Saturday, November 30, 2013
Some people think that I may go 1/2 story more or less than the top - they may be right.
I've always been attracted to the strange and sometimes just plain weird about things that very few people know (or care) about on our earth or about our bodies.
I am going to share this weird trivia with people who drop in, stumble or just purely fall on to my Spark Page. If I've ever experienced any of the weird things about the human body, all of you who know me are already suspecting I'll have a story.
Here are the first two:
A mole can dig a tunnel 300 feet long in just one night!
It would take the average human approximately 60 days to build a tunnel that long (Assuming you didn't need to build supports or bracing for the tunnel).
The brain doesn’t feel pain: Even though the brain processes pain signals, the brain itself does not actually feel pain.
You have to be putting me on! I get migraines so bad I have to be hospitalized and usually given morphine or its equivalent to stop the pain.
It's not your brain that is hurting. The brain is processing pain signals usually associated with swelling or constriction of the blood vessels. The second most often place that causes head pain is some sort of inflammation deep in your eyes.
Yes, I've personally experienced them. Thankfully only three times in my life. I tried three different OTC pain relievers, but I learned what regular migraine sufferers know - they don't work.
The first migraine I ever experienced was when I was in the military. I woke up one morning with that, "Drat! I'm getting a headache" feeling. I took a prescription strength amount of Ibuprofen (sometimes called 'Ranger Candy'), showered and dressed. We were in the middle of an exercise, so I walked to our Operations tent, checked in with my XO and went to sick call. After a couple of tests, I was taken about 50 clicks to the nearest military medical facility (by that time, I was blind).
The emergency doc checked my out, took a skull series of x-rays, then told me I would shortly have relief because he was giving me a quarter grain of morphine.
About 5 minutes after the shot, he came in and I couldn't feel any difference - so he admitted me and administered another shot. About 10 minutes after that shot he arrived again and I told him I thought there might be a little relief because I could blink my eyes open.
Another shot of morphine was administered and he said, "I guarantee this shot will put you to sleep".
When he came to check on me about 30 minutes later, I was still awake, but my head felt like it was only a bad headache. I could open my eyes but still had to squint. The doc said, "I've given you the max dose of morphine I can give you. By rights, you should be totally unconscious. I'll order another medication and we'll see what happens from there".
When the nurse came in with the next shot (my butt was starting to feel like a pincushion) she said, (Lt. C, I've never seen ANYONE take a maximum amount of morphine and even be awake, let alone be alert, talking and still feeling pain. This medication is guaranteed to put you out for the night - and probably part of tomorrow".
When the doc came in 45 minutes later, I told him, "Thanks doc, I feel I can go back to my unit now. I can just feel a sort of ghost pain, but I'm ready to roll".
"Lieutenant, you aren't going anywhere. I'll be back shortly."
It was 2-3 minutes later when the nurse came back with a medic, and they proceeded to unlock the wheels on the bed and move me to the Intensive Care Unit. They started a saline drip, then used sandpaper to scrape a spot (well, 12 of them,actually) and attach a bunch of wires. I asked, "What is all of this for?" and in typical Med speak she tried to baffle me with as little as possible said in lay English. Using Med speak she told me the doc was holding me for observation because I might have had a TIA or I might have one developing.
I told her, "Well, it must be one developing because I can raise both arms above my head", and proceeded to do so.
Her eyes opened wide as she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. They didn't put anything in your chart to indicate you were a....a nurse?" (Doctors start out on active duty as a Captain, Nurses start as lieutenants - in that period of time, there were about 5 male nurses in the whole military.)
Laughing, I told her, "Nope, but my mother is an RN working in cardiology. When she came home, she would often talk out her days while winding down - and I listened. When she used Med speak, I'd ask her what she meant. I can bandage woulds and she taught me to give shots - I'm great with oranges, but I've never been to school for anything".
When they had me all hooked up, the doctor came in and administered another dose (I can't remember the name of what he used) through the IV.
"Well, Lieutenant, you'll be here for24 hours. There are some great nurses here to watch over you and if you need anything, just let them know." Before I could say, "Yes, sir", he had left the cubical and vanished.
That shot did work and I mentally turned out the lights and went to another dimension, far, far away.
I later learned he had written in my medical records that I had a high resistance to pain meds and I might have a high tolerance for pain. Both of those were true at the time, but whatever they use now takes less than 5 seconds to put me down for the count.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
A Paraprosdokian is a statement or joke which at the end the statement or joke, the ending is not expected or it makes you think about how the story changed and is funny. Winston Churchill was a huge fan and in private used paraprosdokians often.
This paraprosdokian may be considered off-color by some, but anyone who reads my blog knows that I am a bit off-center, so it shouldn't surprise you too much.
A bear walks into a bar in Billings, Montana and sits down. He bangs on the bar with his paw and demands a beer. The bartender approaches and says, "We don't serve beer to bears in bars in Billings."
The bear, becoming angry, demands again that he be served a beer. The bartender tells him again, more forcefully, "We don't serve beer to belligerent bears in bars in Billings."
The bear, very angry now, says, "If you don't serve me a beer, I'm going to eat that lady sitting at the end of the bar." The bartender says, "Sorry, we don't serve beer to belligerent, bully bears in bars in Billings."
The bear goes to the end of the bar, and, as promised, eats the woman. He comes back to his seat and again demands a beer. The bartender states, "Sorry, we don't serve beer to belligerent, bully bears in bars in Billings who are on drugs."
The bear says, "I'm NOT on drugs."
The bartender says, "You are now".
" That was a barbitchyouate."
Saturday, December 22, 2012
An efficiency expert concluded his lecture with a note of caution.
"You don't want to try these techniques at home." "Why not?" asked somebody from the audience.
"I watched my wife's routine at breakfast for years," the expert explained. "She made lots of trips between the refrigerator, stove, table and cabinets, often carrying a single item at a time.
One day I told her, 'Hon, why don't you try carrying several things at once?'"
"Did it save time?" the person in the audience asked. "Actually, yes," replied the expert.
"It used to take her 20 minutes to make breakfast. Now I do it in seven."
Thursday, December 20, 2012
A lawyer dies and goes to heaven. He reaches the pearly gates and is amazed to see a happy crowd all waving banners and chanting his name. After a few minutes St. Peter comes running across and says, "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you personally. God is looking forward to meeting such a remarkable man as yourself."
The lawyer is perplexed. "I've tried to lead a good life, but I am overwhelmed by your welcome," he tells St. Peter.
"It's the least we can do for someone as special as you are. Imagine, living to the age of 160 and still looking so young," says St. Peter.
The man looks even more dumbfounded and replies, "160? I don't know what you mean. I'm only 40."
St. Peter replies, "But that can't be right -
we've seen your billing sheets!"
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
My grandfather had farmed a fairly large farm south of Springfield, MO from way before my mom, his oldest daughter, was born. He was way before his time, and not even grandma could tell us why he had done it. He had a large pond in the back forty (over the hill), had it fixed up with picnic tables, two shelters, horseshoe pits, a basketball court, a big and a small grilling pit, etc. The pond was fixed for swimming when it was built and my mom, her brother and three sisters had visitors at the "Swimmin' Hole and Grilery" (when my brother and I first visited, the old wooden sign was still hanging) almost every evening in the summer as all the "youngin's" finished with evening chores and other hot and boring stuff considered important by the grown-ups (my uncle was probably the one who planted the seed of humor that has grown to a big tree with me - he called them "g r o a n - ups", with the accompanying sounds and his imitations of certain neighbor men and women).
By the time my mom had grown up, moved to California, got married and had two son's (8 and 5), my uncle had just started high school. When we visited, we were often allowed to hang around the big kids (until it got dark - I never could figure out why until many years later).
After my uncle graduated from high school, the"Swimmin' Hole" was only used the summertime when my brother and I came out to "help" grandpa at mowing time, and occasionally when some of the little brothers and sisters of the "old crowd" asked to use it. My grandfather never said "No", and slowly the kids from the other farms quit asking permission.
One evening, before my brother and I had arrived for the summer (we'd gotten that two weeks gradually stretched out to two weeks after school ended until two weeks before it started), grandpa decided to go down to the pond and make sure the overflow was clean (the pond was fed by a small spring) and the cows had kept the grass cropped down (so you wouldn't inadvertently step on a copperhead or cottonmouth water moccasin).
My uncle (who told us this story) was with him that evening.
As they neared the pond, they heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As they came closer they saw it was a bunch of young high school and college girls from around the area, skinny-dipping in the pond. Grandpa made the young women aware of their presence and the girls all went to the deep end of the pond.
One of the girls shouted to him, "We're not coming out until you leave! Go away Mr. Taylor, and you too, Jimmy!"
My uncle had no idea what came over grandpa that night, but grandpa yelled right back, "I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim or make you get out of my pond, I only came to feed my alligators."
He didn't have a burlap sack in his hands, nor was he carrying a bucket, but the girls (OK, young women) heard "alligators" and they nearly walked on water to get to their clothes and into their cars. (Alligators aren't native to southern Missouri, but sometimes someone would bring a couple of gators up from Louisiana. If they were able to make a gator nest, they could survive until they got big enough to start bothering stock. Then someone would take Mister's Smith and Wesson out to introduce to the gators.
My uncle never could tell the story without cracking up, and when he was telling stories with the other men with their pint canning glasses filled with "wwwater" (that's what they called the moonshine a neighbor always brought), grandpa's face would get darker (red looks darker in the moonlight) and he'd "take a walk and stretch my legs - just for a bit".
Dang. Wish I could have been there to see all those silly girls running around and screaming.
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