 As the mission of this site is to engage people in our local community this page is intended to feature funny stories that remind us of the importance of a good laugh. While Brian Carr serves as the initial submitter in this category it is hoped that others will add to the collection. We welcome suggestions for posting on this site. Please email the article link to bha@wiredbrush.com "Broke My Leg"
Over the course of several years I developed a repetitive motion strain in my right shoulder. At first the symptoms were sufficiently relieved by steroid injections into my shoulder but the pain persisted so that, in the Summer of 2000 I finally agreed to surgery. Although my brother Robert (orthopedic surgeon) had been providing care for me earlier on I was smart enough to know that one of his partners needed to be called on for the surgery. You never know if he might not have forgiven me for breaking his model airplanes when we were kids. Like many doctors I do not make a very good patient and so it was that early one morning I reported to Covenant Lakeside to have my clavicle reshaped by Dr. Bryan Smitherman. My blood pressure was elevated, hands were clammy, and I sat uneasily on the side of the bed waiting to be taken to pre-op. I knew that the surgery was very common and Dr. Smitherman had done a good job of cheering me up about the benefits that would be obtained. Taken up to the pre-op area a kindly nurse noticed that I was ill-at-ease and give me Ativan IV which was excellent in relieving my anxiety. Taken into the surgical suite I said hello to the team and scooted over to the table for the procedure. My last memory was watching the IV push of the medication that brought me quickly into unconsciousness. My next fade memory was awakening back in the day surgery room. My wife by my side. Although still dulled by the medications I noticed that my right shoulder was numb and stiff as I had expected. However, my gaze downward toward my feet brought a surprise as I discovered my lower left leg was in a cast. Turning to my wife I asked, "what happened?" to which she replied, "There was a horrible accident, you fell off the table in the OR and broke your leg". Announcing my intent to sue someone I succumbed to the effects of the lingering drugs and lapsed back into sleep. My next moment of clarity brought even more confusion. My shoulder yes...My leg no! At that point I extended my disbelief as I found my entire body had been scribbled on with markers. Cute sayings and people's signatures were peppered across my arms, belly, and legs. Being a political person I noticed that one set of toes spelled out BUSH and the other GORE. I was a pitiful sight and my wife exclaimed, "I can't keep letting you suffer" and she explained what had taken place. The surgery was uneventful and had gone to plan. My clavicle was successfully shaved off and the problem was relieved. After being wheeled out to the recovery area my brother and sister (Julie is an R.N. who was working for my brother at the time) launched into their devious plan. While still intubated my brother cast my lower leg assisted by my sister and Dr. Smitherman. They then invited other doctors and nurses passing through the OR area to "come sign Brian". I must admit it is alot funnier now than it was then! My brother Bobby came into the room as my wife was finishing her explanation. She helped him remove the cast while they chuckled (perhaps even giggled). After I had a full recover of my senses I was taken out to the patient ramp by wheelchair and assisted into the car. It took several days to get the marker messages off my body. I otherwise healed without incident. A nurse called me the day after surgery to inquiry about my recovery. She asked, "how is your leg". For several months afterwards I would be stopped by doctors who had "signed me" as they encouraged me to "let that leg heal". Several months later my sister-in-law had surgery. No one would tell me where for fear of reprisal. My family may have its share of professionals but don't think that it means that we can't have a laugh. "Why a Duck" While "follow the money" can be helpful in understanding a situation there are other times when one is left to wonder why you are involved. During my undergraduate days at Texas Tech University I enjoyed the many opportunities for college life outside the classroom. I served with pride in the "Goin' Band from Raider Land" playing my trumpet from 1975 to 1980. I was a student senator during the tenure of Robert Duncan as President of the Student Government Association. I enjoyed the mixers and parties of my social fraternity. Upon my return to practice in Lubbock in 1990 I was asked to serve as the advisor to my college fraternity and later because president of the "Advisor's Group" which consisted of all 23 social fraternities advisors. Over the years I became accustom to the demands of the position and recognized that the university didn't care for our advocacy of the Greek organizations and the young men in those groups didn't like our attempts to guide and protect them. Over those years I came to understand that anything was possible. As college students have always displayed an amazing capacity to show a lack of common sense I learned that one could only proceed without asking the Dr. Phil question of "What were you thinking?". In a visit to my own fraternity house I discovered copious amounts of feces droppings across the floors. Angered by this discover I telephoned the president and demanded to know what had taken place. "Did someone have a dog left up here", I asked. The reply was "It wasn't a dog" which was my first clue that there was a twist. It seemed that someone had the bright idea to conduct a "treasure hunt" with their pledge class and collect various items, one of which was a duck. I can only imagine the coordinated attack that took place in the dark of night as a duck was snared from a local park and taken back to the house. Of course, being a duck it did what ducks do and proceeded to leave droppings throughout the house. The mess left some of the more reasonable men to conclude that the duck had to be removed and so it was taken to an individual's home. With visions of the Lubbock A-J front page banner decrying, "Students caught in Foul of Fowl" I prepared for the worse. Thankfully I received news that the duck was unharmed and with dutiful oversight the president saw to it that it was released back into the park safely. We had to revise the housing rules, which previously had forbid dogs or cats on the premise, to include "all animals, domestic and wild". I wanted to ensure that a stray water buffalo would not be snuck in under a loop hole. I didn't want PETA or others to come after the group as they create enough problems with just their usual behaviors. "Where is your
hall pass? and other stories of the Tech Band" Music has always been central to my life. As a youngster I was obliged to travel to my father's parent's house to practice piano under my grandmother's instruction. She had played piano for her father during his years as a circuit rider in the East Texas Methodist Church conference. Sadly neither I nor any of the other grandchildren continued the tradition that she had set in learning how to play. I did however begin to play other instruments and through my public school years played trumpet. I truly believe that my high school band director C. Doyle Gammill keep me motivated so that I survived high school. In 1975 I entered Texas Tech where I played with great pride under the directorship of Dean Killion. Regardless of how the team did the Red Raider band always carried the day. While the student body might act in less than respectful ways the band was always behaved. When we joked around it was never insulting as we wanted to uphold the tradition of clean fun. When Texas Tech and Texas would meet in football we would always ensure that the Longhorn band didn't go thirsty but serving them containers of "Big Red". They would return the favor by supplying us with "Orange Crush". Alternatively we would offer them red apples for snacks and they would, of course, provide us with oranges. The Aggie band didn't get involved in such things. I suspect they had their hands full walking and playing at the same time. Out of town games would have the 450+ band taking over entire hotels. Pranks with freshmen were just too easy to pass up. "Where is your hall pass", was the challenge given to any freshmen out of their rooms. Confronted by teams of upperclassmen they would retreat in fear and apologies. Tuba players would spend hours buffing the silver of their instruments using kotexs and under the close supervision of their more senior members. Certain days in practice would be "yellow day" when you would wear a yellow shirt or other clothing. Dean Killion was reported to have been color blind for yellow and he would have difficulty yelling out his observations "you in the....what color is that shirt?". Phrases that are common sense are burned into my mind from those years. "Better to have it and not need it then need it and not have it" particularly when talking about long underwear or a raincoat. You had better be "in your spot" on the practice field everyday during the fall semester or face the wrath of your section leader or Dean. There were many things I learned in college from those great days in the band.
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