On this day in '85 was another Friday 13. And there were waves.
God didn't want me out and he did his best to keep me out. BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I just got my first custom thruster, and haven't gotten to use it.
I was working for a local grocery chain doing their refrig. Gloria wasn't formed yet but the surf report said waves (finally after a dry summer).
My stores were scattered through VA into NC, I stop at each one to check temps then move on.
My last stop was across the river in Portsmouth. I checked temps then asked the manager if there were any problems. He was hounding a young cashier and waved me off.
So I left, got home in record time, got my gear by the door and waited for the wifey to bring the truck.
MEANWHILE, I get a call from the last manager who just remembered a problem in the store an hour away at that time of day.
I told him tomorrow, and continued waiting. finally Mona returned,I got the truck loaded and got on the interstate. Which was dead stopped half mile away.
I ran down the side to the next exit, took the secret shortcut, I shoulda taken, and got to the beach in record time. Got to the top of the dune and saw my buddy B.H. Huggins, floating in lake Atlantic.
He was waving me out, but I didn't see anything for the longest time, So I decided to leave and do that job. As I went down the dune I looked back and saw him drop into a glassy head high wave.
I was out in a flash. It was too easy and too fun. The board floated me, caught the wave before it really broke and carved like no other board I've ridden.
My last wave was hollow, sucked me up and out and twisted me in a knot while I was giggling like a little school girl. That's when the fin hit me in the side of the foot cutting me.
I get to the ER, no one else there, so I was seen right away. Even tho I was the only one there, the guy did a crappy job cleaning it up and I got super infected after returning 3 times. They put me in the hospital and left me there to rot. 3 days later, I called the doc they assigned and said I was leaving. He showed up, cut off the bandage and I saw a black mass where the cut was. "What's that?" I asked. "Gangrene, but I'll get rid of that."
He took the scissors he cut the bandage, clamped it on my foot, and strain to cut it off. He finally filleted it off with a scalpel.
I had complained about the nurses because they wouldn't clean the place, left the dirty bandage container open at the foot of the bed. and I had flies buzzing me
One of them came in to give me one last IV. After it was empty, she came back in to get the needle out. She looked at my buddy and said "He doesn't feel like he was treated good here!" as she was removing the hepren lock IV needle assembly. She didn't bother removing the retaining tape, and try to pull it out so hard she looked like she was cranking up a lawn mower.
All she managed to remove was the plastic cap, so I started squirting my blood at her, like a lawn sprinkler, saying, "I'm sorry. I was wrong! You did a great job."
Then we left.




Edited: 09/13/2019 at 11:34 AM by SlimyBritches

It was the 20th when I left that hospital. The "doc" said to come to his office on Monday, but in the mean time, fill the tub with soapy water, then shoot my foot with a shower massage to simulate the whirlpool bath they'd been sticking my foot in.
We did it once. The wifey cleaned the tub, and I almost passed out when the whirlpool effect hit raw meat. So I crab walked back to the room and got in bed. I asked her to try to find a real doc. She left a message with one who sewed her up when she was a child. As I waited for the return call, my dog, FaceBiter, walked by the foot of the bed, stopped, sniffed, then started howling mournfully.
The doc called and was mad cause it was his day off. We got to his hospital and as soon as I got inside everyone who saw me rushed to put me on a gurney and rolled me in the back. While they were murmuring at my foot, I was looking away, down the hall.
I saw a pissed off old man stomping down the hall heading my way.
He was glaring at me until he saw my foot. He gasped, and came up to "comfort me".

Edited: 09/13/2019 at 10:01 AM by SlimyBritches

Damn, I am glad you reminded me to take those matters into my own hands. I have now accumulated three scars that I have thoroughly cleaned, pinched and then super glued. I took care to change the dressing each day and I was called crazy but it beats what you had to suffer. I am also sure that your's must have been more severe, but in light of your story, I would still at least try my way.

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"One of the reasons why propaganda tries to get you to hate government is because it's the one existing institution in which people can participate to some extent and constrain tyrannical unaccountable power." Noam Chomsky.

I was given to a plastic surgeon who remove a muscle and end of an artery. took a skin graft off the belt line on my front right. I was out of work for 3 months.
After that, I filed those fins dull. My next board I asked my shaper to do the same. He said it would make a noise. I didn't care. I didn't get to ride it until I got to Costa. The first wave I took, I cranked off a bottom turn, and my board sounded like blowing across the top of a bottle, all the way down the line. My wife liked it because she could find me easier, and knew when to shoot pics.

Wow, that was one expensive wave. Hope it all worked out.

Nope. I called a liar, er Lawyer who said we could get a million from them. After six years I got $24,000 and a gnarly scar. My buddy said it looks like someone dipped out a chunk with a spoon. It was really tender, so I cut up a wetsuit sock at the ankle heal and toes for cushion.

Damn Slimy !!!! I had a friend get shark bit at a river mouth break in Mexico and the "hospital" in Acapulco did a better job than that!!


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"Most people would die sooner than think; in fact, they do." - Bertrand Russell


"Morality is doing what is right, regardless of what you are told. Religion is doing what you are told, regardless of what is right.


If I do not answer you .... nothing personal, I just have you on ignore.

In the early part of this century I got stabbed on the bottom of my other foot by a board with kelp cutting fins. I had a Chest High and Over clause in my employment agreement and I went out at 2 pm when everyone was working. I ate doo as always, laughing as I was augured into the bottom. Felt a stab in the bottom of my other foot. When I surfaced there was a big gash in the bottom of my foot and a board, upside down, with knives attached to the bottom. I was waiting for the assailant to rise so I could discuss my displeasure but he never did. I felt his head hit me in the ass once or twice. It was feeding time and I was chumming so I got out. Went to ER again. Got it sewn up, and saw my primary physician the next AM. He looked at it and asked me what I wanted him to do. I said since you said that, refer me to the doc who save me last time. I asked my savior if he remembered me. He said, "Yes indeed! You're my first presentation on difficult wound treatment." I said,"Yeah? Well, you can call me Slimy Britches!"

Edited: 09/13/2019 at 04:48 PM by SlimyBritches