In a day's work.

8/18/2010 08:28:00 pm

Shall we talk about the first time I passed out at work?

Actually, I should say, the first time I passed out at my current work, since I did once faint in a fitting room when I worked in retail. I was, unbeknownst to me, in the throes of severe iron deficiency anaemia and there wasn't enough oxygen getting to my brain. My red blood cells, deprived of haemoglobin, had started to lose their biconcave shape, and with it their oxygen-carrying capacity. That's not so good apparently...

They found me slumped over a safe-t-step with my head in a box full of t shirts. It was all very dramatic.

Anyway, to the present day.

*WARNING: graphic medical images of a tongue coming up. If you are a pansy, you may want to steer clear*

There I was, holding someone's tongue in my hand. Let's be clear: not a whole tongue, it was still very much attached to its owner. My job was to keep it pulled out of his mouth and prevent recoil as my boss took a chunk out of it for a punch biopsy.

It's a strange feeling to hold a tongue, even if there are a few layers of gauze and some gloves in between. It was quivery and I kept losing my grip as he pulled it back into his mouth. It is, afterall, the strongest and most dexterous of the muscles. Shudder.

Imagine my hand in this glove, and you'll start to get the picture. Here, the tongue is being injected with local. I can assure you that when a needle goes into someone's tongue, they attempt quite strongly to pull their tongue back in. I had to squeeze the tongue very hard.

Holding it wasn't the worst part. Nor was all the blood that gushed out after the biopsy was taken.

This is not a punch biopsy. It's an excision biopsy. I imagine they involve about the same level of nastiness.

The worst part was feeling myself start to feel a bit off, just as the suture needle went through the tongue.  At that point, it started to look like something fancy you'd do to a rack of lamb with some rosemary and a piece of string.

Except that, as I said earlier, the tongue was still attached to its owner. Attached and quivering.

I felt a familiar sensation as my vision started to narrow, then turn blotchy, and suddenly I was hot and dizzy, but clammy, all at the same time. It was the incident at the blood bank all over again!

All I wanted to do was look away. And sit down with my head between my legs. But I couldn't sit down because my job was to hold on to the tongue until the job was finished, and I couldn't look away because then I wouldn't know when the job was finished, and in turn, when I could let go of the tongue and get the hell out of that room. It was, my friends, an evil cycle. 

And then finally it was over and I left the room and slumped in my chair.

And people made fun of me for the rest of the day. Bastards.

Pictures in this post appropriated from this website. You can even watch a video of the whole process!

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1 comments on this post

  1. aww dude you need to put up a warning, i was eating dinner...

    normally your blog is my favorite accompaniment to dinner, but now, not so much.

    if you're going to be putting up pictures of bloody tongues i request a warning, a disclaimer of some sort...

    that is all.


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