we have all seen them.huge specimens that need attention,but the owner may not even be aware they are there,may not want to visit/bother a doctor with it.
Here's the plan:We create a business card that we can discreetly pass to the person in question,offering cleansing of pores,hygenic removal of cysts,sterile elimination of boils/zits or just unwanted/unsightly blemishes.We could even offer a fee(is this legal),perhaps for the right to video the procedure.
Nobody is doing anything illegal like pretending to be a doctor/trained practicioner,but there would surely be some takers for the service.
Maybe somebody can come up with a rough draft and see where it goes from there?
I think this idea has a lot of potential.
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offering out services to the needy
(16 posts) (5 voices)
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Posted 2 years ago #
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Yeah, but just what would such a "Have Gun, Will Travel" card open poppers up to? Because it works the other way, too: people desperately need poppers....brave, committed poppers. For example, I've had one before that just could *not* get in a worse or more inaccessible place. *(WARNING: The remainder of the this post contains adult language and explicit, graphic descriptions of medical conditions and treatments which may constitute TMI in the minds of many readers. Please read no further if this might offend you.)* Okay, it was deep inside my ass-cheek, where I simply could not get the kind of full and firm grip needed to ensure complete expulsion. So I was going to need help.
I was really worried because I just didn't know how my wife would react to my request to, well, go mining for an infected ingrown hair near my, uh, bomb-bay door. It looked like I was going to have to petty much drape myself over a Pilates ball to give my wife (or whoever the popper would be) a full and open field to work in. It would have been a true test of love to ask my wife, and quite frankly I'm not sure if she was up to it.
The infection site was getting worse, until it was the size of a large grape...a drum-tight, red hot, infected grape that was beginning to throb. It was The Moment Of Truth: I either had to ask my wife to probe my butt crack with a razor blade and tweezers; or go to my doctor's office, where I was friends with everyone and knew the story would get out about my infected ass.
I opted for my wife. But before I went to break the good news to her, I would give it one last try to see if I could by some stroke of luck avoid humiliating myself and traumatizing my wife. So there I was in our bathroom, naked from the waist down, with one leg up on the bathroom counter and my arm pretzeled around me into a contortion unknown outside of a Cirque du Soleil show or the Kama Sutra. I carefully leaned against the mirror to force my shoulder down so my arm and hand could get into what should have been a physically impossible overreach. I used my body weight to keep arm and hand there. Lo and behold, I could just barely get a a full, solid thumb-and-two-finger grip on that huge nugget of pain. Crush! As I bore down I felt an electric bolt of pain shoot up from the center of my being, go straight up the back of my head to my brain, come out my ears and nose and go straight back down again to the source. Ye gods and little fishes that hurt! But I kept squeezing, until, Sweet Jesus, I heard and felt a sharp "pop!". I felt that nasty globule of putresence hit my palm with some force and then ricochet off.
Oh, the pain, and relief! And I looked around for the demon of excrescence I had just violently expelled from my body. On my hand the explosion had left some splattering of tiny bits of sebum in a trace of almost clear serous liquid with some blood in it. In the bathroom sink I found the evil globule of filth that had me in misery over the past several days. It was fairly intact, indeed the size of a grape; a dirty-white bolus of semi-solid sebum, trailing a few little thin kind of strings of sebum-like stuff and a small bit of translucent fluid and blood. The filth glob was almost blue in places nearest an evil-looking twisted length of rotten-looking hair, which had obviously been perversely boring inside of me for some weeks, maybe even months. It was a vile thing which both repelled and attracted me.
But it wasn't too long before a wave of well-being washed over me as endorphins flooded my brain. I had some difficulty undoing the body-knot I was in, but as soon as I did I gathered up that nasty scuzz ball on some tissue for the final exam. I crushed it in the tissue and there was no additional pop, but I did feel an almost waxy consistency, like a core of an old zit. A last look and it was flushed away. And then I gave that counter, sink and myself a brush scrubbing with anti-bacterials soaps and Lysol. As for the blast site, some follow-on squeezes hurt a little but brought just some clear fluid from the crater. The blast hole was already shrinking, so I put a simple Band-Aid on it, and never another problem.
And I didn't even tell my wife about it until afterward. She was very glad I was so thoughtful and gave it one last squeeze before asking her.
So that was my experience. I was very nearly at the point I would have taken someone up on an offer of a pop. But will the Paladins of Pus really offer a pop to those poor wretches with ingrown ass hairs?
Posted 2 years ago # -
jumbob, sir, i challenge your veracity! you almost had me.
harrumph!
"deep inside the ass cheek," "near [yer], uh, bomb-bay door"?
no way in hell did you put a bandaid on it...
score one for the forces of truth and good.
Posted 2 years ago # -
Kat: an admirable goal but one that I'd not offer to do for reasons of liability (unless I were a nurse or doctor). When you're offering a service like that, you establish a nurse/patient or doctor/patient relationship, and if something goes wrong and you are sued, then it's an almost certain loss in court because you've misrepresented yourself as a trained and licensed health care provider. Not having a license to practice is a one-way ticket to either jail time or a VERY stiff fine. Just thought you'd want to know.
Cheers,
Mary~Posted 2 years ago # -
well,this is my point-so we word it so that we make it quite clear we are not professionally trained...for example,the word practiced,does not mean the same as trained of qualified...this is why the exact eording of the card would be so important.
and jumbob,i would have no qualms at all about attacking your monsterous inader..of course i would be concerned about the amount of pain it must be causing you,but between us we could surely win it over.we could even invite your wife into the provedure to allay any worried of some strange female getting into such an intimate position with her man-maybe she could even be the cam.Posted 2 years ago # -
Well, the business card should read clearly, not a medical professional...
oh Jumbob, what a story! I was salivating! boy oh boy.. One just need to request my services, I am not shy!
Im glad you brought that up. My husband needed me to look at the sphincter that enclosed his rectum, as he said there was a burning sensation there. I gloved up and washed the area very well with soap and warm h2o then patted the area dry as he was very hairy in that area. I got it dry and the bulk of the hair cut away only to realize there were big blackheads in that area! I mean big ones! mashing them wasn't easy either. My husband didn't believe me! Well, I said, seeing is believing! It took me 5 minuets to express one, oh, he wanted to jump out of his skin! That thing was at least 3" long and I'm not kidding! He had at least 10 just as big as the first, then about a dozen lesser ones. It took 2 days to clear them up.
Gentlemen, I challenge you to do this. Have your wife look or get a mirror squat over it and look yourselves. You may very well get some kind of surprise you were not expecting. I have been a nurse for 25 yrs. and didn't realize that area was a good area to grow blackheads, but it surely is! Solution, when you are in the shower get a wash cloth and scour the heck out of your butt. It's not comfortable, but my husband will tell you getting rid of them hurts alot worse. Keep the hair shaved away. This would not embarrass my husband as we both know he is a clean person. I never thought peri-anal hair would be condusive for blackheads!Posted 2 years ago # -
do people really need to be encouraged to wash their ass?
anyone who didn't know that one needs to thoroughly clean the ass, raise your hand
(and then go wash your ass!).Posted 2 years ago # -
NO, no, no Prof. I'm sure all civil folk know to wash their butt, There are many however, that don't know that can be an area for blackhead accumulation! Being the surface of that area is full of wrinkles, crinkles, and crevices, How can I put this? It takes a bit of elbow grease to ensure positive cleanliness. Removal of the hair, makes it easier.. I'm sure no one would raise their hand!lol... (Pt. teaching is part of my job, D'ya think folks would understand me?) snicker!!
Posted 2 years ago # -
sorry to interrupt here,but on the subject of personal hygiene,i have started using a soaped up pummice stone all over my body to remove all dead skin cells.seems to be helping to smooth the dkin and unblock any blocked pores.
Posted 2 years ago # -
Well I'm all blushy with the kind thoughts. But prof, whaddaya, whaddaya, what? I don't understand what you're saying - that it can't be true because I only put a bandaid on it? Or that a bandaid would be impossible to tolerate in that sensitive area? Regardless (notice, inna, I did say "REgardless"!) that's the way it happened.
And particular thanks to kat and mother - I would have appreciated the help greatly although I'm afraid if my wife couldn't have done it, then I would have been just too shy to have done it anywhere but an ER or a doctor's office. My wife is a teacher and she was a bit of a sissy when we got married. 25 years and two kids later she's not as sissified, but she will still opt out of any unpleasantness if she can. So we're both glad I was able to grapple with the problem myself.
But do you you know, in getting rid of the Angry Interior Gluteal Invader, what was almost as good as the relief of the pressure and pain? It was FEELING that explosion! It had so much pressure I could actually FEEL it pop open, and even heard a little "tick!" sound from the pop. Oh MAN! It almost gives me goosebumps even now to think of that bursting sensation.
Mother, about you nursing, when I was in school I worked a few years as what was then called an orderly, and which now would be a "male nursing assistant" I suppose. I wasn't studying in a health field, but it was pretty good money then and the hospitals were always looking for people to work on the weekend.
My crude medical skills were just a few days of in-hospital "school" and OTJ training about how to insert caths, keep a sterile field, shave for surgical prep. I was mostly just beef, doing the transferring, bathing, enema-giving, bedpanning and cleaning up for male patients. (The worst? Cleaning up the uber-obese patients after a bm. God bless 'em, I felt so sorry for them because they were just humiliated by their helplessness. I was always careful to remain cheerful with them, and make sure I played it like it was just another day at the office, no big deal. But talk about being "up to your elbows in work"! Yikes! But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know a hundred times over.)
What I learned in the job was the general "life-competence" of so many nurses. They weren't just good at their jobs, but they handled themselves well generally. Of course there were the screw-ups, flakes and the ones who liked to see how little they could get by with doing, but those types you can find in almost any job. By and large the good nurses were solid "let's get 'er done" no-nonsense women (nurses were 95% women and 4% gay males in the 70's). Nurses weren't helpless or looking to be rescued; they were usually very good in a crisis; they had a wicked sense of humor; they were tough when they had to be; and although they could act gruff, they actually had a great deal of sympathy and even love for their patients. (I hated those doctors who tried to shift the blame for their mistakes onto the nurses. I usually found that the less competent the doctor, who was almost always a male in the mid-70's, the more likely he would try to bully and blame the nurses.)
I liked and respected nurses, and I thought the profession was a pretty good place to look for a future mate in when I got ready to do that. I dated some nurses, got serious with one. But I finally married a girl who was in my other top choice of profession for a mate - teaching.
So good for you, mothereruption, for being a nurse. When the stuff hits the fan, the people we need to have around us are nurses and cops and soldiers, not models or tv news anchors or lawyers. We sometimes forget that.
EDIT: BTW, re the "hygiene" thing - a soaped-up, soft-bristled, long-handled "back brush", which isn't used on any area except down there. Never a problem in years.
Posted 2 years ago # -
Thank you ever-so-much Jumbob. I have worked in many phases of health-care. My fav. was a Dr.s small country practice right after I graduated. The worst, labor and delivery. I find it impossible for me to work with children. I take my hat off and bow very low to the ones who can. I could never get a mind-set, children become Ill just as adults do. I found myself requiring counseling in house. It was so tough to do an E.R. rotation. The weekends especially, never would fail,little ones and the elderly would come in abused. The marks are sooo evident on an abused human. "he or she fell" never worked. It's almost impossible to remain professional and not put my hands on the abuser. (e.r. should be rotated) We were able to call authorities in, that was the only relief. It seemed like a revolving door, abusers return, a beaten child, with another lie. Why oh why do the courts give the children back?? Yes some do pass away
You're work, J. Bob is very important. Never should an orderly think they are not the most important person on the team. The first link in the health care chain is cleanliness. Then nutrition, all the tasks that the orderly or aide are responsible for. They are the eyes and ears and hands on. A good conscious orderly cant be replaced. That is simply the truth. He/She needs to be paid well and respected by other's. An aide told me a long time ago, she wished her charge nurse would LISTEN to her and take her seriously. I so completely understand that. I also whole heatedly agree.
Posted 2 years ago # -
Oh man, I can hardly imagine how difficult it was to work with the very sick/badly hurt kids. I didn't stay in the field. I just paid the bills by cleaning bedpans in school, and went on to do lawyering, mostly in prosecution and intelligence (believe it or not there are an impossible number of legal issues which crop up in our own intelligence-gathering and in foreign counter-intelligence matters).
I claim this gives me the right to complain about lawyers: I believe more than any single group the legal profession has damaged this nation and completely altered its values. I like individual lawyers for their intelligence and sense of humor - at least the ones who fight it out in the courtroom are funny - but I hate what lawyers, the ABA in particular, have done to turn our nation into a bunch of complainers and wuss whiners. So many of them are absolute thieves and completely without a conscience.
There. Rant done. And now on to the search for overripe furuncular excresence.
Posted 2 years ago # -
aw, jumbob... don't get all atwitter! roughly 98% of what i write is pure joshing. the other 2%? deadly serious. the discerning friend has no difficulties figuring which is at work.
i couldn't imagine sporting a bandaid in that tender arena. that's all. your story was amazing, but that one detail kept getting in the way of my suspension of disbelief.
my family wanted me to be a medical doctor soooo bad. so i did the pre-med thing. then the nursing thing. finally, p-chem finished me off. but during that time, i did enjoy being a "patient care technician" -- first in the post-intensive neurological intensive care unit (think vegetables, though we did have one person "wake up") and then for a few years in a CCU. i became an EMT but only went on two calls. my first call was my first encounter with the phenomenon known as the "flail chest."
when people ask me how i ended up in romance studies, i feel sorry for them! "well, it all began with pre-med......"
oh, and jumbob... damn straight there are {cough} "legal issues"in our intelligence community's doings... not to mention the moral ones. but so long as we keep an attorney general or two, a white house counsel or three, on retainer to defend various amoral practices... it's all good.
i wouldn't credit the legal profession with that much influence, to say it has bankrupted anyone's values. it is a functional part of the whining trend of irresponsibility -- but i wouldn't grant it agency.
there. response to rant, done!
Posted 2 years ago # -
When I was doing a clinical rotation @ a head trauma center, one patient woke up! What a celebration!
Posted 2 years ago # -
motherE, i'll never forget the kid who managed to "come to," after about three months in coma. he lost a major portion o'brain in a scooter accident that somehow ended with his head meeting a railroad tie, up close and personal. in addition to lots of brain injury and insult, he was simply missing some crucial lobes.
he was one of four coma patients in a room that i was working -- mostly watching over vents and n/g tubes, suctioning, turning and skin care, i & o, pretty dull. there were frequent fevers and aspiration/positional pneumonias. his grandparents were there -- they came regularly. he often moved -- decerebrating, reflexes, etc. -- but began to move frenetically, to sweat, then to kind of rock. anyway, he was quasi-awake by the end of my shift that night.
his grandparents tried to give me $50. that about broke my heart.
we tried to prepare them, told them he wouldn't be the grandson they had been raising, but you can't change the hearts of loving grandparents. i went and visited him a few months later at a rehab center -- he was "fine" physically, moved all 4s, etc. and was oriented to person and place, but not to time.
mentally/emotionally, he was bad off. he was in the process of flinging feces at workers when i walked in (so glad to be *visiting*!), spewing every foul word ever invented. full of uncontrolled rage. poor kid, he just didn't have the capacity to understand.
it was very sad. i often wonder how his life went... and whether his grandparents ever regretted him "waking up." i still remember the neurosurgeon staring at him, shaking his head, saying "this can't be happening... he doesn't have enough brain."
Posted 2 years ago # -
sad story,but i know kids that behave like that and their parents think they are little darlings
for real
there is a space in this world for everyonePosted 2 years ago #
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