Seventy-four-year-old Dirk Schroeder went into a hospital in Germany to undergo surgery to treat his prostate cancer, which is surprising, because we assumed that all buildings in Germany were terrifying old castles made of chocolate. Everything seemed to go well at first, but for the next several months, Schroeder's pain level gradually intensified to an excruciating degree, which is the opposite of what was supposed to happen. Then one of his nurses noticed a pad of gauze beginning to ooze its way out of one of his surgery wounds. So Schroeder was sent back to the Bavarian Medical Palace, where it was soon discovered that his doctors had left no less than 16 different items in his body, as if they had confused his vivisected torso for the floor of a taxicab.
"Open him back up; I need somewhere to spit out my gum."
The treasure trove of medical waste left inside Schroeder's body for no conceivable reason included an entire roll of bandages, a compress, several more gauze pads, a fucking needle, and part of a surgical mask, because why the hell not? Evidently the doctors expected Schroeder to die right then and there and were doing their best to turn his body into a time capsule.
"Heartbeat? No, I'm listening for ticking. I lost my watch a week ago and I've looked everywhere else."