Drilled

So, my coworker nurse, let's say his name is Chuck, had a remarkable and memorable event occur three days ago, the effects of which may linger for a while.

He was hoisting a 4' x 8' foot piece of plywood into place as he built a chicken coop. Having gained a bunch of weight over the winter, he had jettisoned his tool belt in deference to comfort. His hands were full, and he was leaning out over an expanse, on a step stool. He had an electric drill in one hand.

Well, the drill was, for now, unneeded. So, he stuffed it down the front of his pants...

I know, I know, but he did it.

And, lo and behold, and not surprisingly, his waistband pressed upon the trigger, and the drill turned on. Alarmingly on. He dropped the plywood, began clawing at the errant power tool, and watched in horror as the drill wadded up his boxers, exfoliated his pubic area, rolled his manhood up like a firehose, and tore the front of his jeans out.

Blood was everywhere. As he groped at the on/off switch, the battery release button and the appliance itself, the thought crossed his mind that he might need stitches. That fear was confirmed by post-event assessment. But, he did not feel comfortable with going to the local emergency department.

Dear God! He knew these people! They would know him and make him the laughingstock of the hospital! Get out the 4 x 4's! Apply pressure! Save face, if not blood and tissue!

Well, after long minutes of direct pressure, the bleeding was slowed to an ooze.

He showed up to work the next day, and the next, willing to share his story. Despite the screaming laughter of the other PACU nurses (me included). He had an unusually bulging groin area, demonstrating the dense packing he had applied to his, well, parts. I offered icepacks, which were medically indicated, but were soundly rejected.

Man, I think maybe manufacturers should post a new consumer liability warning on drills: do not put the drill into your pants.

But, on the other hand, most of us would not do that in the first place.