Inspired by this thread, as well as by a thread in an outside forum, I thought that it could be interesting to share, here, some medical weirdness we might have been witnesses to (or told to us by reliable individuals).
(Paging Qadgop, paging Qadgop… 
)
I will begin. I come from a medical family (my father was a doctor and my mother was a nurse), and I heard from their lips lots of stories about weird stuff happening at work. I give you here three of them, as I wrote them in another place:
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Busy night at the Emergency Room. Suddenly, huge commotion at the entrance! A bunch of vans arrive, chaos, shouting, and the whole ER is treated to the surreal scene of an enormous mob of really excited black-clad people half-carrying/half-pushing an open casket into the ER and demanding a doctor ipso facto.
After some minutes of utter confusion, the admissions nurse gets to talk to one of the newcomers who appeared to have been chosen as speaker for the rest (who were still wailing and crying very loudly, with huge demonstrations of hysteria). The story that was finally put together (amidst increasing demands for a doctor that were growing in volume and aggressivity) was…
(Obviously, I am rewriting it – in actuality it was quite more disjointed and less “literary”)
…The patriarch of a very important gypsy clan had died, and the whole family (plus dozens of visitors from other clans who had gone there to pay their respects) were holding the wake at his home (open casket, staying with the corpse for the whole night, the works).
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, one of the women sitting next to the casket screamed and almost fainted: The dead man had moved! In his casket! HE WAS ALIVE! DO SOMETHING!
After frantic efforts on the part of the family members (slapping the man, shaking him, spashing him with water…) had failed, they finally decided to load the casket in a van and carry it to the nearest ER. Of course, EVERYBODY who was at the wake came along.
In the end there was no option but to get a doctor to “examine” the corpse, take it for a while inside, and later announce that, unfortunately, in spite of all efforts, their beloved patriarch was finally dead. Better that than trying to explain that the guy had been dead all along and risking a full riot right in the ER!
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My mother worked as a nurse at the dialysis department in the Central Hospital of my city of birth. One of her patients was a very charming gypsy woman, let’s call her Maria; a really funny and witty person who loved to chat with the nurses while she was undergoing dialysis.
Well, one day, while she is there, the hospital got word that the Central Transplant Organization (in Spain transplants are coordinated country-wide) had found a compatible kidney for her. So, my mother went to talk to her and give her the good news:
“Doña Maria! Guess what! Wonderful news!”
“What is it?”
“They have found a kidney for you! Get ready, you’re going to be taken to Madrid soon for the operation!”
And then Maria lets out a scream, crosses herself, and shouts: “NO WAY!”
“But why, Maria? This is your chance of having a normal life again!”
“NOBODY puts ANYTHING from a DEAD MAN inside me! Never, never, never!”
It was impossible to convince her to accept the operation, so in the end they called the transplant center and told them that the patient had declined (I am sure they found another recipient very quickly, though. Unfortunately, organs for transplant are in high demand).
The best thing was that, afterwards, when Maria was getting ready to go home after that particular dialysis session, she went to my mother and said:
“Besides – Now I can come here every two days and spend some hours with you, my friends, talking and having a good time. I am not going to throw that away!”
(Now, that is charming, to a certain extent, don’t you think?) 
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This one is from my father. In the early 1940s he had the “pleasure” of being in jail for political reasons. At that time, Francoist prisons were NOT a fun place to be, especially if you were a “red” (like most of those in that particular prison were). The authorities didn’t give a fig for the well-being of the prisoners; medical care was absent, and because my father was a doctor, he ended up ministering to the health of his fellow prisoners.
One day, he hears people shouting: “Call Don Jose! Call Don Jose! Quick!”. My father went there, and saw three guys holding another who was shaking and convulsing and everything.
“What has happened?”
“We don’t know! He just fell to the ground and began shaking like this! Looks like an epileptic fit!”
My father looked at the guy for a few moments, and told the other three who were restraining him:
“Release him”
“But Don Jose, he is having a fit! He will hurt himself!” (the place was narrow and there were some benches by the walls)
“Release him I say!”
So, the other guys, deciding that my father, as a doctor, possibly knew what he was doing, let the guy go.
After something like 20 or 30 seconds pass, my father says:
"See? Look at him. He is shaking and flipping like crazy… But, in this really narrow place, he is not hitting anything. This is no epileptic fit at all!
“Oh… So, what do we do?”
“No worries, I know what to do!”
With these words my father knelt by the thrashing guy, pulled down his pants, grabbed his balls and squeezed…
…It was a truly miraculous cure, indeed. The patient never had fits again.
:rolleyes:
yes, lots of them!” The stone was about the size of a thumb’s phalanx (waaay too large for a kidney stone) and white.