Cold Feet, Severed Heads, and Lobster Pots: The Chilling Realities of Cryonics Gone Wrong

So you’ve decided you want to cheat death. Good for you. While the rest of us are rotting in the dirt like commoners, you’ll be off in a nitrogen-powered nap pod waiting for the future to invent a cure for being really, really dead. Enter cryonics: the totally-not-a-scam industry that promises your grandkids can defrost you like a Salisbury steak and have brunch with your thawed corpse in 2173.  

 

Sorry, Pop-Pop. We ran out of frozen peas.

 

But before you sign away your life's savings and your brain pan, let’s take a moment to appreciate what happens when cryonics goes exactly as well as you think it would when run by TV repairmen, monkey-wrench-wielding interns, and feuding Russian divorcees.

 

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1. The Chatsworth Catastrophe: Nine Popsicles and a TV Repairman

Back in the groovy 1970s, a guy named Robert Nelson, whose qualifications included not being a scientist, decided to start freezing dead people. He stuffed nine corpses into a crypt in Chatsworth, California and left them there like unlabeled leftovers. Then the money ran out. The liquid nitrogen ran out. And, shocker, the bodies also ran out... of structural integrity.

When the vault was opened years later, what they found wasn't the future of immortality. It was The Walking Dead: Crock-Pot Edition. Maggot buffet. Meltdown city. If you’ve ever left a bag of shrimp in your trunk for a week, you’re halfway to understanding the smell.

And yes, he got sued. And yes, he lost. And no, he never paid a dime. But hey, the dream lives on. Just not the people. 

👉 Read it and weep

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2. The Frozen Head Homicide: Dora Kent and the Great Coroner Showdown

In 1987, sweet little Dora Kent was on her way out. So naturally, the folks at Alcor did the logical thing, waited until she died and then chopped off her head. Except the coroner smelled something fishy. (And it wasn’t just the head in a bucket.) Toxicology reports showed sedatives in her system. The coroner accused Alcor of euthanizing her early to get that brain nice and fresh.

A SWAT-style raid ensued. They tried to seize her head for autopsy. Alcor responded by hiding it like it was the Hope Diamond. You know it’s bad when a legal document has to use the phrase “custody of the cranium.”

Eventually, charges were dropped. Mostly because the prosecution realized that thawing the head would technically kill her again, and that’s just bad optics.

👉 Seriously, this happened

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3. Ted Williams: Baseball Legend, Freezer Burn Casualty

You’d think if anyone could get the deluxe treatment, it’d be the Boston Red Sox Ted Freakin’ Williams. Instead, Alcor popped his head off like a bottle cap and dropped it in a lobster pot. (Yes, really.) According to a whistleblower, his brain cracked like a sidewalk in winter, and an employee took batting practice on his head with a monkey wrench. Just to lighten the mood.

His family fought over whether he wanted this in the first place. His son said yes. His daughter said no. Alcor said “We already put the head in storage, sooooo…”

Whether you loved him for his batting average or just really enjoy sports-themed decapitations, the story will stick with you. Especially the part about brain fractures.

👉 See the horror 

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4. Mary Robbins: Granny’s Head vs. Her Kids

Mary Robbins signed up to have her head frozen, which already makes family holidays weird. But after she died, her kids said she changed her mind. Alcor said, “Yeah, no. Signed contract.” They showed up to the funeral parlor to collect her noggin while the family screamed bloody murder.

A judge agreed with Alcor. Her head went off to join the frozen gang, leaving behind a family that now has to argue over who gets to put flowers on the neckless gravestone.

👉 Legal tug-of-war over a frozen granny head

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5. Whileon Chay: The Ponzi Scheme That Froze His Wife

Whileon Chay didn’t just commit financial fraud. He committed romantic financial fraud. He stole $5 million from investors and used part of it to cryogenically preserve his dead wife. Because nothing says eternal love like felony embezzlement.

He fled the country when the feds closed in. His wife is still on ice, paid for by duped retirees who thought they were investing in gold. Turns out the only thing gold-plated was the tank holding Mrs. Chay’s brain.

👉 Money well stolen

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6. Dr. Laurence Pilgeram: Don’t Lose Your Head Over Legal Loopholes

Dr. Pilgeram paid for whole-body cryonics. He wanted to wake up someday with all his limbs, presumably to flip the bird at mortality. But when he died and his body was found too late, Alcor went for Plan B: remove the head, cremate the body, and mail the ashes to his son.

His son sued. Hard. Claimed Alcor violated the contract and decapitated Daddy against his wishes. He wanted the head back. Alcor said nope. The head is ours now.

Imagine this: You open a box expecting flowers and find your dad’s torso in dust form. If that’s not grounds for therapy, I don’t know what is.

👉 Dad’s head, mailed ashes, and a lawsuit

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7. JS: The Teenager Who Froze Her Way Into the Law Books

At 14, JS was dying of cancer and wanted to be cryopreserved. Her dad said no. The court said “Shut up, Dad” and gave full control to the mother. The father was worried he’d be stuck footing the bill, but the judge clarified that he wouldn’t be charged for the braincicle. Nice gesture.

The grandparents scraped together the cash, and now JS is chilling in Michigan. Somewhere, there’s a teenager’s head in a vat of nitrogen waiting for someone to invent time-travel medicine. And yes, a judge actually ruled this was fine.

👉 Frozen teen breaks legal ice

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8. Russia’s Frozen Body Heist: Cryo-Gone-Spy

In the most metal breakup ever, Russian cryonics founders Danila Medvedev and Valeriya Udalova got divorced and turned the fallout into a frozen corpse custody war. Udalova showed up at the facility with bolt cutters and a U-Haul, stole several frozen bodies and brains, and spilled liquid nitrogen all over the parking lot like it was a Mario Kart power-up.

Police stopped her truck. Dewars clanking. Brains jostling. And they still had to argue in court over who legally owns the dead. Because apparently you can fight over your ex’s brain hoard.

👉 Seriously, Russia?

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So yeah. Cryonics. Not just a science fiction fantasy. It’s also a deeply disturbing, legally complicated, sometimes criminal, occasionally headless mess of a hope.

Still want to freeze your grandma? Make sure her head’s got TSA clearance and no one in the family has a wrench.

Gift cards now available at Wal-Mart and CVS

L - Loss

A couple of years ago, I had to have periodontal surgery. It's not fun. My front bottom teeth are compacted together. They are very very tight, which makes it very difficult to get them cleaned properly since dental floss doesn't even like to get in between some of them.

Throughout the rest of my mouth, everything is fine. but the bottom front has always been difficult. I have one tooth in particular that has been especially troublesome. And about two months ago, it became very very loose.

It's loose enough that sometimes if I bite into something wrong it puts pressure on the tooth and presses it in an uncomfortable direction. I eventually could noticably wiggle it with my tongue.

But this morning, I had enough and ventured out to see what Beijing has to offer in the world of dentistry.

After trying a few places that couldn't fit me in today, I met a guy on the subway who recommended a place at the next stop. It was on the second floor of a hotel, but he suggested I go since they were rarely busy.

It was great. I was in and out of there in under and hour and only paid about $165 for an X-ray, teeth cleaning and a tooth extraction. It's times like this that I love China.

Crooked Swollen Knuckle Sandwich

I've been in a lot of pain lately. It's been going on for a couple of years, but the worst of it has been in the last few months. I started a rather physical job in October and my joints have been killing me ever since. Some days I can't lift one of my arms above my shoulder. Other days, one of my hands will swell and I can't hold on to anything causing me to drop everything I touch at work. I've had some days when I've had to call in sick because I can't walk. Luckily, the job offers plenty of personal leave days.

Until this month, I had maintained my manhood and avoided any doctor. I would just pop some pain pills and try to power through it, but I was missing so many days of work, I was beginning to worry if I could realistically even keep my job. One day, while accompanying my wife to an appointment because I wanted to hear what her doctor said about a test result that had us a little concerned, he talked me into coming to see him the following week. So much for being a man.

At that appointment I told him about my concerns and he ordered a bunch of blood work and wanted me to keep a food diary until I returned to see him two weeks later.

Doctor-requested food diaries suck. Do you know how long it takes to eat a Family Size bag of M&M's when you have to weigh each one?

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 14, 2016

When I returned for that appointment, he walked into the room looking at my food diary and asked, "Is this real?"

I replied, "Well, yeah. I tried to be completely honest and not deviate just because I was recording everything for you."

He shook his head and said, "You eat like a homeless teenager digging leftovers out of White Castle and Applebee's dumpsters. I don't know how your body is functioning. I mean, according to this, for six days in a row your breakfast was Mt Dew!"

"Yeah. It takes too long to make coffee."

With raised eyebrows, he said, "Two days ago for supper you had a rack of ribs on bread"

 "I took the bones out."

He pointed at the paper, "There are no vegetables on here. For two whole weeks! Not a single vegetable"

I retorted, "Not true. I had vegetables last night. Spinach, sweet potatoes and tomatoes."

He glanced back at the paper and shook his head, "Veggie Straws are NOT vegetables." He then pulled out his own paper and sympathetically said, "Okay, let's try this. You really need to eat more fruits and vegetables, so let's make a list of which ones you like. What vegetables do you like?"

I got excited, "I know this one. Macaroni and cheese!"

He looked at my wife and pleaded, "Can you make sure there's fruits and vegetables in the house and that he eats them?" She agreed.

He said, "Good. Let's move on to your test results."

For the next half hour we went over what was found in my x-rays and my blood work and there was plenty found, but the best part had to do with the results of a particular test. When he pulled this up on his computer, his eyes got wide and he said to his assistant, "Have you ever seen that number that high?" His assistant, whose eyes were even wider just shook his head.

I pretty sure >300 is more than 3

You only need to score over a three to test positive for rheumatoid arthritis and I scored over three hundred. In fact, we don't even know what my actual score is because the charts only go to three hundred. I can actually say that my numbers were literally 'off the charts'.

After taking a few minutes to look at the results of several other tests, which all confirmed the same thing, he turned to me and gently said, "I hate to tell you this, but you have rheumatoid arthritis."

I smiled and said, "Okay."

He seemed a little taken back that I was taking it so well, but I pretty much already knew this. It had never been confirmed by a doctor before that day, but I knew. So, his grave declaration didn't get the response he was expecting.

Because my numbers were so high and he was able to locate several nodules in my hands and did see some degenerative damage in the X-rays of my feet, he put me on some pretty powerful drugs immediately to try to get it under control before we start the actual treatment. I don't know what that treatment will be yet, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. If it works, I won't have to cross it in a wheelchair.

I have another appointment in two weeks. For that one, we will go over my food diary again to see if I took his advice and I will be asking what the implications are of having that incredibly high number that seemed to startle him so much. Cross your fingers. I would do it myself, but they just don't move that way any more.

My test results came back and, as I suspected, I have arthritis. If it gets too bad, I'll just start tweeting with my nose.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 6, 2016

This Crap Stays Between Us

Due to my job of delivering office supplies around town, I spend a lot of time in my car listening to the radio instead of playing Candy Crush Saga or watching Big Bang Theory. It's amazing the things you learn if you just pay attention. Yesterday, the radio got my attention when I heard the phrase "poop in a pill."

Yes, the reporter actually used the word 'poop.' I always thought 'feces' was a more professional word, but he said 'poop.'

Apparently, medical scientists really have made a pill full of poop. You can read about it here.

If you are like me (or like any normal person), you are probably asking yourself, "Uh...why?"

Believe it or not, there actually is a medical reason for this. According to the news story, there are some intestinal infections that make a lot of people really sick and can even be deadly, but don't respond well to antibiotics. What do they respond to?

MORE POOP!

After being told our entire lives to wash our hands after going to the bathroom, doctors have started treating certain infections with poop. For the last two decades, doctors treated these infections with fecal transplants. 'Fecal transplant' is the medical way of saying that they took someone else's crap and stuck it in your butt.

These fecal transplants work because…well, wait a moment.

Try to remember I am not a medical professional and will do my best to explain this, but will be using layman's terms.

These fecal transplants work because, healthy crap (HA HA) has the bacterial enzymes needed to fight the infection. The doctor would normally select the crap of a close family member to attempt to recreate the intestinal environment the bacteria are accustomed to. You know, because a happy bacteria is more effective than unhappy bacteria. Apparently, one-celled organisms are temperamental. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that playing soothing music into the rectum afterward makes them work even more efficiently.

If you happen to be the recipient of one of these 'poop surgeries' and are bothered by the fact that someone else's crap has been inserted into your mudhole, you can take some comfort in knowing that it is not a stranger's turd in your butt, but your mother's. Not much will bring a family closer together.

However, regardless of whose crap is now invading your intestinal tract, it is still a procedure that most doctors and patients would like to avoid. This is where the poop pill comes into play. Scientists have found a way to extract the necessary enzymes directly from the donor turds so they can be prepared to be taken orally in pill form. They are made into pills because a suppository would sort of defeat the purpose.

Now, a pill may be less invasive than an enema, but you can't deny that this is still the eating of crap sanctioned by the medical profession. In fact, I can already see how the next Thanksgiving would go at my house if this happened to one of us. Right after filling our plates, I would lean over to my brother and whisper, "Remember that time you ate my sh*t?"

 Nevertheless, they are seeing great success with this new product.

Since it looks like this just may be the intestinal infection treatment of the future, it only stands to reason that the price of crap is about to increase. I haven't been able to find any crap investments to buy into, but I do have plenty I could sell and I make more all the time.

When I was in college, I used to donate plasma. They gave me $25 every time, but I could only do this once every six weeks. If someone established a donor center to accept Fecal Donations and paid the same rate, I could make a deposit every day. That's $750 a month! That would pay my rent and my power bill! A family of four could make enough money that no one would have to work. Or at the very least, their crap donations might be enough to supplement their Obamacare health plan.