Discussion
I recently got being scared redefined for myself. I work sleepovers with disabled adults im always a lone worker last week whilst working with an older guy with down syndrome around 3am I was woken by him screaming the house down it was the most god awful sound iv ever heard (I wore headphones the rest of the shift in case he done it again) and when I got to him he was covered in blood and lashed out at me. Bear in mind this happened 4 miles from the nearest person and in an unlit rural area. Turned out everything was ok he was upset.
I never used to be scared until we had a child then life changes and stupid stuff sort off stops as there's now a lot more responsibility.
About9 years ago I took my son to hospital for a dye injection and scan as he had a prolapse kidney. He was placed in a tray on a metal table then had a scanner placed over him,the idiot doing the scanning was remotely operating the machine with a connected remote. He pushed the wrong button and the scanner went a bit too close to this head,he then pressed the same button again and the scanner hit him on the head,so he's now wedged between the scanner and the metal table, I ran over and push my hands and arms into the machine to try and lift the scanner up,my son was screaming,I was shouting for him to release him, he panicked and walked off, luckily a nurse was able to press the correct button and release my sons head that was still wedged, if the idiot had pressed the button again he would have crushed my lads skull,I was bloody furious. The scan was aborted and I was sent home, I went around to casualty to see a Dr,my lad was ok, bar a mark on his forehead. This was just to log an injury on his file.
A few weeks later,My wife and I where invited into speak with the head of the Radiology department that had come down from a London hospital, he was most upset at what had happened and had said the radiologist had been for retraining had been through HR and disaplined and was truly sorry for what he had done.
I suppose he was lucky he did just walk off, I has so angry,Id never hit anyone before but if he had stayed I think that would have changed.
About9 years ago I took my son to hospital for a dye injection and scan as he had a prolapse kidney. He was placed in a tray on a metal table then had a scanner placed over him,the idiot doing the scanning was remotely operating the machine with a connected remote. He pushed the wrong button and the scanner went a bit too close to this head,he then pressed the same button again and the scanner hit him on the head,so he's now wedged between the scanner and the metal table, I ran over and push my hands and arms into the machine to try and lift the scanner up,my son was screaming,I was shouting for him to release him, he panicked and walked off, luckily a nurse was able to press the correct button and release my sons head that was still wedged, if the idiot had pressed the button again he would have crushed my lads skull,I was bloody furious. The scan was aborted and I was sent home, I went around to casualty to see a Dr,my lad was ok, bar a mark on his forehead. This was just to log an injury on his file.
A few weeks later,My wife and I where invited into speak with the head of the Radiology department that had come down from a London hospital, he was most upset at what had happened and had said the radiologist had been for retraining had been through HR and disaplined and was truly sorry for what he had done.
I suppose he was lucky he did just walk off, I has so angry,Id never hit anyone before but if he had stayed I think that would have changed.
Edited by gtidriver on Wednesday 26th July 02:13
dabofoppo said:
I recently got being scared redefined for myself. I work sleepovers with disabled adults im always a lone worker last week whilst working with an older guy with down syndrome around 3am I was woken by him screaming the house down it was the most god awful sound iv ever heard (I wore headphones the rest of the shift in case he done it again) and when I got to him he was covered in blood and lashed out at me. Bear in mind this happened 4 miles from the nearest person and in an unlit rural area. Turned out everything was ok he was upset.
Why was he covered in blood?
dabofoppo said:
I recently got being scared redefined for myself. I work sleepovers with disabled adults im always a lone worker last week whilst working with an older guy with down syndrome around 3am I was woken by him screaming the house down it was the most god awful sound iv ever heard (I wore headphones the rest of the shift in case he done it again) and when I got to him he was covered in blood and lashed out at me. Bear in mind this happened 4 miles from the nearest person and in an unlit rural area. Turned out everything was ok he was upset.
The point of doing sleepovers is that you're there to assist. Putting your headphones in and ignoring is pretty poor form.Another that has just sprung to mind, after reading other accounts, was my partner after 24hrs of labour being rushed down for an emergency c-section as the boy (who is now 4 and I wrote about choking earlier) heart rate was dropping, and they needed him out asap. I've never felt so hopeless!
mrtwisty said:
The rips at Croyde can be bloody fearsome at times.
Did a bit of sea kayaking there on my sit-on-top earlier in the year. Got tossed out near the shore, bonked pretty hard on the back of the head by the yak (wearing a helmet thank god), then nearly pulled back out despite only being in about 3 feet of water.
Scariest experience for me - eye surgery while fully conscious. Numerous times. Having a scalpel coming at my eye is not not an experience I'm keen to repeat in a hurry.
Yes, Croyde can be a nasty place, especially if you don't know what you're doing. 1st time I went body boarding there the Air Ambulance landed on the beach for a surf skier who had broken his back.Did a bit of sea kayaking there on my sit-on-top earlier in the year. Got tossed out near the shore, bonked pretty hard on the back of the head by the yak (wearing a helmet thank god), then nearly pulled back out despite only being in about 3 feet of water.
Scariest experience for me - eye surgery while fully conscious. Numerous times. Having a scalpel coming at my eye is not not an experience I'm keen to repeat in a hurry.
I got towed in by a lifeguard once, he thought I was in bother, I wasn't but I enjoyed being towed passed my mates!
The eye op sounds horrendous, I've had lots done to one of mine & that sounds like a nightmare
Edited to add, I'm with the 'cavers are f
king nuts' crowd! Edited by LordHaveMurci on Wednesday 26th July 13:45
R8Steve said:
dabofoppo said:
I recently got being scared redefined for myself. I work sleepovers with disabled adults im always a lone worker last week whilst working with an older guy with down syndrome around 3am I was woken by him screaming the house down it was the most god awful sound iv ever heard (I wore headphones the rest of the shift in case he done it again) and when I got to him he was covered in blood and lashed out at me. Bear in mind this happened 4 miles from the nearest person and in an unlit rural area. Turned out everything was ok he was upset.
Why was he covered in blood?
LordHaveMurci said:
mrtwisty said:
The rips at Croyde can be bloody fearsome at times.
Did a bit of sea kayaking there on my sit-on-top earlier in the year. Got tossed out near the shore, bonked pretty hard on the back of the head by the yak (wearing a helmet thank god), then nearly pulled back out despite only being in about 3 feet of water.
Scariest experience for me - eye surgery while fully conscious. Numerous times. Having a scalpel coming at my eye is not not an experience I'm keen to repeat in a hurry.
Yes, Croyde can be a nasty place, especially if you don't know what you're doing. 1st time I went body boarding there the Air Ambulance landed on the beach for a surf skier who had broken his back.Did a bit of sea kayaking there on my sit-on-top earlier in the year. Got tossed out near the shore, bonked pretty hard on the back of the head by the yak (wearing a helmet thank god), then nearly pulled back out despite only being in about 3 feet of water.
Scariest experience for me - eye surgery while fully conscious. Numerous times. Having a scalpel coming at my eye is not not an experience I'm keen to repeat in a hurry.
I got towed in by a lifeguard once, he thought I was in bother, I wasn't but I enjoyed being towed passed my mates!
The eye op sounds horrendous, I've had lots done to one of mine & that sounds like a nightmare
Edited to add, I'm with the 'cavers are f
king nuts' crowd! Edited by LordHaveMurci on Wednesday 26th July 13:45
As a kid being in an open air swimming pool, not being able to swim and someone in a small inflatable boat managed to stop on me holding me under the water, kinda set me up for a great fear of water until I was 52 (now 56) when I had to confess to my wife after a complete freak out when they tried to get me underwater and scuba diving, I know, I know I should not have even tried.
Luckily she is a very good psychologist and got me through my fear of water, she did have one question though ' how the **** were you a lifeboatman in the *******Atlantic for years'
Luckily she is a very good psychologist and got me through my fear of water, she did have one question though ' how the **** were you a lifeboatman in the *******Atlantic for years'
I've had a couple of scary moments myself but nothing comes close to fear for your children.
To cut a massive story short my daughter (9 at the time) was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung tumour. Many scary moments including the initial point where you are ushered into a room by a consultant. They are really terrible at this because as soon as you are told someone wants to speak to you, the look on the nurses face is such that you instantly know. There is a slight delay whilst you try and work out what is troubling you and then total and absolute fear.
Various attempts at treatment later it became apparent that there was no current treatment and due to it spreading too near her heart an operation was virtually impossible.
An oncologist told us that the one last thing they could try was an experimental drug currently on trial in London which, although had not been tried on this tumour, nor indeed on a child, might have some effect although it was an educated shot in the dark.
She was quickly put on the trial and started her on these drugs and had said that they would scan her in 6 weeks and if there was no change then they would stop the trial immediately.
For the first week it wasn't so bad because whilst there are still things they can try you manage to retain hope and keep yourself together.
As the 6 weeks started to tick down, though, and you were faced with a scan that was effectively all or nothing, the fear was utterly unbearable. Like waiting for a life/death sentence on your child. Absolutely nothing compares with the incessant 24 hour a day crushing dread you feel - steadily increasing on the build-up to the 6 week d-day. My wife and I were like a couple of zombies leading up to the day and just couldn't talk to anyone, even each other.
Then the summons for the results. All in slow motion.
Anyway, the happy ending was that the drugs were an absolute miracle. The tumour shrunk by 60% in 6 weeks and the oncologists had never had such a result. From crushing dread to an absolute euphoria like I know I will never feel again and you could see that the doctors were sharing it too. A few of them subsequently commented that the moment was a career high for them as well.
I don't think anything could ever happen to me again to make me that scared.
To cut a massive story short my daughter (9 at the time) was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung tumour. Many scary moments including the initial point where you are ushered into a room by a consultant. They are really terrible at this because as soon as you are told someone wants to speak to you, the look on the nurses face is such that you instantly know. There is a slight delay whilst you try and work out what is troubling you and then total and absolute fear.
Various attempts at treatment later it became apparent that there was no current treatment and due to it spreading too near her heart an operation was virtually impossible.
An oncologist told us that the one last thing they could try was an experimental drug currently on trial in London which, although had not been tried on this tumour, nor indeed on a child, might have some effect although it was an educated shot in the dark.
She was quickly put on the trial and started her on these drugs and had said that they would scan her in 6 weeks and if there was no change then they would stop the trial immediately.
For the first week it wasn't so bad because whilst there are still things they can try you manage to retain hope and keep yourself together.
As the 6 weeks started to tick down, though, and you were faced with a scan that was effectively all or nothing, the fear was utterly unbearable. Like waiting for a life/death sentence on your child. Absolutely nothing compares with the incessant 24 hour a day crushing dread you feel - steadily increasing on the build-up to the 6 week d-day. My wife and I were like a couple of zombies leading up to the day and just couldn't talk to anyone, even each other.
Then the summons for the results. All in slow motion.
Anyway, the happy ending was that the drugs were an absolute miracle. The tumour shrunk by 60% in 6 weeks and the oncologists had never had such a result. From crushing dread to an absolute euphoria like I know I will never feel again and you could see that the doctors were sharing it too. A few of them subsequently commented that the moment was a career high for them as well.
I don't think anything could ever happen to me again to make me that scared.
blindswelledrat said:
I've had a couple of scary moments myself but nothing comes close to fear for your children.
To cut a massive story short my daughter (9 at the time) was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung tumour. Many scary moments including the initial point where you are ushered into a room by a consultant. They are really terrible at this because as soon as you are told someone wants to speak to you, the look on the nurses face is such that you instantly know. There is a slight delay whilst you try and work out what is troubling you and then total and absolute fear.
Various attempts at treatment later it became apparent that there was no current treatment and due to it spreading too near her heart an operation was virtually impossible.
An oncologist told us that the one last thing they could try was an experimental drug currently on trial in London which, although had not been tried on this tumour, nor indeed on a child, might have some effect although it was an educated shot in the dark.
She was quickly put on the trial and started her on these drugs and had said that they would scan her in 6 weeks and if there was no change then they would stop the trial immediately.
For the first week it wasn't so bad because whilst there are still things they can try you manage to retain hope and keep yourself together.
As the 6 weeks started to tick down, though, and you were faced with a scan that was effectively all or nothing, the fear was utterly unbearable. Like waiting for a life/death sentence on your child. Absolutely nothing compares with the incessant 24 hour a day crushing dread you feel - steadily increasing on the build-up to the 6 week d-day. My wife and I were like a couple of zombies leading up to the day and just couldn't talk to anyone, even each other.
Then the summons for the results. All in slow motion.
Anyway, the happy ending was that the drugs were an absolute miracle. The tumour shrunk by 60% in 6 weeks and the oncologists had never had such a result. From crushing dread to an absolute euphoria like I know I will never feel again and you could see that the doctors were sharing it too. A few of them subsequently commented that the moment was a career high for them as well.
I don't think anything could ever happen to me again to make me that scared.
Wow, just wow. So, so glad that had a happy ending.To cut a massive story short my daughter (9 at the time) was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung tumour. Many scary moments including the initial point where you are ushered into a room by a consultant. They are really terrible at this because as soon as you are told someone wants to speak to you, the look on the nurses face is such that you instantly know. There is a slight delay whilst you try and work out what is troubling you and then total and absolute fear.
Various attempts at treatment later it became apparent that there was no current treatment and due to it spreading too near her heart an operation was virtually impossible.
An oncologist told us that the one last thing they could try was an experimental drug currently on trial in London which, although had not been tried on this tumour, nor indeed on a child, might have some effect although it was an educated shot in the dark.
She was quickly put on the trial and started her on these drugs and had said that they would scan her in 6 weeks and if there was no change then they would stop the trial immediately.
For the first week it wasn't so bad because whilst there are still things they can try you manage to retain hope and keep yourself together.
As the 6 weeks started to tick down, though, and you were faced with a scan that was effectively all or nothing, the fear was utterly unbearable. Like waiting for a life/death sentence on your child. Absolutely nothing compares with the incessant 24 hour a day crushing dread you feel - steadily increasing on the build-up to the 6 week d-day. My wife and I were like a couple of zombies leading up to the day and just couldn't talk to anyone, even each other.
Then the summons for the results. All in slow motion.
Anyway, the happy ending was that the drugs were an absolute miracle. The tumour shrunk by 60% in 6 weeks and the oncologists had never had such a result. From crushing dread to an absolute euphoria like I know I will never feel again and you could see that the doctors were sharing it too. A few of them subsequently commented that the moment was a career high for them as well.
I don't think anything could ever happen to me again to make me that scared.
Not as exciting as some of the stories on here but in a way, thank goodness.
Used to run a small country garage that had very few customers. Was on a main A road dual carriageway but most folk were going past at 70 and missed my petrol station. Would be lucky if I saw 40-50 customers on a 11 hour shift.
One day, while bored out of my skull, saw the door open and in walked what looked to be a motorcyclist with a full face helmet on. He fumbled about in his pocket and proceeded to pull out a gun and point it at me. Have to say, how I never fainted / screamed / crapped myself I have no idea but I didn't. He waved it around a bit, asked me to put all the money I had in the till in a bag and obviously I agreed.
Once he had gone (getaway car outside, no bike!), I ran out the door and raised the alarm. Police there quite quickly, not sure if they ended up catching him or not. Never the same working up there afterwards, he had committed an armed robbery for maybe £100, never worth it. Had to film a Crimestoppers reconstruction a week later which took 2 hours to record 45 seconds worth.
Used to run a small country garage that had very few customers. Was on a main A road dual carriageway but most folk were going past at 70 and missed my petrol station. Would be lucky if I saw 40-50 customers on a 11 hour shift.
One day, while bored out of my skull, saw the door open and in walked what looked to be a motorcyclist with a full face helmet on. He fumbled about in his pocket and proceeded to pull out a gun and point it at me. Have to say, how I never fainted / screamed / crapped myself I have no idea but I didn't. He waved it around a bit, asked me to put all the money I had in the till in a bag and obviously I agreed.
Once he had gone (getaway car outside, no bike!), I ran out the door and raised the alarm. Police there quite quickly, not sure if they ended up catching him or not. Never the same working up there afterwards, he had committed an armed robbery for maybe £100, never worth it. Had to film a Crimestoppers reconstruction a week later which took 2 hours to record 45 seconds worth.
LordHaveMurci said:
blindswelledrat said:
I've had a couple of scary moments myself but nothing comes close to fear for your children.
To cut a massive story short my daughter (9 at the time) was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung tumour. Many scary moments including the initial point where you are ushered into a room by a consultant. They are really terrible at this because as soon as you are told someone wants to speak to you, the look on the nurses face is such that you instantly know. There is a slight delay whilst you try and work out what is troubling you and then total and absolute fear.
Various attempts at treatment later it became apparent that there was no current treatment and due to it spreading too near her heart an operation was virtually impossible.
An oncologist told us that the one last thing they could try was an experimental drug currently on trial in London which, although had not been tried on this tumour, nor indeed on a child, might have some effect although it was an educated shot in the dark.
She was quickly put on the trial and started her on these drugs and had said that they would scan her in 6 weeks and if there was no change then they would stop the trial immediately.
For the first week it wasn't so bad because whilst there are still things they can try you manage to retain hope and keep yourself together.
As the 6 weeks started to tick down, though, and you were faced with a scan that was effectively all or nothing, the fear was utterly unbearable. Like waiting for a life/death sentence on your child. Absolutely nothing compares with the incessant 24 hour a day crushing dread you feel - steadily increasing on the build-up to the 6 week d-day. My wife and I were like a couple of zombies leading up to the day and just couldn't talk to anyone, even each other.
Then the summons for the results. All in slow motion.
Anyway, the happy ending was that the drugs were an absolute miracle. The tumour shrunk by 60% in 6 weeks and the oncologists had never had such a result. From crushing dread to an absolute euphoria like I know I will never feel again and you could see that the doctors were sharing it too. A few of them subsequently commented that the moment was a career high for them as well.
I don't think anything could ever happen to me again to make me that scared.
Wow, just wow. So, so glad that had a happy ending.To cut a massive story short my daughter (9 at the time) was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung tumour. Many scary moments including the initial point where you are ushered into a room by a consultant. They are really terrible at this because as soon as you are told someone wants to speak to you, the look on the nurses face is such that you instantly know. There is a slight delay whilst you try and work out what is troubling you and then total and absolute fear.
Various attempts at treatment later it became apparent that there was no current treatment and due to it spreading too near her heart an operation was virtually impossible.
An oncologist told us that the one last thing they could try was an experimental drug currently on trial in London which, although had not been tried on this tumour, nor indeed on a child, might have some effect although it was an educated shot in the dark.
She was quickly put on the trial and started her on these drugs and had said that they would scan her in 6 weeks and if there was no change then they would stop the trial immediately.
For the first week it wasn't so bad because whilst there are still things they can try you manage to retain hope and keep yourself together.
As the 6 weeks started to tick down, though, and you were faced with a scan that was effectively all or nothing, the fear was utterly unbearable. Like waiting for a life/death sentence on your child. Absolutely nothing compares with the incessant 24 hour a day crushing dread you feel - steadily increasing on the build-up to the 6 week d-day. My wife and I were like a couple of zombies leading up to the day and just couldn't talk to anyone, even each other.
Then the summons for the results. All in slow motion.
Anyway, the happy ending was that the drugs were an absolute miracle. The tumour shrunk by 60% in 6 weeks and the oncologists had never had such a result. From crushing dread to an absolute euphoria like I know I will never feel again and you could see that the doctors were sharing it too. A few of them subsequently commented that the moment was a career high for them as well.
I don't think anything could ever happen to me again to make me that scared.
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