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Stevo985

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Got the girlfriend back from hospital yesterday. She had her last op on Thursday (fingers crossed).

The surgical ward she was staying in shuts over the weekend. There clearly weren't many beds again (previous op was cancelled after a seven and half hour wait, nil by mouth). So she ends up in a (very) secure neuro ward, fortunately it ended up being just the one night. But what a night - a rocking, screaming, paranoid delusional, wall climbing, window licking sort of a night.

The signs were there early on.

There was some serious rocking action in the next bed from the off and some raised voices in the corner. Then here were the sophisticated cameras, equipped with what I can only guess were infra red arrays pointing at each bed. Finally there was the staff. They'd check the notes on the end of the bed, look at my girlfriend in surprised sympathy and say something along the lines of "What on earth are you doing in here?"

Obviously, after lights out it was madcap, mental ward, full moon mayhem.

We're laughing about it now.

:shock: :)

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**** CANCER WITH A BIG PRICKLY STICK!

Getting sick of that shit now.

How has there not been a mega break through on this yet? The most intelligent people on the planet work with billions if not trillions of dollars of funding and still the treatment generally offered has been around for 25 years. I know there are bits and bobs out there that improve the situation on some specific forms of cancer but I'm just amazed there has been no significant improvement in the worlds understanding of it.

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**** CANCER WITH A BIG PRICKLY STICK!

Getting sick of that shit now.

How has there not been a mega break through on this yet? The most intelligent people on the planet work with billions if not trillions of dollars of funding and still the treatment generally offered has been around for 25 years. I know there are bits and bobs out there that improve the situation on some specific forms of cancer but I'm just amazed there has been no significant improvement in the worlds understanding of it.

The money is in the treatment, not the cure.

Can't remember what I heard that on now. Probably a film. Harsh but kind of true.

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Got the girlfriend back from hospital yesterday. She had her last op on Thursday (fingers crossed).

The surgical ward she was staying in shuts over the weekend. There clearly weren't many beds again (previous op was cancelled after a seven and half hour wait, nil by mouth). So she ends up in a (very) secure neuro ward, fortunately it ended up being just the one night. But what a night - a rocking, screaming, paranoid delusional, wall climbing, window licking sort of a night.

The signs were there early on.

There was some serious rocking action in the next bed from the off and some raised voices in the corner. Then here were the sophisticated cameras, equipped with what I can only guess were infra red arrays pointing at each bed. Finally there was the staff. They'd check the notes on the end of the bed, look at my girlfriend in surprised sympathy and say something along the lines of "What on earth are you doing in here?"

Obviously, after lights out it was madcap, mental ward, full moon mayhem.

We're laughing about it now.

:shock: :)

was it actually a full moon last night???

if it was then that makes perfect sense cuz the freaks were out in force on erdington high street again last night

2 rows in the space of 2 hours one little brawl outside the hairy lemon (I think that was what was happening, it was hard to see from me window) and a load of **** idiots singing and being general morons

went on from about 10 o'clock till 1 in the morning

bastards

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I gotta go the hospital today

gotta have a consultation to see what the next step is with my hips

I have got the options of another MRI scan (with dye injected into me or some rubbish like that) or I can have an exploratory op

hopefully I can just get the operation dont surely that will give more conclusive results than the MRI

then I just want an op to get it sorted, not only is it fooking painfull but an operation on my hips should leave me unable to work for quite some time shouldnt it, every cloud and all that

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first one showed quite a bit but they may waant another one for some reason apparently I have got

cartlidge floating about in there

an abnormal socket

impingement syndrome

and my left hip is showing all of the same signs

I just would have thought that the exploratory op would have gave them a better idea, I aint arsed about it being intrusive to be honest its been giving me grief now for over two years so I just want is sorted

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first one showed quite a bit but they may waant another one for some reason apparently I have got

cartlidge floating about in there

an abnormal socket

impingement syndrome

and my left hip is showing all of the same signs

I just would have thought that the exploratory op would have gave them a better idea, I aint arsed about it being intrusive to be honest its been giving me grief now for over two years so I just want is sorted

Mate of mine has just had his second titanium hip installed at the ripe old age of 42

Old hips disentegrated due to steroids he'd been prescribed as a kid for a blocked nose

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Duplicated from the Phunnay Pics thread, with some food for thought.

nudecards.jpg

Porn and the shadow side of paradise: Thomas Ruff's Nudes

Geoff Dyer

guardian.co.uk, Friday 2 March 2012 22.55 GMT

In the mid-1960s when Philip Larkin saw a couple of kids and guessed "he's **** her and she's / Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm", he knew this was the "paradise / Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives". It was a paradise that turned out – isn't that the way with any paradise? – to be transitory, from which we were expelled with the advent of Aids and the comeback of the presumed-obsolete condom. Then a substitute paradise came along, one in which the idea of expulsion and exclusion was not imminent but immanent: online porn.

I didn't see real porn of any kind until I was 34, when I stumbled on it by accident on TV in a hotel in Belgrade. I'd been told that porn was woman-hatred, but it didn't seem hateful or hate-filled. What it looked like was people having sex. Camerawork and lighting were devoid of subtlety but the fact that the film showed people actually having sex rather than resorting to cloying visual euphemisms and discreet elisions gave it the quality of a revelation. Despite the aesthetic shortcomings it was a glimpse of crudely illuminated bliss. This was in 1992; nowadays it is almost inconceivable that a man could have reached that ripe old age without having encountered porn via its latest online mode of distribution and consumption.

Porn can be all things to all men. Whatever one's desires, porn will already be alert to them, will pander to them – and, by pandering, shape, mould and form. In some ways it is better than real life – an essential characteristic of any kind of paradise. In a well-known essay Martin Amis asks John Stagliano, a pornographer, about "the truly incredible emphasis on anal sex" in his work. Good question – the key question, in fact, since in some ways anal sex can be seen a metonym for porn itself.

Anal sex tends to be better or, at the very least, less hassle in porn than it is in real life (didn't Amis's friend the late Christopher Hitchens include anal sex – along with champagne and a couple of other things I can no longer recall – among life's four most over-rated pleasures?). At the risk of sounding like a killjoy, it bears emphasising that the anus is designed primarily for shitting. Not that you would ever guess this from porn; the asshole, in the overwhelming mass of pornography, is hairless, odourless and shitless. Whereas DH Lawrence famously took exception to Swift's appalled realisation about Celia – "Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!" – porn takes the modern Swift as its ideal client and delivers numerous and gorgeous anti-Celias. In similar fashion, male teenagers today, whose sexual expectations have been formed by the waxed, depilated and shaved horny angels of porn, might turn out to be as devastated as Ruskin by the discovery that women have pubic hair. Or do they? I ran this little Ruskin comparison by a 25-year-old, who pointed out that increasing numbers of young women are hairless, shaved, waxed and so forth because – to repeat – porn does not just respond to the world, it shapes it; it creates demand in the process of satisfying desire; it doesn't just read our minds, it washes them too.

Except as a spurious and implausible inducement or plot device, the idea of shame is anathema to porn. In The Unbearable Lightness of Being Milan Kundera considers the theological debate as to whether Adam and Eve had sexual intercourse or defecated in paradise. He concludes that without shit (and the attendant sense of shame) there would be no excitement and "no sexual love", that the three things – shit, shame and sex – were all products of the fall. That may be true in the real world – but not in the shameless and shitless (and loveless?) free-for-all that is porno-paradise regained.

Porn is overwhelmingly visual. People in pornoland do the things they do, in the demanding positions they assume, for one reason only: so that we can see what they're up to. Even as we acknowledge that shadows and glimpses, the unseen and unseeable, are key components of any erotic narrative, that narrative is propelled, in part, by the desire to see more and more: with less shadow, in closer close-up, in sharper focus, in HD. At some point, however, it can all get too close and clear, whereupon, as Slavoj Žižek points out, "erotic fascination turns into disgust at the Real of the bare flesh". (Swift comes to mind again, when Gulliver is exposed to the gigantic blackheads and gaping pores of women's bodies in Brobdingnag.)

Taken from porn sites, Thomas Ruff's ongoing series Nudes thwarts the urge to see more and more – and by so doing brings us back to our senses. I mean that literally – to the blurry imprecision of the senses. Several contradictory things go on depending on which photographs you are looking at (or even while looking at the same picture). Porn takes the universal desire to have sex and delivers it and improves on it: perfect bodies, no disease or impotence (as suffered by the porn-addicted Michael Fassbender in Steve McQueen's film Shame), no heartbreak, no regrets, no consequences. But by blurring these images Ruff improves them in the opposite direction. They acquire the uncertainty of memory, the imprecision of unenacted fantasy, the unfocusable swirl of the unconscious, of dreams. Or nightmares in which the idyll becomes either leeringly horrible or ludicrous and laughable. Though they are arranged with only one thing in mind, the original lighting is coaxed into gorgeous subtleties; colours become nuanced, delicate, or expressionistically garish. Acts and actors become more intimate than – and more remote from – the way they appeared on screen. The photographs impart a lyricism to the source material; or, particularly in the recent work, they lay bare the ghastliness and vulgarity of an industry that aims to service desire so thoroughly, so instantly. Hence the poignancy of the moment in Amis's Money when John Self wonders why, with all the hookers and porn available, he still feels the compulsion to jerk off. It's because, he concludes, he needs the human touch.

When I was a teenager masturbation was always and only a substitute for sex with someone. Porn aims to make us forget this, to convince us that masturbation is sex. In the past withdrawing prior to ejaculation was an inefficient and entirely frustrating form of birth control. Now withdrawing and coming over the woman's face – stemming, again, from the pornographic obligation for everything to be on view – is the climactic part of the sex act. A few years back the Guardian columnist Marina Hyde observed that some young men do this – without so much as a by-your-leave – because they think this is how sex is supposed to end. Even the most basic biological urges, it turns out, are extraordinarily susceptible to cultural modification. The line between natural and unnatural behaviour is constantly shifting and changing.

Guardian Review
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Isn't that Ruskin thing a myth? He didn't like his wife because he had... a certain questionable taste?

Anyway, there will be a lot of debate of the impact of porn in the coming (giggity) years because of the generation of people who grew up with it will be old enough to look back and question. It's an interesting issue, because is it really wrong to see other people have sex, or is that sense of wrong just a hang over from more puritanical times? Are we, as a culture, as a race even, a myriad of prudes? I'd argue that as a result of porn, a nude man/woman is no longer sexual, is that a good thing? I'd say it is a good thing, but constantly seeing a certain type of nude women changes a persons perception of how a woman should look, and do we become harder to please in the bedroom because we expect a hairless, big breasted blonde at all times? Is it a bad thing to be more selective?

Questions, questions. One things for sure, it will have an impact, maybe as a breaking of barriers and a normalisation of sex in more uptight cultures, or it will create a race of men/women who expect too much, find those expectations can't be met, and subsequently turn in on themselves and images for pleasure... dehumanising the whole process.

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first one showed quite a bit but they may waant another one for some reason apparently I have got

cartlidge floating about in there

an abnormal socket

impingement syndrome

and my left hip is showing all of the same signs

I just would have thought that the exploratory op would have gave them a better idea, I aint arsed about it being intrusive to be honest its been giving me grief now for over two years so I just want is sorted

I had an MRI on my knee, but when they got in there to operate, they found that all that stuff on the MRI wasn't actually there. May have healed. Regardless they seemed absolutely sure what the situation was once the scope went in. It's only a very small incision I think for the scope to go in so not all that invasive. You will be under general anesthetic though, but once they're in, if they see some damaged cartilage they will fix as they go so it won't just be a look around.

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