Oh I know his name. I'll wait until he puts his foot in it and then show it to the world, everybody does so at one point or another. Provided the useless doctors (seriously useless, I do all 'minor' medical procedures (ie the ones not requiring general anaesthesia) myself. Treat me poorly and it results in my death (not something I fear, it's the dying part I fear) or permanent damage (massive lawsuit) I'll make sure they're made to answer for their poor medical practice.
After all, when I was run over by a car (closest witness was a compulsive liar so that meant I got no claim), but dirt cheap oxies I did get since apparently people under the age of 50 don't feel pain and my doctor prescribed me low dose tramadol for what they
eventually found to be a broken leg, torn ACL, PCL and other ligaments (the first X-rays I got they X-rayed my right leg twice and tried to get me to walk on my left leg, it was only waking up screaming as I twitched and all the other patients asking nurses if I was okay did they re-check my X-rays and find that the junior doctor had X-rayed my right leg twice (to which I responded "thank fuck I only have one spine" I got a shot of morphine and eventually put on a diamorphine PCA pump (loaded with 250mg which I used all of in a week) where I could get 1mg every 5 minutes. The knee surgeon; even though I was fasted from Wednesday to Friday although the nurses knew the surgeon would only be in on Friday; I think this is because I royally embarrassed them as 3 people were calling for a nurse, which I could hear as I dragged myself into a wheelchair and wheeled up to the nurses watching TV on their tea break ignoring the people asking for a nurse due to one patient being in agony. They shouted at me (for leaving my bed) and I shouted at them for not being nurses and ignoring the people I could hear clearly asking for help. On Friday some quack knee surgeon came in and wanted to do open exploratory surgery on my knee (their MRI had broken), since I was 17 my fool of a mother signed off (promising she'd get me a laptop; what she didn't say was I'd have to pay for it) on it but since I had food stashed I started eating as much as possible to make surgery impossible, the surgeon looked like he'd been punched in the face when I offered him a sweet and said they're quite delicious. After that they tried to move me from the children's ward to the adult ward so I said I wanted to leave the hospital. I was told I'd need re-casted and to spend another night (without diamorphine) in hell.
When I finally left I went home, washed the vomit from my hair (yes, they were going to conduct open surgery on me with vomit in my hair due to doctors pinning me down and their suction machine being as good as a 90 year old hooker until I took a swing at one of them and sat up. The nurses 'cleaned' my hair though I spent the week picking solid food from it and living with the stench.
After that I went to another, better hospital where I was X-rayed, told that surgery was not required and the cast they put on me was incorrect.
Due to the NHS refusal to believe that I was (and still am) in severe pain they prescribed me tramadol so I went for oxy 80s and fentanyl instead. Essentially I'm an opiate addict due to the uselessness of the NHS. I may also have suffered from endorphin deficiency (seeing as the only sports I liked were extreme sports that gave me an endorphin rush and a nice feeling of 'normal' for a few seconds since I was a child and had always felt 'like something was missing' before I tried a sub-recreational line of oxycodone; when asked how it made me feel all I could say was 'just right' or 'normal', I don't believe the monoamine theory of depression
is all encompassing as doctors say it is and that endorphin plays a significant role. The only problem with this means that doctors would have to prescribe (shock, horror) opioids for depression. I'd go on to mention that my father hung himself when I was six (well either that or he was too fucked up to understand how a rope swing worked
, yeah I can make humour out of even my own father's death. I cut an RIP into the stump that was left of the tree yesterday. I might return with a larger tantō bladed belt knife to cut out a facade in the wood to make it more permanent then re-carve the RIP in bigger letters.
Onto my personal medical care as I hate waiting ages for simple procedures.
Stitching skin is something everyone should know, they should also know that superglue works better than stitches in quite a few of the cases. Unless the wound is a puncture wound or ragged around the edges, glue it and your body will naturally heal and push the glue up and out. They used it in Vietnam a lot until medical glue (contains the exact same stuff as £0.99 superglue does) came on the market. Only difference is the applicator and about £70. Just remember to glue the edges and leave a hole (or if gluing the whole wound cut a bandage into a thin wick and insert it into centre the wound to act as a drain for pus in case it becomes infected)
I should be getting a surgical stapler, possibly making a weak cocaine solution to numb wounds one thing I would invest in if you're an IV user, or simply want to take care of your own injuries is the CAT (combat application tourniquet though they make it in civilian orange now even though I got the cheaper 'tacticool' black model. You Velcro it on an arterial wound then use a windlass to tighten it until the bleeding stops or the distal pulse cannot be felt.
One thing to remember is that 'vetrinary grade' is exactly the same as 'surgical grade' without the taxes.
I've drained one abscess in my lifetime; not mine by simply sticking it with a scalpel then wiping up the pus with a microwaved damp facecloth then finishing with baby wipes, I didn't bother packing the wound as I knew the person would just pull the packing out He would just sit by and let his many abscesses pop with the stench of rotten meat pervading the room.
Grab up an SAS survival guide off eBay and start learning. If you ever find yourself with heat on you escape with this, a pocket chainsaw, a wire saw, a ferro rod, a full tang knife (the metal the blade is made from goes right through the grip to the end, a folding knife (of good quality steel and unlikely to fail and chop your digits off under heavy use), a lansky basic sharpening system and a lansky sapphire stone (to be kept at home, though you could take the kit minus the bench mount with you) and a few other things and you can live in the middle of feckin nowhere for quite a while. I have what the nutjob 'the end is nigh' 'call a bug out bag'
but it's more for use if I need to get away from society fast. Sometimes I'll set up a shelter in a glen close to me just so Ican look up at the stars while I drift off to sleep. I'd give a full list but this isn't really the forum for it. If you're curiou Knowing these skills have probably saved me ages in A&E.
But imo it fails to take into account the day to day realities that can mess up a taper; some of them are entirely the benzo users "fault", others not. 
