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  1. #11

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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Checking in: how you doing, battlefields?

  2. #12
    hungryjoe's Avatar
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Holy **** battlefields. Just saw this thread. How about an update?

    I know you'll come through mate. Only the good die young.

  3. #13

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    Quote Originally Posted by hungryjoe View Post
    Only the good die young.
    This implies you are going to live forever, Joe.

  4. #14
    battlefields's Avatar
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Update.

    Just so everyone is clear, in the coma I was also put on a respirator, so for 8-10 days I was immobile and had something breathing for me. The perfect time to call me a lazy POS. Later I was informed that for every day in a coma, you will require 11 days of recovery. So I was looking at a lot of recovery. The atrophy I experienced while in the coma meant I had to relearn how to stand up, walk, etc. You wouldn't think that it would have that effect after only 8-10 days, but it is amazing how quickly your body cannibalises itself.

    For someone who was training 4-5 days a week up until he went into hospital, being told that I was going to need assistance to stand up felt like a joke to begin with. I looked at the nurse like she had something wrong with her when they said they were going to get me to stand up and do a little walking. Fucking easy, I thought, how patronising!

    "Okay, so we're going to get you to swing your legs over the side of the bed and then sit up..."

    Face screwed up with an impression that said, "**** off, this is easy!" only to find that it wasn't as easy as I initially thought, but still...

    "...and then you'll need to place your hands on the bed and use them to push off the...no, don't grab the frame and pull up, you are to push off the bed..."

    Pfft, I thought, basic. I'm going to be the ICU's MVP the way everyone was carrying on. Went to stand up and my core did not move. They were right, my body had forgotten how to stand up. I had to consciously engage my hips and legs and arms and everything only to stand up, wobble, and have to sit back down. They tested my blood oxygen levels and it had nosedived, so needed to take a rest for the day.

    Now, I'm not sure if you can read between the lines, but I lost a shitload of dignity in that joint. I have been, shall we say, "cleaned" by cute women in their early 20s. At 34 years old, these young women are still possibilities in the dating game for me. Not these ones in particular anymore. Ah well. I think the worst instance was one particular instance where I said to my dad that I needed to go to the toilet. At this point I'd been "assisted" by one of two orderlies, two big blokes who were good value with their humour, to a seat near the bed that held a bedpan underneath it. Unfortunately I heard the trainee nurse platoon too late and my dad had already engaged the trainer nurse to assist me. So there I am with four very cute young women assisting me with my business from go to woe. I was so fucking angry at my dad for the rest of the day for that.

    Anyway, I started improving and was moved to the normal wards, attached with a bit of a reputation that had gone around the hospital, the guy whose throat closed over, was put in a coma and had been in ICU for more than a week. I also gained a reputation for being incredibly difficult to make unconscious, that I drank up their drugs like a sponge and that there were points where they were so sure that they had enough dosage that when I soaked that up and was still awake, they freaked out as they had to go get more. Anyway, that comes into play later.

    So yeah, was on a ward after ICU for about a week afterwards, which was fucked because I had to deal with people from the general public. I'm not a snob, I've lived in some shitty areas and known some people who you could describe as being of unable to remove themselves from their socio-economic class through no fault of their own except their IQ level, but these took it to the next level and honestly, I have sooo much respect for nurses and doctors in a Public hospital. Here's a quick description of two men in my ward:

    1. An Aboriginal bloke, about 40-45 years old. This guy was an arrogant **** who would regularly call the nurses and doctors names with the most annoying voice in the world. I learnt over the course of my tenure in this ward that the gentleman had cirrhosis of the liver but had decided that he had already outlived his life-expectancy (in Australia, unfortunately due to a range of medical issues, including drugs and alcohol, our indigenous population has a chronically low life expectancy), so he kept drinking. In his own words, "you'll never stop me drinkin' cheap wine, luv" to a nurse. He was also a gigantic piece of **** to the other ward members, but I have a magical knack of endearing people to me early on so I never had a problem with him directly, other than his whiny nasal voice that grated me in the end like I have never experienced.

    2. A Caucasian bloke who was so institutionalised that every single person that visited the ward, spoke to him on the phone, or even glanced in his direction received his story. And considering my proximity and at one stage inability to even move without requiring one orderly and a doctor/ nurse, I had the chance to relive this man's injury and subsequent treatment many times over, including knowing in depth how maggot treatment works on a Type 1 diabetes patient that had his foot go gangrenous. At times while I was about to try to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

    I was actually initially in another ward for about 10 hours, during which another bloke was introduced to the ward. This bloke was the biggest wanker I have ever heard, due to his insistence on referring to his girlfriend as "my baby girl", "baby princess" and the nursing staff as "darlin'" in that smarmy sly way that'd make any dude cringe, but somehow melted the nurses after a short period of time. I deduced, by the things he spoke about and how he spoke about them, that he was a bikie in a small town just south of the state border. Big man in a little pond, so could hear his girlfriend fawning over him like he was King Dingaling. What I didn't know was that the woman that emerged from behind the curtain that had separated us until this point was not the girlfriend. After a couple of "how are you" pleasantries, I mentioned that her man "seemed to be doing okay".

    "Well," she said, pointing at a ring on her wedding finger and leaning in close, lowering her voice that had ZERO effect in a hospital room separated by curtains, "that woman in there is his girlfriend, but I am his wife and I want him to come home with me tonight, but it is hard to convince him because she is here..."

    I suddenly became witness to a real life, shitty, Real Housewives of Low Socio-Economic Areas Of New South Wales and Queensland. I sat through her story incredulously, like, lady, **** me drunk, you know your bikie ex-husband can hear you, right? Like, I know there has been technological advancements in the world of medical equipment, but I'm yet to hear of a hospital using sound proof curtains in their wards.

    Anyway, I wish he did go with her, because once she left, this other ditsy bitch ended up asking him, "aw babe, can you put on that aftershave I love" to which he proceeded to gas the ward with the very scent you have imagined a smarmy POS bikie **** that calls his girlfriend "baby princess" would wear. He also managed to get into an argument with the head nurse about his girlfriend staying with him on ward or else he was going to walk out of the hospital "like this, I swear I will." He was referring to the paper underwear he was provided after the removal of 20+ skin cancers. If it was me, he'd be walking to the car in those underwear, but I was still terribly atrophied and didn't want to cause dramas.

    During the argument mentioned above, I called a nurse in because I was trapped in the bed, the bars had been put up and I just wanted to go to the toilet which was less than 2 metres from my bed. Well, this nurse came flying around the corner and abruptly asked, "what you wan?"

    She was Asian. I was already flustered by the abruptness, but managed to politely ask, "how do I get these bars down?"

    "YOU DON'T, YOU NEED HELP, WHAT YOU WAN? NUMBA 1, NUMBA 2? WHAT YOU WAN?"

    Pissed off that now the whole ward, with visitors, know that I am looking to go to the toilet, I manned up like my masculinity was in question and promptly and firmly said, "it's okay, I don't need to go just yet."

    The bikie prick kept re-upping his aftershave every hour or so, eventually it became too much for this pneumonia suffering patient. He was a tiny bloke, probably around 5'6", maybe smaller, but I wasn't in fighting form, so around 1:30am I eventually succumbed to the desire to breathe and called the nurse. On my phone's screen I typed out, "TOO MUCH COLOGNE, PLEASE MOVE ME TO ANOTHER WARD" so that I could move without having to cause drama for anyone else.

    The nurse came back and said, "we have another room but there is a guy in it who is agitated, " while looking at me like I was a weirdo for suggesting the gassing I felt I was receiving from the cologne, now visible in the air, wasn't as bad as someone saying **** every so often. I replied, "are you kidding? I need to be able to breathe," completely stunned that this cologne drenched ************ had completely charmed this full grown woman to be fine with the air being thick enough that NATO has since banned that brand of aftershave use as a war crime.

    Anyway, the agitated bloke they were talking about was the first one I described. The first night there was another old bloke in there who seemed harmless as ****, hippy-type, but the Aboriginal bloke just had it in for him. It was hilarious to listen to the guy go off at this hippy, so much so I took my earplugs out to listen in.

    "You fucking piece of ****, you fucking suck, look at you, I'm going to punch you in your stupid fucking face..."

    In the most pathetic voice ever, "if you keep threatening me, I'm going to tell the nurse!"

    I don't know how people like that survive.

    It really pissed me off that I wasn't able to hit the pisser by myself, so the next day I was up and ready for the Physio nurses. Motivated, I quickly improved my physicality and was signed off that I could do everything myself, which meant no more assistance in the toilet, thank ****. Anyway, finally got off the ward and sent home after a number of changes in the meds I was taking, in order to make sure I was mending. My rehab was initially to make it up and down the stairs at home, blow some bubbles with a bubble blowing device, and walk as much as possible.

    Four days after getting home, and starting to get into a routine, I ended up craving salt and vinegar chips (crisps, potato chips) as up until then it was yoghurt, fruit, and that was about it. I just wanted something savoury. Anyway, purchased a bag and ate a fraction of it, then went to sleep catching up on Game of Thrones because the new season was to start the next week.

    Woke up and figured the chips weren't digesting. In ICU it was pointed out to the doctors that, while I am a fat ************, my belly is not a purple basketball and it was discovered I had severe digestion issues. This fuelled my theoretical "indigestion" and so I ate some yoghurt, drank Yakult, and tried readjusting my seated position to assist the "digestive flow" (another of my theories). Seven hours later I was still in discomfort that appeared to be getting worse, and breathing had begun to hurt.

    I remembered this story of a bloke who woke up in absolute agony at home and convinced his mum to take him to the hospital, they went in and signed in for an emergency doctor. While in the waiting room the bloke let out a gigantic fart and felt 100% better. I couldn't get that out of my head, despite being at a point where every little breath had begun causing agony. I checked if I could even simply lie down and I couldn't without pain, so I packed a bag properly, and again my housemate took me to ER. By the time I got to the Triage nurse, every breath was creating absolute agony, but I was still clinging to the idea that it was some sort of salt and vinegar digestion issue.

    "It's...ah ****... probably...owww...just someth...thing...argh... to do with... I'm sorry...argh..." was something like how I spoke with the nurse.

    They hit me up with some Ibuprofen and I looked at them and laughed, saying, "um, have you read my file, I literally just left here four days ago, I was in a coma and even those drugs weren't strong enough for me."

    They had read the file, but nurses aren't doctors and thus can't give hardcore drugs without sign off. Eventually they came along with fentanyl and I enjoyed drifting in and out for a few hours.

    The next day I had a CT scan that required me to be food and drug free for a period of time. A test I'd had earlier on my blood came back with a marker for clots. On the way to and in the CT machine I was in agony, every breath out was like a dagger in my side. I was desperate for pain relief but no one seemed to be listening to me, despite the fact I was practically screaming, and apologising for screaming, about the pain I was in.

    The doctor came up and said, "we're getting you some pain meds right now that will sort this out, plus, we're getting you a PCA, and here take this, you have clots in your lungs and this will thin your blood."

    The nurse then rocked up with a huge syringe of Ketamine. I was in agony, but know how good Ket is so was interested how I'd go with what appeared to be 300ml of it. Unfortunately or fortunately, I don't know, but I only got a portion of the Ketamine, large enough that it washed away the pain and almost sent me on a bit of a mind trip, but I held on because of fear of losing myself back to the Dark Hallucinations.

    My respiratory doctor was a cute woman from Canada who noticed that I was having a mini freak out from being informed about the blood clots. My main problem is I've seen House MD, I know what a blood clot on the lung means, I know it means that I am now a high risk potential for a stroke now, I saw that episode! I said to her, probably wide eyed and terrified, "but pulmonary embolism!" Up until this point nobody had given it that name, it was a passive, "oh, just clots on the lung". She ended up realising I had some idea of the ramifications of lung clots. She firmly said, "Battle," because I have legally changed my first name, "two weeks ago you were nearly dead. This, this pulmonary embolism, this we can treat easily."

    Okay. I then was put in a room on the Cancer Ward by myself, the result of a lack of beds in the hospital. My PCA, Personal Something Something, that allowed me to regulate my own fentanyl intake. Which was fun. I was released from there about a week later. All in all, about a month in hospital.

    Since then I've been informed that I have Lupus Anticoagulant, which is a misnomer on two parts, one, I don't have Lupus and it is not related to Lupus, and the anticoagulant is a prothrombotic agent, which I'm sure we are all acutely familiar with so provided there is absolutely no follow up questions, I'm not going to go over the same **** we all know. According to the doc, this diagnosis could be a "false positive" due to a number of factors, but it means that I have to be on blood thinners for another 3 months minimum, 6 months if they confirm it, or possibly even longer.

    The good thing is I have been cleared to wrestle, so tomorrow night I'm back on the mat...
    GET A RED BELT OR DIE TRYIN'.
    Quote Originally Posted by Devil View Post
    I think Battlefields and I had a spirited discussion once about who was the biggest narcissist. We both wanted the title but at the end of the day I had to concede defeat. Can't win 'em all.
    Quote Originally Posted by BackFistMonkey View Post
    I <3 Battlefields...

  5. #15
    cualltaigh's Avatar
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by battlefields View Post
    The good thing is I have been cleared to wrestle, so tomorrow night I'm back on the mat...
    I know it goes without saying but take it easy mate
    Dum spiro, spero.
    Tada gan iarracht.

  6. #16
    battlefields's Avatar
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    I'm pretty sure everyone will treat me with kid gloves for a bit.
    GET A RED BELT OR DIE TRYIN'.
    Quote Originally Posted by Devil View Post
    I think Battlefields and I had a spirited discussion once about who was the biggest narcissist. We both wanted the title but at the end of the day I had to concede defeat. Can't win 'em all.
    Quote Originally Posted by BackFistMonkey View Post
    I <3 Battlefields...

  7. #17

    Join Date
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by battlefields View Post
    I'm pretty sure everyone will treat me with kid gloves for a bit.
    If not - cough all over them and infect them....

  8. #18
    battlefields's Avatar
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Clots are surprisingly ineffective when it comes to infection.
    GET A RED BELT OR DIE TRYIN'.
    Quote Originally Posted by Devil View Post
    I think Battlefields and I had a spirited discussion once about who was the biggest narcissist. We both wanted the title but at the end of the day I had to concede defeat. Can't win 'em all.
    Quote Originally Posted by BackFistMonkey View Post
    I <3 Battlefields...

  9. #19
    ermghoti's Avatar
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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by battlefields View Post
    I have been, shall we say, "cleaned" by cute women in their early 20s. At 34 years old, these young women are still possibilities in the dating game for me. Not these ones in particular anymore. Ah well.
    You never know, depends what they're into.

    Congrats on continuing to not die.
    "Systema, which means, 'the system'..."

    Quote Originally Posted by strikistanian View Post
    DROP SEIONAGI ************! Except I don't know Judo, so it doesn't work, and he takes my back.
    Quote Originally Posted by Devil
    Why is it so goddamn hard to find a video of it? I've seen videos I'm pretty sure are alien spacecraft. But still no good Krav.
    Quote Originally Posted by Plasma
    At the point, I must act! You see my rashguard saids "Jiu Jitsu vs The World" and "The World" was standing in front me teaching Anti-Grappling in a school I help run.
    [quote=SoulMechanic]Thank you, not dying really rewarding in more ways than I can express.[/[quote]

  10. #20

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    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    WOW

    I just read that whole story and I'm glad you're on a road to recovery. The mind is so interesting and I was immersed in your story as if I was in your shoes. I'm glad you were able to shake off the dark hallucinations and then the hallucination that you were on the country side with Maori?

    Btw, didn't the CT scan feel weird? I got one a few weeks ago and the injected Iodine is such an odd (but kinda cool) feeling.

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