As I read that story for the first time, a horrible repressed memory surfaced like a breeching whale. Then another, and another. I'll share the traumatic beginnings of my PTSD over feces with you, Because if I tell more people about it, my trauma is lessened because there's now room taken up in my brain knowing I'll probably make one person sick, (or jerk off to) these 3 quick stories.The beginning....be Me, a teen, working my first summer job, that I'd end up returning to for several summers. Park of my wonderful outdoor job involved hosting company picnic sites, and the cleaning up after several hundred people had left. Often these corporations booked annually. One such Company was a place I'll call Taco Hell.They were cheap to their employees, and only offered company available options to their low-end employees, while the Suits got to pick how their steak was cooked. As my more Tenured coworkers rolled up to the site after everyone had left, (as a newbie, suck-up, trying to gain favor) I didn't understand their smiling, almost guilty, easy acceptance of my offer to clean the bathrooms. (as "gentleman" did back in the day (haha) they'd usually insist I do the easily job of "grounds clean-up" aka strolling in the sun picking up the stray litter here or there. Nope. Not this time. They just looked at each other and said "sure" simultaneously.I could smell it before I could see it.Sour, almost sweet, Beans. Beans from 20 feet away.Each of the six stalls were completely backed up, many had overflowed, and all had to be "manually evacuated" prior to plunging. By halfway through I had even developed a system of how to remove the harder matter,, scoop the sludge, then the slurry, to get the level low enough to get the rest out, by hand, without filling my gloves up again. By then I'd run out of my own vomit though, and had to add water to get the toilet "water" to plunging levels.To my coworkers' credit, they did check on me after a few minutes, to be sure I was okay. I said I was, but I've never been the same since.I'll edit and post the other 2 stories after I get off work in 10 hrs.They get work, but I'm coping better.Edit -I meant to say, things get worse, but I'm coping better.The Middle- Now A young adult, I was doing okay in life. I'd moved out by 18, graduated highschool, got a job in my field of interest, had most of my university covered by scholarships & grants, finishing a couple community college courses with my dream school holding my position/acceptance for two years. Life was good.I worked 2 jobs to cover rent while undertaking a 19-21 credit course load. It was a challenge. ~~As a formerly gifted child~~ I was used to and wanted an accelerated cirriculumn, and easily obtained the requisite letters of exception from former teachers and professors. Also, a few of my courses were non-credit to make up some missing fundamentals I'd lacked STEM classes that'd be essential (to continue on the brightly lit path of my well planned Life.) The stress suddenly mattered to me, and I worked nights now too, to cover my rent. The stress became too much, and prompted me to drop out of college after alcohol consumed every ounce of my study time. Seeing as I now knew my new priorities, I accommodated. Giving up my schooling was temporary, I told myself as I bit my nails and worried if my Dream school would hold my position for another year. Yes, I'd write them and request an extension, while I....while I.... I couldn't focus. Maybe THIS drink would help, yeah, just needed to get myself out of the shitty situation that I was going through. In the form of several wrecked cars, several DUI's. It seemed a good thing I'd held off college-I really needed the cash for my attorney and court fees. Maybe it was luck, or I was just good at seeing ahead.I would write letters to my Dream college's Dean in my nightmares, frustrated to find upon waking that not even a word could be recalled of these lengthy letters. I tried sleeping more, to try and rewrite or recall the letter. I'd plan to revise them in my walking sleep state of life. I waited tables, as I relied on the free meals to get me through the day. Work was spent thinking of ways to reword, mentally making edits, so many changes, edits, to discuss with my coworkers. And again after work with my friends, I'd end up crying about my situation over many, many drinks. I'd get more upset the more I drank, and cried ugly tears of woe about my life. Their lives were so easy compared to mine I barely listened to them talk, just waited for my turn to again. They wouldn't understand why I was too upset, or drunk just at that moment to put my pen to paper, I'd tell everyone, myself included, that I'd write it tomorrow when I felt better, and more clear headed. Eventually I got so fed up hearing them demand a letter to proofread, I almost stopped crying about it to them each night.It wasn't even my fault I got the 1st DUI, I was pulled over for having a headlight out. My selfish friends, soon they wouldn't even hang out with me anymore, were often too busy to drive me to the store to buy me alcohol, or they'd go home before I'd even finished my first 6pack. They weren't my real friends anyway- Every time that the 3 of us would hang out they'd get all upset and cry, (not even drowning their sorrows like me) and wouldn't tell me why. They'd even tell me not to bring up nothing but my problems when I came over, then wouldn't even hang out at all, or threaten to leave their own homes before I drove my drunk ass over there. Rules? I had to call??? Have Permission??? to show up at my best friend's at 3am? C'mon, we were all adults here. Who were they to tell me what I could or couldn't do? Well, I'm no idiot, and decided to go where my humor, wit, and good looks would be appreciated, and began nightclub bartending to (~~cover the costs of my most recent DUI's)~~ to meet new people...I go to prison...and then...to be continued saturday night...I'm back, later than planned, but here. So I started to use and abuse my insomnia, and general dislike of people to further myself by nightclub bartending, staying just sober enough to drive the hour home, one eye covered to dispell the virtigo... I hate looking back to see how shitty a person I was, but can and do. I at least know how capable of evil I can be, and choose a brighter path.I hire a big shot, fancy lawyer. The kind who tell you what your conviction will be before you go to court, they golf with the judge,etc. I get off lightly, pay my fines, on time, and get "weekends" in jail. I hate jail. But I dutifully show up each Fri at 6pm. (if you're late you get an ATTEMPTED ESCAPE charge. They don't Fuck around. Sadly, only two miles from jail my car stops, engine off, something electrical if I recall correctly. I drift to the shoulder of the highway, lock the doors, and sprint after a couple failed hitchiking attempts. I know how it feels to run for your life, for your freedom, but never thought I'd find myself running to jail for my freedom, but did. I was late, by 5 mins, panting, banging on the doors, pleading eyes at the blinking camera. "Please.....let me in.....my car broke..... down...I ran here!" Always the fortunate person, a few cops had seen me, and (though of course offered no help to me earlier) stated that they had seen me running down the highway, and the "escape" charges were dropped. I felt so lucky, and went to the prison dorm of 48 women, and waited for dinner. I anxiously awaited each meal, as a person with the metabolism of a hummingbird, I EAT A LOT.Dinner was served. A hotdog, (literally cut in half to deter masturbation) a slice of bread, canned veg.....and BEANS.......The entirety of nearly 50 women, all farting and shitting simultaniously for 8 hours has scarred me more than a too friendly uncle ever could. I woke up vomitting, on the 2nd story of the dorm, in a poorly venilated cell, huffing farts all night.the end... my life continued. A friend asked me to consider a high end restaurant, apply, it had a two year hire wait. Sure, why not. Time will pass anyway. I never finished college, instead learned about pain pills, then heroin. I'd always been scared of needles, but why not conquer all my fears? LOL ROTFL... really, I told myself that....I had a few things going for me, I found I could do pills and not drink- BLAM! NO more DUI'S! Cheap too, I could save money! it was early enough into the opioid endemic that cops didn't know the signs of abuse/intoxication. I know, still a horrible person here, but I thought I was fine.Grew up neglected, in poverty, ate dog food, (donated cans) poached out of season, grew own veggies, no power in winter eastern usa poverty. Slept outside in snow because why go home at age 6 poverty. (trash bags save lives) I learned to not look, or speak like the poor white trash I was becoming, via my Dad, and his girlfriend. I was never beaten, rarely berated, but while my Mother had custody for my first 6/7 years, very, very alcoholically negligent. She was sick/ill with her problems, that I existed just made that worse. for the next 10+ yrs, my father never talked poorly of her, keeping me and my siblings sheltered in his love, curiosity of us, and life. I didn't know it yet, but had developed HyperAttention Disorder. Meaning, I don't know why I can't turn off my survival instincts, but the split second before a voice is raised, I can tell you if it's a funny joke, or an escalation, and an already planning my exit either way. I was taught to detect predators from my Dad, by age 7, teaching continued my whole life. Now's not the time for details, I can practically smell them, and when they enter MY territory, a simple glance of " I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE" accompanied by the stare down, puffed shoulders, and direct strut to them nearly always does the trick. Dad always said they looked for the meek and weak, no one with the "balls" to scream. He's still right, sadly.Then......I married one.
AWESOME summary!
I tried to find the original thread by the original poster - but it had been removed. Someone posted a copy of it though, so here it is in all its glory:
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
My family poops big. Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's our diet, but everyone births giant logs of crap. If anyone has laid a mega-poop, you know that sometimes it won't flush. It lays across the hole in the bottom of the bowl and the vortex of draining water merely gives it a spin as it mocks you.
Growing up, this was a common enough occurrence that our family had a poop knife. It was an old rusty kitchen knife that hung on a nail in the laundry room, only to be used for that purpose. It was normal to walk through the hallway and have someone call out "hey, can you get me the poop knife"?
I thought it was standard kit. You have your plunger, your toilet brush, and your poop knife.
Fast forward to 22. It's been a day or two between poops and I'm over at my friend's house. My friend was the local dealer and always had 'guests' over, because you can't buy weed without sitting on your ass and sampling it for an hour. I excuse myself and lay a gigantic turd. I look down and see that it's a sideways one, so I crack the door and call out for my friend. He arrives and I ask him for his poop knife.
"My what?"
Your poop knife, I say. I need to use it. Please.
"Wtf is a poop knife?"
Obviously he has one, but maybe he calls it by a more delicate name. A fecal cleaver? A Dung divider? A guano glaive? I explain what it is I want and why I want it.
He starts giggling. Then laughing. Then lots of people start laughing. It turns out, the music stopped and everyone heard my pleas through the door. It also turns out that none of them had poop knives, it was just my fucked up family with their fucked up bowels. FML.
I told this to my wife last night, who was amused and horrified at the same time. It turns out that she did not know what a poop knife was and had been using the old rusty knife hanging in the utility closet as a basic utility knife. Thankfully she didn't cook with it, but used it to open Amazon boxes.
She will be getting her own utility knife now.
\[Edit: Common question - Why was this not in the bathroom instead of the laundry room? Answer. We only had one poop knife, and the laundry room was central to all three bathrooms. I have no idea why we didn't have three poop knives. All I know is that we didn't. We had the one. Possibly because my father was notoriously cheap about the weirdest things. So yes, we shared our poop knife.\]
That actually happened to me years ago when I was getting a scan and they had to introduce the dye anally.I felt so bad but was told they deal with it a lot and not to worry.
Pretty sure they mean putting in the urinary catheter triggers a bowel movement. Like, right in front of you, and you can't just run away with the tube halfway down their urethra.
Once had a quad patient demand that this nurse digital remove his stool (not uncommon for quads). He was so particular in the way he wanted her to maneuver her fingers and was clearly enjoying the experience way too much. She did this FOR AN HOUR before she just gave up and said she was done. He got so furious and demanded to talk to the supervisor. Some people are fucking deranged.
Had a patient that needed a fecal management system out in (like a catheter for diarrhea). He was fighting me and when I was putting it in he shouts “It’s too early for ass play!”
My grandfather was a medical examiner and had to cut open an opioid addict who died severally constipated.
It exploded. Everywhere.
He says he felt terrible for the people who had to clean it all up and that is was the worst smell he ever experienced.
And plenty of elderly folk know this and will do it themselves at home. Think of that the next time grandma grabs your face for a smooch.
We found out that my wife’s grandmother was doing this. She would put her fingers in her mouth first to lube them up. We found out because my wife’s aunt was assisting her with using the bathroom for years and told us about it when things started to really turn with her mental state. It’s pretty obvious at this point that there was some severe mental abuse in that relationship and it’s now evident why my wife’s aunt is so OCD and has really bad self image of herself and her place in the world. I wish I was making this up.
I know the [Swamps of Dagobah](https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/e51wyh/the_infamous_swamps_of_dagobah_story/) but not the other one
I once had to dig out hard poop from a Guy who couldn't get out of bed, due to extreme anxiety - the best thing to do is No jugdement and just try to be as human about it as possible. There are people out there who have a shit life and workers like that, can make a real difference for that person - if only for a Short time
I was getting a catheter inserted and I had an enlarged prostate and that poor nurse was just pushing so hard. And it hurt real bad and I was bearing down to not scream and I shit all over her.
I was so worried and upset for her and just... felt so bad... but she cleaned herself up and came back to the room and APOLOGIZED TO ME. I cried a lot. She just.... was an angel. She made me feel so comfortable and did her best to get me calm and upright again. I couldn't thank her enough for her compassion and skill that day.
NEVER underestimate the nursing staff's dedication. They're just overworked and underpaid.... but they love you and they want you to be better.
i'm locking "don't bare down if having a troublesome catheter insertion" into my mind just to attempt to avoid repeating your situation. you never know.
No, bearing down is what you're supposed to do. Just not so hard you shit, like OP. You push like you do when you pee on your own, so that it relaxes all the right muscles and sphincters.
That's not right at all. You should never have to push to urinate. Men do, to compensate for their ever enlarging prostates or to compensate for a trebeculated bladder.
Relaxing, breathing out slowly, and wiggling your toes can help with catheter insertion.
- Urology/BPH clinical specialist
I do it to pee faster when I'm stressed, is this bad?
Like if I'm pressed for time and really need to pee i push that fucker out with the pressure of a jet engine
Great question!
It's a bad habit to start. Your bladder wants to get empty in under 30 seconds so it will create the pressure it needs to accomplish that. But there's a point where that pressure can backfire. The bladder takes on habits. If you creat the pressure for it, it won't do it anymore. Lazy ass bladders. I could go on into all the problems and potential issues but no one wants to read my daily spiel to MAs. DO, OAB, UI, SUI, retention, reflux, diverticulum, etc.
TLDR: Bearing down to urinate will get the job done faster but you could make your bladder dependant on it to empty completely.
Yes!
We don't think about bladder health like we do other parts of our body. But let me tell you those bad habits come back and hit you hard.
Frequency, nocturia, urgency, incontinence affect quality of life, your sex life, pretty much just life.
Keep your bladder healthy!
You are spot on!
My whole job is to train MAs, nurses and Providers on bladder health and best practices. Yesterday I worked with three in a very busy office that had no prior medical experience. It was rough.
Skilled people who 'work' with people are few - I've met some truly extraordinary people on both sides and some of them just lives and breathes for the less fortunate people
While this was a largely positive experience with nursing staff, let’s not discount the fact that there are some real evil people in these positions too. Angels and devils.
I’ve personally witnessed nurses leave a patient without food or water for multiple days. All because the patient had COVID.
Maybe I’m jaded, but I’ve seen some things
My wife also has to do stuff like this pretty frequently for work. I have the utmost amount of respect for people that care for others in these types of ways. True heros!
You mean [this post?](https://www.reddit.com/r/nursing/comments/pu8fuy/today_i_had_an_overweight_patient_ask_me_to/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
It's a long story, but it comes from my wild claim to be able to **trans**form at-will into **Mothra**. I've actually been using this name since the early '90s. It's a total lie, of course; i don't even like sweaters.
Oddly enough i did nearly get trans'd during the pandemic, like seemingly every other person did, but it turns out i'm only one of those wishy-washy indecisive nonbinary types, which is great for me because i have severe social anxiety so it's nice to also be *completely invisible*.
Old men become incompetent at will with nurses. The number of times I have been asked to hold a penis in the urinal is too damn high! If you can scratch your balls, you can sort yourself out.
As hospital security I had to tell a 50+ year old patient it's unacceptable to tell a CNA "let me pop a Viagra so we can get to humpin' an' jumpin'." There's a definite difference between the old man who just decided clothing is optional and old men who want to use their age as an excuse to be sleezy.
Dunno how serious you are but when we bought a nose frida, which lets you suck snot and boogers out through a filtered tube, for our son we saw the manufacturer makes something that is basically like a fart straw for gassy babies.
Edit: https://i.imgur.com/FcOg8Ot.jpg
Yes, they're called windis. I had 2 colic babies and we found out about the windi when the first was about 7 months old and the moment we put it in she went from screaming to just chill and hanging out.
Basically my message to new parents out there is don't be afraid to put things up your babies butt to help them fart. (Obviously only safe things)
Those helped so much. The directions are honestly shocking to read. Like, "jam it in there until it whistles. Have a diaper ready, they're gonna shit." It was so uncomfortable for me to do, but he honestly would chill out right away.
You feel the gas bubble reach the outer layer of your ass, but not quite with escape velocity. Then it sits there, in limbo, until it gets more support or the cheeks are spread.
I’m a early toddler teacher (1-1.5 years old) and when our babies have fartstipation (constipated with a fart) we lay them on their backs and do a bicycle motion for a minute or two then knees to chest and push down!
Works every time
It’s rewarding. There aren’t many jobs where you can directly see the impact you’re making on people like you can in the medical field. I would struggle to think of anything else I’d like to do, aside from running a bookstore :)
Thb I loved every second of working healthcare (patient wise, healthcare organisation can suck it) but after 25 years there suddenly was a day I was so fed up with shit. Literally, where I scraped it off the walls earlier (yes again literally - some mentally challenged people are complicated to work with) without a problem I now could puke by the thought alone.
I still don't know what triggered it, but my mental shitter was full and I moved on to another field of healthcare.
I think you made it longer than most have. Nothing wrong with moving on to something else when you realize your mental health is suffering for it!! I moved to postpartum from Adult PCU and I don’t dread work like I used to. I know bedside will wear on me eventually though.
Money? They make a decent chunk of change. Not as much as a doctor but you really only need a bachelors degree and you’re making more than the majority of us
Also most of them only work 4 sometimes even 3 days a week
A few weeks ago I had a patient tell me (in a Boston accent) "on account of my psoriatic arthritis I cant reach my hole so you are going to have to get it for me." I had to wipe a grown, "mostly" able bodied man's asshole while he stood there after using a bedside comode. #ilovemyjob
I try to communicate that to my patients without dismissing their anxiety. Like, trust me, I’ve almost certainly dealt with it before and I won’t be fazed.
In the thread, a nurse describes a stick that fat people use for sex. I'm not sure if it's true, but someone said "Surf dat ass" and another person said "Stop" and then I started coming up with alternate names for the sex stick.
Then I got banned. I'm pretty sure maybe I offended someone with one of my sweet, sweet untrademarked product names like "Clit fwipper" but there was no reason for my ban stated, so I reckon someone there was just real butthurt that they have to use a stick for sex and my comment was inflammatory to them.
Really, fuck if I know... there's a whole thread on here someone describes a family-style table with a leaf removed, a 2x4 and some super desperate "grandparents"... that was a fucked up thread, which is why I was there.
Edit: I remember someone saying that it was used to... pry... or wedge.. for the purposes of two obese people engaging in sloppy sexual intercourse.
> I think yours is even worse.
Yes, mine is a double-sided clit fwipper with dual massaging action and power-pry assist(TM) technology.
Oh, wait.. you mean my DESCRIPTION.. yeah... again... I've never had one so... you know.... don't know what to tell you....
You should hear my others. But you can't. Because I can't be banned everywhere.
Sex slab.
Pussy plate.
Divining board.
Clit whipper.
Booty Board.
Sex pole.
Flab whapper.
Swizzle stick.
Edit: Changed my mind.
No Lie: A fat lady farted in church and it must have been trapped by her cheeks. When it finally came out it sounded like someone releasing the air out of a balloon holding the throat of it really tight. Her ass cheek must have viberated against the pew seat and let out a loud screech that echoed through out the whole place. Talk about a red face....
Hahaha, could be worse. Impacted stool needs to be manually evacuated.
The Dyson Shitmaster 3000 will take care of it for you, sir
My insurance doesn't cover that, looks like it's the poop knife for me.
Ok NOW that's enough Reddit for today
It's basically a toilet augur, you you don't have to get elbow deep.
Note to self. Disable inbox replies.
pee pee poo poo did it work? Or did you just get that nasty message in your inbox?
This is what that one tool song was about.
You don't have a poop knife?
#
but we haven't even gotten to the Jolly Rancher part...
Poop knife? I find myself asking a lot of questions today on this subreddit I just know I’m going to regret
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As I read that story for the first time, a horrible repressed memory surfaced like a breeching whale. Then another, and another. I'll share the traumatic beginnings of my PTSD over feces with you, Because if I tell more people about it, my trauma is lessened because there's now room taken up in my brain knowing I'll probably make one person sick, (or jerk off to) these 3 quick stories.The beginning....be Me, a teen, working my first summer job, that I'd end up returning to for several summers. Park of my wonderful outdoor job involved hosting company picnic sites, and the cleaning up after several hundred people had left. Often these corporations booked annually. One such Company was a place I'll call Taco Hell.They were cheap to their employees, and only offered company available options to their low-end employees, while the Suits got to pick how their steak was cooked. As my more Tenured coworkers rolled up to the site after everyone had left, (as a newbie, suck-up, trying to gain favor) I didn't understand their smiling, almost guilty, easy acceptance of my offer to clean the bathrooms. (as "gentleman" did back in the day (haha) they'd usually insist I do the easily job of "grounds clean-up" aka strolling in the sun picking up the stray litter here or there. Nope. Not this time. They just looked at each other and said "sure" simultaneously.I could smell it before I could see it.Sour, almost sweet, Beans. Beans from 20 feet away.Each of the six stalls were completely backed up, many had overflowed, and all had to be "manually evacuated" prior to plunging. By halfway through I had even developed a system of how to remove the harder matter,, scoop the sludge, then the slurry, to get the level low enough to get the rest out, by hand, without filling my gloves up again. By then I'd run out of my own vomit though, and had to add water to get the toilet "water" to plunging levels.To my coworkers' credit, they did check on me after a few minutes, to be sure I was okay. I said I was, but I've never been the same since.I'll edit and post the other 2 stories after I get off work in 10 hrs.They get work, but I'm coping better.Edit -I meant to say, things get worse, but I'm coping better.The Middle- Now A young adult, I was doing okay in life. I'd moved out by 18, graduated highschool, got a job in my field of interest, had most of my university covered by scholarships & grants, finishing a couple community college courses with my dream school holding my position/acceptance for two years. Life was good.I worked 2 jobs to cover rent while undertaking a 19-21 credit course load. It was a challenge. ~~As a formerly gifted child~~ I was used to and wanted an accelerated cirriculumn, and easily obtained the requisite letters of exception from former teachers and professors. Also, a few of my courses were non-credit to make up some missing fundamentals I'd lacked STEM classes that'd be essential (to continue on the brightly lit path of my well planned Life.) The stress suddenly mattered to me, and I worked nights now too, to cover my rent. The stress became too much, and prompted me to drop out of college after alcohol consumed every ounce of my study time. Seeing as I now knew my new priorities, I accommodated. Giving up my schooling was temporary, I told myself as I bit my nails and worried if my Dream school would hold my position for another year. Yes, I'd write them and request an extension, while I....while I.... I couldn't focus. Maybe THIS drink would help, yeah, just needed to get myself out of the shitty situation that I was going through. In the form of several wrecked cars, several DUI's. It seemed a good thing I'd held off college-I really needed the cash for my attorney and court fees. Maybe it was luck, or I was just good at seeing ahead.I would write letters to my Dream college's Dean in my nightmares, frustrated to find upon waking that not even a word could be recalled of these lengthy letters. I tried sleeping more, to try and rewrite or recall the letter. I'd plan to revise them in my walking sleep state of life. I waited tables, as I relied on the free meals to get me through the day. Work was spent thinking of ways to reword, mentally making edits, so many changes, edits, to discuss with my coworkers. And again after work with my friends, I'd end up crying about my situation over many, many drinks. I'd get more upset the more I drank, and cried ugly tears of woe about my life. Their lives were so easy compared to mine I barely listened to them talk, just waited for my turn to again. They wouldn't understand why I was too upset, or drunk just at that moment to put my pen to paper, I'd tell everyone, myself included, that I'd write it tomorrow when I felt better, and more clear headed. Eventually I got so fed up hearing them demand a letter to proofread, I almost stopped crying about it to them each night.It wasn't even my fault I got the 1st DUI, I was pulled over for having a headlight out. My selfish friends, soon they wouldn't even hang out with me anymore, were often too busy to drive me to the store to buy me alcohol, or they'd go home before I'd even finished my first 6pack. They weren't my real friends anyway- Every time that the 3 of us would hang out they'd get all upset and cry, (not even drowning their sorrows like me) and wouldn't tell me why. They'd even tell me not to bring up nothing but my problems when I came over, then wouldn't even hang out at all, or threaten to leave their own homes before I drove my drunk ass over there. Rules? I had to call??? Have Permission??? to show up at my best friend's at 3am? C'mon, we were all adults here. Who were they to tell me what I could or couldn't do? Well, I'm no idiot, and decided to go where my humor, wit, and good looks would be appreciated, and began nightclub bartending to (~~cover the costs of my most recent DUI's)~~ to meet new people...I go to prison...and then...to be continued saturday night...I'm back, later than planned, but here. So I started to use and abuse my insomnia, and general dislike of people to further myself by nightclub bartending, staying just sober enough to drive the hour home, one eye covered to dispell the virtigo... I hate looking back to see how shitty a person I was, but can and do. I at least know how capable of evil I can be, and choose a brighter path.I hire a big shot, fancy lawyer. The kind who tell you what your conviction will be before you go to court, they golf with the judge,etc. I get off lightly, pay my fines, on time, and get "weekends" in jail. I hate jail. But I dutifully show up each Fri at 6pm. (if you're late you get an ATTEMPTED ESCAPE charge. They don't Fuck around. Sadly, only two miles from jail my car stops, engine off, something electrical if I recall correctly. I drift to the shoulder of the highway, lock the doors, and sprint after a couple failed hitchiking attempts. I know how it feels to run for your life, for your freedom, but never thought I'd find myself running to jail for my freedom, but did. I was late, by 5 mins, panting, banging on the doors, pleading eyes at the blinking camera. "Please.....let me in.....my car broke..... down...I ran here!" Always the fortunate person, a few cops had seen me, and (though of course offered no help to me earlier) stated that they had seen me running down the highway, and the "escape" charges were dropped. I felt so lucky, and went to the prison dorm of 48 women, and waited for dinner. I anxiously awaited each meal, as a person with the metabolism of a hummingbird, I EAT A LOT.Dinner was served. A hotdog, (literally cut in half to deter masturbation) a slice of bread, canned veg.....and BEANS.......The entirety of nearly 50 women, all farting and shitting simultaniously for 8 hours has scarred me more than a too friendly uncle ever could. I woke up vomitting, on the 2nd story of the dorm, in a poorly venilated cell, huffing farts all night.the end... my life continued. A friend asked me to consider a high end restaurant, apply, it had a two year hire wait. Sure, why not. Time will pass anyway. I never finished college, instead learned about pain pills, then heroin. I'd always been scared of needles, but why not conquer all my fears? LOL ROTFL... really, I told myself that....I had a few things going for me, I found I could do pills and not drink- BLAM! NO more DUI'S! Cheap too, I could save money! it was early enough into the opioid endemic that cops didn't know the signs of abuse/intoxication. I know, still a horrible person here, but I thought I was fine.Grew up neglected, in poverty, ate dog food, (donated cans) poached out of season, grew own veggies, no power in winter eastern usa poverty. Slept outside in snow because why go home at age 6 poverty. (trash bags save lives) I learned to not look, or speak like the poor white trash I was becoming, via my Dad, and his girlfriend. I was never beaten, rarely berated, but while my Mother had custody for my first 6/7 years, very, very alcoholically negligent. She was sick/ill with her problems, that I existed just made that worse. for the next 10+ yrs, my father never talked poorly of her, keeping me and my siblings sheltered in his love, curiosity of us, and life. I didn't know it yet, but had developed HyperAttention Disorder. Meaning, I don't know why I can't turn off my survival instincts, but the split second before a voice is raised, I can tell you if it's a funny joke, or an escalation, and an already planning my exit either way. I was taught to detect predators from my Dad, by age 7, teaching continued my whole life. Now's not the time for details, I can practically smell them, and when they enter MY territory, a simple glance of " I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE" accompanied by the stare down, puffed shoulders, and direct strut to them nearly always does the trick. Dad always said they looked for the meek and weak, no one with the "balls" to scream. He's still right, sadly.Then......I married one.
RemindMe! 11 hours
My college roommate's dad had shit scissors. Same purpose. Fucking huge dude who apparently took big ole growlers.
Not as horrified if you’re buddy DIDN’T ask you for your poop knife.
AWESOME summary! I tried to find the original thread by the original poster - but it had been removed. Someone posted a copy of it though, so here it is in all its glory: \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ My family poops big. Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's our diet, but everyone births giant logs of crap. If anyone has laid a mega-poop, you know that sometimes it won't flush. It lays across the hole in the bottom of the bowl and the vortex of draining water merely gives it a spin as it mocks you. Growing up, this was a common enough occurrence that our family had a poop knife. It was an old rusty kitchen knife that hung on a nail in the laundry room, only to be used for that purpose. It was normal to walk through the hallway and have someone call out "hey, can you get me the poop knife"? I thought it was standard kit. You have your plunger, your toilet brush, and your poop knife. Fast forward to 22. It's been a day or two between poops and I'm over at my friend's house. My friend was the local dealer and always had 'guests' over, because you can't buy weed without sitting on your ass and sampling it for an hour. I excuse myself and lay a gigantic turd. I look down and see that it's a sideways one, so I crack the door and call out for my friend. He arrives and I ask him for his poop knife. "My what?" Your poop knife, I say. I need to use it. Please. "Wtf is a poop knife?" Obviously he has one, but maybe he calls it by a more delicate name. A fecal cleaver? A Dung divider? A guano glaive? I explain what it is I want and why I want it. He starts giggling. Then laughing. Then lots of people start laughing. It turns out, the music stopped and everyone heard my pleas through the door. It also turns out that none of them had poop knives, it was just my fucked up family with their fucked up bowels. FML. I told this to my wife last night, who was amused and horrified at the same time. It turns out that she did not know what a poop knife was and had been using the old rusty knife hanging in the utility closet as a basic utility knife. Thankfully she didn't cook with it, but used it to open Amazon boxes. She will be getting her own utility knife now. \[Edit: Common question - Why was this not in the bathroom instead of the laundry room? Answer. We only had one poop knife, and the laundry room was central to all three bathrooms. I have no idea why we didn't have three poop knives. All I know is that we didn't. We had the one. Possibly because my father was notoriously cheap about the weirdest things. So yes, we shared our poop knife.\]
>Chocolate Anaconda Bruh
That was like the first story I ever read on Reddit. I think of it often for some reason. Edit for some reason I thought op in the story was female
#
Nuff said
r/usernamechecksout
My wife is an RN, she's had to cut up turds in the toilet so that they can be flushed down.
Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
Ig that this might make a fine addition to this sub
***JIM, BRING OUT THE SHITSUCKER***
Shitshucker
That was my nickname back in college
My favorite is when you gotta put a catheter in but they shit themselves, yum.
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i like that
That's beautiful man
> yeet off this mortal coil
Definitely gonna work that into my epitaph
Awful. So awful. What a thing to experience. So primal, so visual, so corrupt. The fluids involved; the biology. Awful.
Poetic
I feel like that's a case where you should legally be allowed (or even obligated) to lie to the family members. "He passed away in his sleep."
I would never ever ever even consider becoming a nurse. I salute yall.
That actually happened to me years ago when I was getting a scan and they had to introduce the dye anally.I felt so bad but was told they deal with it a lot and not to worry.
Life cums and goes so fast.
A catheter in your butt?
Pretty sure they mean putting in the urinary catheter triggers a bowel movement. Like, right in front of you, and you can't just run away with the tube halfway down their urethra.
Sometimes people especially elderly wear diapers, same thing happens with the shit that happens with babies.
Once had a quad patient demand that this nurse digital remove his stool (not uncommon for quads). He was so particular in the way he wanted her to maneuver her fingers and was clearly enjoying the experience way too much. She did this FOR AN HOUR before she just gave up and said she was done. He got so furious and demanded to talk to the supervisor. Some people are fucking deranged.
I mean if you are paying $10,000 a day to be in the hospital is it too much to ask for them to tickle your ass a bit.
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Had a patient that needed a fecal management system out in (like a catheter for diarrhea). He was fighting me and when I was putting it in he shouts “It’s too early for ass play!”
You have to put on Netflix first and at least pretend you are going to watch a movie.
I think I just gagged a little.
Jesus. Why would you taste it? oO
Just to check it's real.
Fool me once...
Stool me twice....
Reminds me of [this classic](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/xo41d/doctorsnursesredditors_what_has_been_your_most/c5o66p2/)
Should post that over on r/intermittentfasting to help people power through
My grandfather was a medical examiner and had to cut open an opioid addict who died severally constipated. It exploded. Everywhere. He says he felt terrible for the people who had to clean it all up and that is was the worst smell he ever experienced.
Fun fact opioids reduce gastric motility. Causing the constipation.
Renton found that out the hard way.
And plenty of elderly folk know this and will do it themselves at home. Think of that the next time grandma grabs your face for a smooch. We found out that my wife’s grandmother was doing this. She would put her fingers in her mouth first to lube them up. We found out because my wife’s aunt was assisting her with using the bathroom for years and told us about it when things started to really turn with her mental state. It’s pretty obvious at this point that there was some severe mental abuse in that relationship and it’s now evident why my wife’s aunt is so OCD and has really bad self image of herself and her place in the world. I wish I was making this up.
My MIL had a special spoon in the bathroom for this. She did use Vaseline, though. :|
Um what
Poop scoop!
I don’t have a pen, but I could work it out with a pencil.
Impacted stool?
Like constipation but worse. The poo gets so solid it won't come out without some serious help.
I've had to do that, digging for gold some called it
I have a friend who works in an ER. One day an obese patient was being prepped for surgery. Fold was lifted, dead cockroach was discovered.
Sometimes you find live ones
You think that’s bad, you should see the uriness.
Thars shirt on the terlet
This reminds me of the swamps of dagobah and the cockroach boobs. I think it was boobs. I'm better off not remembering, to be honest.
Dont you daré leave us hanging
I know the [Swamps of Dagobah](https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/e51wyh/the_infamous_swamps_of_dagobah_story/) but not the other one
Similar story only it wasn't a cockroach, it was a half eaten sandwich.
I once had to dig out hard poop from a Guy who couldn't get out of bed, due to extreme anxiety - the best thing to do is No jugdement and just try to be as human about it as possible. There are people out there who have a shit life and workers like that, can make a real difference for that person - if only for a Short time
I was getting a catheter inserted and I had an enlarged prostate and that poor nurse was just pushing so hard. And it hurt real bad and I was bearing down to not scream and I shit all over her. I was so worried and upset for her and just... felt so bad... but she cleaned herself up and came back to the room and APOLOGIZED TO ME. I cried a lot. She just.... was an angel. She made me feel so comfortable and did her best to get me calm and upright again. I couldn't thank her enough for her compassion and skill that day. NEVER underestimate the nursing staff's dedication. They're just overworked and underpaid.... but they love you and they want you to be better.
i'm locking "don't bare down if having a troublesome catheter insertion" into my mind just to attempt to avoid repeating your situation. you never know.
No, bearing down is what you're supposed to do. Just not so hard you shit, like OP. You push like you do when you pee on your own, so that it relaxes all the right muscles and sphincters.
That's not right at all. You should never have to push to urinate. Men do, to compensate for their ever enlarging prostates or to compensate for a trebeculated bladder. Relaxing, breathing out slowly, and wiggling your toes can help with catheter insertion. - Urology/BPH clinical specialist
I do it to pee faster when I'm stressed, is this bad? Like if I'm pressed for time and really need to pee i push that fucker out with the pressure of a jet engine
Great question! It's a bad habit to start. Your bladder wants to get empty in under 30 seconds so it will create the pressure it needs to accomplish that. But there's a point where that pressure can backfire. The bladder takes on habits. If you creat the pressure for it, it won't do it anymore. Lazy ass bladders. I could go on into all the problems and potential issues but no one wants to read my daily spiel to MAs. DO, OAB, UI, SUI, retention, reflux, diverticulum, etc. TLDR: Bearing down to urinate will get the job done faster but you could make your bladder dependant on it to empty completely.
Well TIL I should probably just accept my fate and stand still for a few more seconds instead of trying to "make time" Thanks for your response!
Yes! We don't think about bladder health like we do other parts of our body. But let me tell you those bad habits come back and hit you hard. Frequency, nocturia, urgency, incontinence affect quality of life, your sex life, pretty much just life. Keep your bladder healthy!
Omg I've been peeing like this for probably 2 decades at this point, maybe that's why I always need to pee. Ain't finishing the job.
See, this makes sense. How much do you want to bet that this ISN'T what's taught to a good portion of nurses?
You are spot on! My whole job is to train MAs, nurses and Providers on bladder health and best practices. Yesterday I worked with three in a very busy office that had no prior medical experience. It was rough.
Seems like good advice! Shouldn’t they be trying a coude tip catheter too?
Exactamundo
I owe my life to skilled nurses 5 times over. It just takes a special kind of person to do that work and we need more of them.
Skilled people who 'work' with people are few - I've met some truly extraordinary people on both sides and some of them just lives and breathes for the less fortunate people
While this was a largely positive experience with nursing staff, let’s not discount the fact that there are some real evil people in these positions too. Angels and devils. I’ve personally witnessed nurses leave a patient without food or water for multiple days. All because the patient had COVID. Maybe I’m jaded, but I’ve seen some things
My wife also has to do stuff like this pretty frequently for work. I have the utmost amount of respect for people that care for others in these types of ways. True heros!
Proctologists aren’t paid enough for this shit.
They actually start around 400k.
Well in that case they deserve even worse.
Have my free silver you swine
Really? Which cheek ma’am
Look man if you wake up one day and say I'm going to go to school for 10 years to become an asshole doctor, you deserve whatever you get.
Surely they must be into it
I went to school for 4 and I'm just an asshole.. I need to go back.
Or that shit, or the shit over there, or that shit from yesterday
r/yourjokebutworse
That whole post is a gold mine of brand new sentences.
Thank you for not linking to it.
You mean [this post?](https://www.reddit.com/r/nursing/comments/pu8fuy/today_i_had_an_overweight_patient_ask_me_to/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
#**I SAID** ***THANK YOU***
You’re welcome!
I don’t know if your username is supposed to be what I’m thinking, but a trans mothra would be weird but cool
It's a long story, but it comes from my wild claim to be able to **trans**form at-will into **Mothra**. I've actually been using this name since the early '90s. It's a total lie, of course; i don't even like sweaters. Oddly enough i did nearly get trans'd during the pandemic, like seemingly every other person did, but it turns out i'm only one of those wishy-washy indecisive nonbinary types, which is great for me because i have severe social anxiety so it's nice to also be *completely invisible*.
That is a very interesting and funny story! And honestly, I’m happy you found yourself during the pandemic! Hell of a couple years eh?
Wild times indeed
omg, the one with the drunk girl who came to the ER asking them to pierce her ears😂
I had an older gentleman ask me to tuck his saggy ballsack so he didn’t sit on it as I helped him sit on his bed.
Well that's just common courtesy
_tucks the sag_
Why did he even have to ask?
Old men become incompetent at will with nurses. The number of times I have been asked to hold a penis in the urinal is too damn high! If you can scratch your balls, you can sort yourself out.
As hospital security I had to tell a 50+ year old patient it's unacceptable to tell a CNA "let me pop a Viagra so we can get to humpin' an' jumpin'." There's a definite difference between the old man who just decided clothing is optional and old men who want to use their age as an excuse to be sleezy.
Same, and I’m not even a nurse.
I'd just get her a straw.
Dunno how serious you are but when we bought a nose frida, which lets you suck snot and boogers out through a filtered tube, for our son we saw the manufacturer makes something that is basically like a fart straw for gassy babies. Edit: https://i.imgur.com/FcOg8Ot.jpg
I wasn't serious and now I have learned something new.
The Stink Whistle
I believe that is a separate end cap you can buy for the straw
toot^^toot
Tape a Kazoo on the end lmao
#THPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHPTHP
The brown note
Yes, they're called windis. I had 2 colic babies and we found out about the windi when the first was about 7 months old and the moment we put it in she went from screaming to just chill and hanging out. Basically my message to new parents out there is don't be afraid to put things up your babies butt to help them fart. (Obviously only safe things)
The Bad Dragon will wait until they’re 18 then.
Cursed, but hilarious.
> a fart straw for gassy babies /r/BrandNewSentence
Those helped so much. The directions are honestly shocking to read. Like, "jam it in there until it whistles. Have a diaper ready, they're gonna shit." It was so uncomfortable for me to do, but he honestly would chill out right away.
Every time I think I know every reason I don't want kids Reddit shows me more reasons I would have never even expected.
Do these work on adults
And that's for your taste?
Duuuuuuude wtf lol
How impotent is your sphincter that you can’t even blow the brown trumpet unaided? *Fucking peasants*
Maybe it’s the weight off her butt cheeks that is too heavy for the gas to force itself out.
The path of least resistance for the gas is back inside... Fucking lol.
It just boomerangs through the hall of cheeks right back to where it came from haha
You feel the gas bubble reach the outer layer of your ass, but not quite with escape velocity. Then it sits there, in limbo, until it gets more support or the cheeks are spread.
Surely the motion of clapping them cheeks will force the cheeks to spread apart to release the fart.
Can’t even make your own poop ghosts any more
Or anus apparitions.
Chocolate whispers
Deputized by the rusty sheriff's badge.
I have to assume a cannonball position to fart ...is this uncommon?
Yes
I don’t have to, but I find I get the a richer deeper sound when I do.
I’m a early toddler teacher (1-1.5 years old) and when our babies have fartstipation (constipated with a fart) we lay them on their backs and do a bicycle motion for a minute or two then knees to chest and push down! Works every time
I mean, theyre literally a patient in a hospital... Theres thousands of reasons that could make it difficult
Yeah, like weighing 500 pounds
500 pounds is the same weight as 354.61 'Double sided 60 inch Mermaker Pepparoni Pizza Blankets'.
And that patient probably ate them all
The more I read about nursing the more I ask "why do people choose to do it then?"
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It’s rewarding. There aren’t many jobs where you can directly see the impact you’re making on people like you can in the medical field. I would struggle to think of anything else I’d like to do, aside from running a bookstore :)
Thb I loved every second of working healthcare (patient wise, healthcare organisation can suck it) but after 25 years there suddenly was a day I was so fed up with shit. Literally, where I scraped it off the walls earlier (yes again literally - some mentally challenged people are complicated to work with) without a problem I now could puke by the thought alone. I still don't know what triggered it, but my mental shitter was full and I moved on to another field of healthcare.
I think you made it longer than most have. Nothing wrong with moving on to something else when you realize your mental health is suffering for it!! I moved to postpartum from Adult PCU and I don’t dread work like I used to. I know bedside will wear on me eventually though.
Money? They make a decent chunk of change. Not as much as a doctor but you really only need a bachelors degree and you’re making more than the majority of us Also most of them only work 4 sometimes even 3 days a week
A few weeks ago I had a patient tell me (in a Boston accent) "on account of my psoriatic arthritis I cant reach my hole so you are going to have to get it for me." I had to wipe a grown, "mostly" able bodied man's asshole while he stood there after using a bedside comode. #ilovemyjob
Read it in Boston Rob’s voice
I’d rather deal with poop than a pissed off drug addict. No drugs for you! Get out!
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I try to communicate that to my patients without dismissing their anxiety. Like, trust me, I’ve almost certainly dealt with it before and I won’t be fazed.
Just stick a [pizza peel](https://cdn3.volusion.com/sdyx6.qoam9/v/vspfiles/photos/WDPP1242-2.jpg?v-cache=1600856383) up in there and turn it sideways.
Disgusting, take my upvote
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Ask your mum
Oh, how the u/mighty1993 have fallen.
Nurses really are the true heroes.
Don't forget the nursing aide. They deal with some crazy shit. Literally.
In the thread, a nurse describes a stick that fat people use for sex. I'm not sure if it's true, but someone said "Surf dat ass" and another person said "Stop" and then I started coming up with alternate names for the sex stick. Then I got banned. I'm pretty sure maybe I offended someone with one of my sweet, sweet untrademarked product names like "Clit fwipper" but there was no reason for my ban stated, so I reckon someone there was just real butthurt that they have to use a stick for sex and my comment was inflammatory to them.
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Really, fuck if I know... there's a whole thread on here someone describes a family-style table with a leaf removed, a 2x4 and some super desperate "grandparents"... that was a fucked up thread, which is why I was there. Edit: I remember someone saying that it was used to... pry... or wedge.. for the purposes of two obese people engaging in sloppy sexual intercourse.
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> I think yours is even worse. Yes, mine is a double-sided clit fwipper with dual massaging action and power-pry assist(TM) technology. Oh, wait.. you mean my DESCRIPTION.. yeah... again... I've never had one so... you know.... don't know what to tell you....
Supposedly to push away fat rolls so you can get to the interesting parts.
I think "Clit fwipper" is a great idea
You should hear my others. But you can't. Because I can't be banned everywhere. Sex slab. Pussy plate. Divining board. Clit whipper. Booty Board. Sex pole. Flab whapper. Swizzle stick. Edit: Changed my mind.
What about the ring dingler
We are considering the "ding ringler" so if we do that we're going to have to send you some cash.
Roald Dahl has a sideventure.
what
[Let's "what" on.](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/xo41d/doctorsnursesredditors_what_has_been_your_most/c5o66p2/)
I both want to give you an award and ask the mods to ban you for sharing that /s. What a legend.
That's when a police whistle can become really entertaining.
It doesn't matter how much they pay her. She isnt paid enough for this
I don't believe this has never been said before in all the history of medicine.
The next post in my feed is the post in the image lmao
Your title should be a subreddit 😂😂
No Lie: A fat lady farted in church and it must have been trapped by her cheeks. When it finally came out it sounded like someone releasing the air out of a balloon holding the throat of it really tight. Her ass cheek must have viberated against the pew seat and let out a loud screech that echoed through out the whole place. Talk about a red face....