Eye Sore Nothing…..

In previous blogs, I told you I once worked in a very peculiar place.  Anyway that’s nothing to do with the story, but the incident happened within this very peculiar place, and I also (a very important part of the story) have a small head…. a ‘pin-head’ if you like.

It was the early 90’s and I was a fully grown adult…….YES…..but with a small head.  My job was to repair crashed cars, which obviously meant that I was working with metal.  It also meant working with lots of dangerous tools; I could use them all….. in some shape anyway.

grinder finger.pngOne of the tools that was regularly used was a grinder.  For those who don’t know, a grinder is a hand held tool with a stone wheel that spins around at supersonic speed allowing you to grind metal down and clean surfaces.

So it was a day like any other day and I, Dave Frantony was working on a car, grinding away as I have done many times before.  The usual attire for this type of working environment is as follows:-

Steel toe cap boots, Overalls, Gloves and Goggles.  As I have pointed out….I have a PIN HEAD, and to this day, I have never been able to find a pair of goggles to fit my head.  Do you remember ‘JOE 90’? Well that’s what I looked like.

Joe 90.png

When your grinder is spinning full pelt on metal, it shoots off 100’s of sparks and ‘swarf’, these are red hot and will be glowing for a few seconds as they leave the wheel until they cool down.

Grinder

For some reason on this day, and I don’t know why, maybe it was the angle of the grinder and the angle of my head and the shape of my head, and the shape of the badly fitting goggles.  In fact, let me show you the calculation just in case you’re ever in my situation.

Anyway, some of the red hot swarf made its way (at a terrific speed) not just into one eye, but right into both eyes….  What were the chances?  Yes, they were badly fitted goggles, but they were covering my

Dinner plate eyes

eyes.  It was as if my eyes decided not to like me anymore, and wanted to get me in trouble, so they took it upon themselves to turn to the size of dinner plates.

Let’s talk about the pain….. well, it hurts.  It’s like a quick sting, then your eyes start to feel rough and you then start to rub them, and by the way…..you must NOT rub your eyes.  So this is what you have to do next, if you can’t wash the swarf out then it’s a trip to the hospital.  Now, if you don’t wash the swarf out then a film will cover your eyes and the swarf will rust and then everything and everyone will look orange….and you don’t want that (but of course if you did allow this

big teeth face

to happen you will lose the ability to spot the people that live under sun beds and trowel fake tan on themselves by the lorry load).

Well after washing my eyes, the swarf was still there so a phone call was made to Mrs Frantony to pick me up and point the car in the direction of the hospital to the A&E!  Once the doctor confirmed that I definitely did have swarf embedded into my eyes, it was then time for the dreaded ‘swarf out of the eye’ removal part.  For this, the Doctor drops brown dye in to your eyes which thankfully also numbs them.  Then your head is placed into a clamp…. no, don’t think vice, a clamp.

Big massive eye picking needle

Once my head was tight and couldn’t be moved and my eyes were numb, the Doctor….using a massive needle….. picked out the swarf as you would pick a splinter from your hand.  The only problem is as he picks your eyes with the needle, they do bounce around a bit, so when he’s finished you think you look a little bit like this.

Cross eyed

After the weird experience, the nurse placed a patch on each eye, of course one eye would have been okay but two……?  She then took me out to the waiting room; Mrs Frantony (so I’m told as I can’t see) stood up and they both laughed “HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa

HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa.”

A&E

After about ten minutes had gone by, Mrs Frantony stood behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders she walked me out of the hospital and took me home…..

The patches had to stay on for 24 hours, not ideal when you have to stand up and pee…….. though on that I shall say no more…..!

 

As ever on the Easy Blend, I’m listening to some great music, today it’s Newton Faulkner, Gone in the Morning

You can find out more about my book ‘Farrago: Ten Tall Tales’ and buy it here…. (click on the cover)

Full cover single

Until the next Easy Blend blog……….. 

Stay warm and fuzzy……..

signature

 

 

Well Nurse……. It’s like this……

There is a serious dilemma to this story that every eighteen year old man could easily be in.  A predicament that I was once in.  It might not necessarily be with a nurse but with a girlfriend!  OH NO…… I  just had a shiver from the very thought……

Garage gloves.pngFrom my very first blog you will know that when leaving school I was an apprentice Panel
Beater working in a garage.

On a day just like any other day,  I had to reevaluate certain things in my life if I was to ever become a real man.  Yes, on paper, being eighteen years old I was given the title as a man…. but I didn’t look or act like one.  It was mid morning and the job I had was to cut a damaged panel off a car, when suddenly my hand slipped and slid down 2 pieces of sharp ragged metal.  I could feel it crying-cut-fingerslice through my little finger and within a super quick second the blood started to spurt out.

I held my hand up in the air, trying to slow down the blood flow as everyone gathered to have a look.  My bones were showing in both cuts, so it meant a lift to the hospital in the works  van….and by the way, the van driver at the time always drove like he was sneaking around; if I didn’t know any better, you’d think the van didn’t have an engine under the bonnet but a single fly on its own with one wing with a piece of string tied Fly towing.pngaround his legs from the front bumper.

Eventually we arrived at the Hospital and the second I stepped out of the van he slowly drove off, you certainly don’t want him to drive a getaway car if you were to rob a bank.  After waiting……and waiting…….. I was eventually seen by the doctor, who said  “HMMMMM……  Dave, you’re going to need stitches.”  He gave me an injection first to numb the finger, and then out came the sewing tin.  Eight stitches in total, four in each cut; he cleaned my finger and bandaged me up.  He told me to have two weeks off work and try not using my left hand, and to keep it clean.  But then it all started to go wrong; the Doctor turned to me saying  “When did you last have a Tetanus jab?”  I shook my head….I didn’t have a clue!  “Okay….the Nurse will be in shortly to give it to you.”car-aerial

Five minutes later the Nurse came in with
a needle the size of a car aerial that she had just snapped off  in the Hospital car park!

She closed the door behind her, she was young and beautiful; I wad eighteen and ‘on paper’ I’m supposed to be a man!  “Right Dave, drop your trousers; the injections going in your backside.”  I dropped my trousers, but the second the waistline hit my ankles I started to shake my head in embarrassment…….  it was the pants that I was wearing; this must be a lesson to all eighteen year-olds in the world today.

Massive needle.png

So, the problem was my pants, and this is where it gets tricky; I was still wearing pants from when I was fourteen years old that mother Frantony had bought me.  They still fitted and were in good condition, but the type of pants you wear at fourteen compared to when you’re eighteen are not the same…… no matter what condition they are in!  Well,Flag pants single.png the pants I was wearing on this fateful day at eighteen, in front of this beautiful young
nurse, who for some reason I thought I might have some sort of chance with, to take out on a date, had flags on them…. different coloured flags!

Yes, my bum looked good, all in the right shape flash-carand just the right size, but at the end of the day, it was in the wrong pants.  It’s like a Ferrari, well built, lovely shape….but
you wouldn’t want it in pink with orange spots.

I know that all of this could have been far worse; the Nurse and I may have met under different circumstances and our relationship might have gotten to a point we were about to make love for the first time, but she was to see my childish flag patterned pants that mother Frantony had bought me four years before.

love-in-a-box

Then the relationship would have ended with deep feelings getting in the way of deciding who bought what CD’s for each other, and that her favourite hair band was in the glove box of my car that she has to have back, and I have to go back to her house, handing it to her with her guessing if I had flag patterned pants on and me wanting to tell her that I’ve burned them all.  But that didn’t happen; she stood behind me (not knowing if she was laughing at my pants) and gave me the injection with what looked and felt like a car aerial, and then just like that, she walked out of my life leaving me to pull up my own trousers and hide my silly pants.

I walked with one leg and dragged the other out of the Hospital, not even thinking about Flag Pants.pngmy 8 stitches or my dead leg, but knowing that when you become a man……you have to renew your pants to reflect what it says on paper when you turn eighteen years old….. you’re a man….. wear pants like one.

 

As usual on the Easy Blend, I’m listening to great music; today it’s Kate Bush, Cloudbusting

You can find out more about my book ‘Farrago: Ten Tall Tales’ and buy it here…. (click on the cover)

Full cover single

Until the next Easy Blend blog……….. 

Stay warm and fuzzy……..

signature