I went into labor with my first child, and was in the hospital and about to get an IV.

The doctor who showed up to get it started gave me a long spiel about how technique is everything, and done properly, an IV stick shouldn't even leave a bruise.

While he apparently had convinced himself he had attained master status in the insertion of IV needles, the reality was that the next day, my inner arm looked like it had been slammed in a door - black and blue like I had never seen before.

One more:

The first time I dislocated my shoulder, the docs decided to put it back in under what is known as conscious sedation.  A cocktail of drugs is administered on a gradual basis, and the patient's vitals assessed before additional medication is given.  

Well, they kept giving me the drugs, giving me more and more and more.  I was still awake, talking coherently, engaged with the medical personnel on hand.  Finally, the doctor said that I just had to be sedated enough - that he didn't know why I was still awake and talking, but that they had had patients of linebacker size who had gone into respiratory arrest with this much medication on board...and I was way smaller than any linebacker.

They were successful in putting my arm back where it belonged, and while I was told that with conscious sedation I wouldn't remember anything, I am here to tell you I remember it all.  Clearly.

I could never make the transition to the dentist, which she did, that is real pain, not the equivalent to pulling out a facial hair.

So now whenever I stub my toe or something else painful, I tell myself to enjoy the pain, while I never actually enjoy it, it makes it hurt less if that makes sense.
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After getting a needle in the toe, doc grabs the ankle , then the toe and tries to pop it back in place. No go on round one
After a short break , he tries again...No go

He tries once more, again after another shot to the toe. Nope, not happening.

His dad was there when it happened, but the remarkable thing, he told me they are cranes everywhere, hundreds of them because they are expanding and that when it's done, Mecca will have a capacity of 5 million people.  To which I commented is more than the actually city of Houston, nearly double.

That is unbelievable to me.

Wiki says:

Masjid al-Haram, aka as the Sacred Mosque
900,000 worshippers (increased to 4,000,000 worshippers during the Hajj period)

Some people just like to get high via illegal means.  Equating them with those who truly suffer from a mental disorder is wrong.  

After getting busted with weed, the concerned folks convinced my parents that rehab was the only way to cure my 'problem', which was getting high about four times a week.  So I spent 10 days in adult rehab my senior year, which was actually pretty awesome.  My physics lab partner, and future close friend, was the guy who delivered our meals, which we had menus to choose from.  He hooked me up, and I ate better there than home, plus there is absolutely nothing to do, except smoke cigs and watch TV, which for a highschooler was pretty cool, school just wiped that period off, my grades were unaffected.  10 days is the time it takes for all the physiological tests to come back and declare I had no problem.  It was my first parent free vacation.

At rehab I met several adults who I later hung out with, people a year or two older who were court ordered.  Talk about a mistake, taking a kid and putting him in with adults.  After that I declared to my parents that they can suck it, and from that point on I more of less emancipated myself, not legally, but in our home I was a freeman, declaring the experts declared I had no problem.  It's the point in time I started openly smoking at home, really, when I started smoking.  Before it was here and there, but at rehab everyone seriously smoked.  

Keep in mind this is white bread rehab, at the world famous Marshfield clinic, where no one was there for hard drugs, some court ordered young people, but for the most part middle aged pill poppers who had families, people who wanted to quit, but had not ruined their lives.  No crack heads or heroin junkies, just first world rehab folks who couldn't kick the pills their doctors were subscribing.  Not that it isn't serious, but they weren't committing crimes to get the goods.

When decisions are made in regard to drugs and youth, to say they always error on the side of caution would be a huge understatement.  I don't know the answers, but I know that school nurses aren't the people who should be determining who is at risk of an infection much less a serious problem.  I read this as diverting parental responsibility to the school that will operate under the popular notion of better safe than sorry.

My experience only emboldened me towards my parents and to be perfectly honest, connected me up with folks who I had no business hanging out with.  While I never became an addict, I certainly stepped it up a notch.

But the worse part about all of it was the reputation I got, which I tried not to care about, but when you go to rehab, no one is buying you don't have a problem.  And while friends didn't care, just the opposite, but I was treated differently and that is not healthy for any kid to be treated like an addict by teachers and administrators and even parents.  You can never shake that label, and no one wants you hanging around their kid.  When in fact experts had declared I should have never been admitted, that the decision was just a waste of resources.  That is in part why I felt the need to lash-out towards my parents, they bought into the whole Reagan BS and I suffered for their stupidity, so in my teenager angst thinking, they suffered for being duped into letting others decide how to best handle a little weed discovery.  Keep in mind the police were not part of this equation.

History Of Discovery and Naming

According to Aboriginal Dreamtime legend, the first platypus was born after an attractive young female duck mated with a lonely and persuasive water-rat. The duck's offspring had their mother's bill and webbed feet and their father's legs and handsome brown fur.

Early written records suggest that indigenous people were aware that the platypus was both egg-laying and venomous facts that were only confirmed by European scientists after many decades of study. Traditional names for the species included "mallangong" and "tambreet" in New South Wales. Among the Wurundjeri people (who occupied much of Victoria) the name for the platypus was dulaiwarrung. Platypuses were hunted for food in the water using long spears, but the meat appears not to have been highly prized.

After the British colony in Australia was founded in 1788, the strange appearance of the platypus soon fascinated the new arrivals. Early colonists called the platypus a "water mole" or a duckbill.