very constipated) - within hours I started to feel “cleansed”.
The next morning I also had my bladder catheter removed - again something that is more painful than you can even imagine. I was knocked out (my laparoscopy) when they’d inserted the catheter - the put a tube into your penis and up into your bladder & then inflate a balloon that keeps it in place - but I wasn’t when they take it out - the only way I can describe it is like having boiling water poured down the chap - given the removal was done at 0630hrs, I was a sure fire way to get me up in the morning…
Post that the rehabilitation started; first I was on a zimmer frame around the ward, then sticks and finally short distances.
This was now six months ago and I’m still undergoing physiotherapy and have a CAT scan next Thursday to see how my back is progressing. I’m still in pain & feel very old some days with a stiff back, but overall I feel that I’m lucky to be here. I remember watching TT3D (the Isle of Man TT race documentary) last summer and the comments that the buzz you get from “getting away with it” after a big smash beats nothing else in life and hence they seek it out time and time again, really rang true - I won’t be seeking the crash out again, but the feeling of survival beats no other feeling I’ve had in my life. During my rehabilitation, sitting out in the garden and having the sun on my face was one of the best feelings in the world.
When you’re faced with death at a relatively young age, you’ll fight for it like you’ve never fought before - when you get through it you’ll never look at life in the same way again - everything & I mean everything, is great!
Enjoy life - it’s for living. And most importantly, stay safe on the roads.
Edited to update the story.
Well on Thursday/Early hours of Friday 16/17th August 2012 I got to find out what it’s like to feel that.
I was a passenger in a car crash that resulted in me tearing both my bowel & intestine, breaking my back (both a wedge and burst fracture of my L5 vertebrae) and a “bulls-eye” head strike on the windscreen (despite wearing a seatbelt).
Bad injuries. Life threatening injuries. If I’d lay by the road, where the driver had pulled me out of the wreckage and left me, I’d have been dead within a few hours.
As I lay there, I started to come round after some time (or at least realise I hadn’t died - I had the full on slow motion move towards an intensive light and then the drag back into what felt like “life”), I really did think that I was in a lot of trouble; no feeling in my mid-section, terrible feeling of massive G-Force in my stomach and a general shock feeling that this was not going to end in me getting up and walking out of hospital after a check-up.
Within what felt like a few minutes, a paramedic arrived and took no time in cutting my clothes off and started putting lines into my left arm as well as a healthy dose of Morphine, as the spinal board and all of the spinal stabilising equipment was put around me, I really did think that things were not going too well.
The Ambulance ride to the Royal London went within a blink - I’d spoken to the police officers (only barely) and told them where I lived - my wife would be worried where I was - and please get her to me as soon as they could - a swift ride into the A&E department followed. Given what I’d been through I remember little of what happened in the time after that, but I now know that I’d had a CAT scan, which had show the internal bleeding and broken back.
My wife had arrived at some point during the CAT scan and I had a chance to hold her hand and look into her eyes - I knew things weren’t looking too well for me - it was a terrible moment when I was told that I had to have surgery (all very calmly done to be fair) and then I had to say goodbye to Mrs Duggan - it all felt very “it’ll be ok” until I looked down to the end of the trolley and saw a nurse with a tear in her eye.
Breathing down the anaesthetic came very easy - I’d never been under the knife before and I strangely thought that if I didn’t breath it all in, I’d be anesthetised, but still able to feel the surgery. As I started to lose consciousness again I really did have a feeling of “s
t - is this it?” It’s something very difficult to describe to anyone who has never been that close to death. Given I’d had a terrible accident and had at least a hour after it to contemplate life/what had happened to me, it wasn’t “life flashing before your eyes”, it was more of regret - life was about to come to an end.I had a 5hr laparoscopy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laparotomy), during which they basically opened me up from my groin to rib-cage and then scooped all internal organs out, repaired the damage and then put them back in & sewed me back up. Waking up from the anaesthesia was like entering hell - I came to in the trauma ward, with a chap next to me who had had both his legs amputated above the knees and was screaming in pain and thrashing around his bed - to be honest I couldn’t believe I was still alive.
I was transferred to my own room in the Royal London and given around the clock care. I’d had the Laparoscopy early on Friday morning and by Friday night I was again in a terrible situation - the surgery meant that my internal organs had freezed - the body produces over 2.5ltrs of bile a day and it couldn’t move - I ended up vomiting over 48hrs in a constant 30mins on/30mins off pattern - involuntary stomach clenching when you vomit & the movement it caused to my splintered spine, combined with a vertical 8 inch fresh scar (the opening they’d taken all of my guts out from) down my abdomen, made for pain like you can never describe to people or even imagine.
On Sunday afternoon one of the surgeons came over and told me I’d also broken my back.
Overnight from Sunday to the Monday morning I genuinely though I was going mad, due to the lack of sleep, horrendous pain & vomiting. I had an intravenous Morphine drip, but I still was in a world of pain. As I only just got through the night I was told that I’d be having an MRI scan at 8am on Monday morning.
Feeling like I’d lost the will to live, I was transferred off my spinal board, into the MRI scanning machine. Imagine having no sleep for 3 days, being in unbelievable pain, wanting to vomit every 30 mins and then being told you have to keep totally still in a tube no more than 30 inches in diameter for 45mins - I just lay there, tried not to vomit (that would have put the process back to the start) and tried to go to a happy place for that time.
Post MRI, it was straight into Theatre for my back operation - as I got wheeled out of the MRI machine and into the pre surgery I genuinely wanted to be knocked out. I’d been so ill, so wrenched and mentally on the very edge, being knocked out seemed like the best option I had at the time. I’d also lost a lot of fluid, having neither eaten or drunk anything in three days and the feeling of a fresh saline drip provided some respite. Again as I started to loose consciousness I prayed - I’m not particularly religious, but it felt like I had to cling to something other than luck & my personal resolve. The operation was quite a complicated one and the surgeons had informed me there was a percentage chance that I could be paralysed - I didn’t really have an option - so I just had to go for it and as I went under I wiggled my toes for what I felt could have been the last time.
The operation they performed is known as spinal fusion - my L5 vertebrae was shattered & I’d been extremely lucky not to have damaged my spinal cord and the complications that causes - the surgeons would drill into my S1 & L4 vertebrae, screw in 2inch anchor screws and then join them up with two vertical 5inch titanium rods - a lengthy and intricate operation.
Coming round from the anaesthetic of my second major operation in three days was a much more pleasant experience - as I woke up I was aware that I was at a 45degree angle in bed and as the fog of anaesthesia wore of I had one of the most uplifting experiences of my life - I could feel my legs and move my feet. When there’s a chance you could never walk again aged 37, having had a life of long distance & marathon running, the feeling that I wouldn’t be confined to a wheelchair is something I’ll never ever forget.
My wife came to see me on the Monday afternoon and I the most euphoric I’d ever been in my life - I even had a few mouthfuls of NHS Curry and a can of coke - just the taste was a wonderful thing. As she left in the evening I was in a happy place - I’d got through something that would have finished most people off and was here to fight another day - that’s some feeling. Unfortunately I had another bad night as my bowels were still frozen and I continued to vomit every couple of hours and again had a night of very limited sleep.
My parents & wife came to see me in the afternoon and as soon as they entered the room they could see that I wasn’t in the best of health (or moods to be fair). My father said that I was looking a little run down - all I could do was look him in the eyes and then vomited continuously for the next 20mins. The strange thing is bile vomit is not like your “usual” vomit - it’s bright green & has the look & consistency of pea soup. The doctors were getting concerned that nothing was happening to my bowels and the vomiting & no sleep was gradually mentally wearing me down and into a state.
The decision was taken to get a tube into my stomach to drain the bile on a periodic basis. This involved me having to snort down a a plastic tube that was then passed down my wind-pipe and into my stomach. I had a shot of morphine from the automatic machine (you have a button that allows you to self administer on a timed basis) and the doctor then carried out the procedure - he then proceeded to use an industrial sized syringe to draw down the bile - I took a few more shots of morphine and despite the room being full for friends and family, most noted that I appeared to be drugged up to my eyeballs…
By Wednesday I was in a totally different place. The nurses had removed my bile drain and I’d asked to have the morphine drip removed - Morphine is a crazy drug that, despite the benefits of it when you’re in horrendous pain, can’t be that good for you & I was aware of the impact of it on any bowel movements (you tend to get very constipated) - within hours I started to feel “cleansed”.
The next morning I also had my bladder catheter removed - again something that is more painful than you can even imagine. I was knocked out (my laparoscopy) when they’d inserted the catheter - the put a tube into your penis and up into your bladder & then inflate a balloon that keeps it in place - but I wasn’t when they take it out - the only way I can describe it is like having boiling water poured down the chap - given the removal was done at 0630hrs, I was a sure fire way to get me up in the morning…
Post that the rehabilitation started; first I was on a zimmer frame around the ward, then sticks and finally short distances.
This was now six months ago and I’m still undergoing physiotherapy and have a CAT scan next Thursday to see how my back is progressing. I’m still in pain & feel very old some days with a stiff back, but overall I feel that I’m lucky to be here. I remember watching TT3D (the Isle of Man TT race documentary) last summer and the comments that the buzz you get from “getting away with it” after a big smash beats nothing else in life and hence they seek it out time and time again, really rang true - I won’t be seeking the crash out again, but the feeling of survival beats no other feeling I’ve had in my life. During my rehabilitation, sitting out in the garden and having the sun on my face was one of the best feelings in the world.
When you’re faced with death at a relatively young age, you’ll fight for it like you’ve never fought before - when you get through it you’ll never look at life in the same way again - everything & I mean everything, is great!
Enjoy life - it’s for living. And most importantly, stay safe on the roads.
Edited to update the story.
Edited by duggan on Sunday 3rd March 16:20
Edited by duggan on Sunday 3rd March 16:48
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