Roid Rage

I recently went though surgery.  It was a personal issue that needed to be taken care of for more than a decade.  I finally decided to bite the bullet and make it happen.  I found it hard to talk about because of its personal nature.  But prior to the day of the surgery I needed to tell certain people that it was going to happen, for example, my work place needed to know for scheduling purposes—the recovery time for this particular operation is a full two weeks.

I just couldn’t do it.  I went with the “it’s personal” approach when pressed for details.  In hindsight, this approach only leaves people asking more questions.  “Is it an outpatient thing or will you be hospitalized?”  “Are you going to die?”

So enough already!  Here it goes:  I have had hemorrhoids for years.  And this year was my breaking point.  I’m having them removed!  Want to see the pictures?  Suddenly I have a strange desire for a bowl of grapes.

At the time of this writing, I’m only twenty-four hours into my recovery phase.  Let me tell you, this sucks.  So I humbly ask that if you want to, please, pray for my ass.  Literally.

Although going public with my situation may cause me to be the butt of some jokes (yeah, I went there before you could), I felt that at this point I needed to share the humor that I heard from the voices in my head.

I got a referral to a qualified butt doctor—that is exactly the wording on their diplomas.  And as it turns out, the doctor I selected is a female doctor.  Immediately I thought, “Oh no!  This is going to be so awkward.”  However, if the doctor was a male doctor, I would have been thinking, “Oh no!  This is going to be so awkward.”  So I made the appointment and entered it into my calendar with the title of “Appointment with Dr. Rear.”

My initial appointment rolled around so that Dr. Rear can determine how exactly how the operation will proceed.  There is only one way that this exam is done—physically.  So Dr. Rear and her much younger female medical student (more awkwardness) begin by explaining how this exam will proceed: dropping my pants, leaning over the table, a rubber glove examination, and finally an “instrument probing” which is sitting on the tray against the wall—the instrument kind of looks like an intercontinental ballistic missile.  Oh boy.

And they’re off!  The finger part of the exam came and went rather quickly but somehow Dr. Rear managed to say “just relax” about three dozen times in the thirty seconds or so that it took.  Relax?  I don’t think so.

Next, the rocket that was placed “up there” was far larger than Dr. Rear’s little female fingers.  Enough said.  It was at this point that Dr. Rear said, “Hmm. I’m going to have to switch instruments and use one that has a light on it.”

In recounting this story for my wife, she said, “Did Dr. Rear not know that it was going to be dark up there?  Where exactly did she graduate from?”

So I completed the exam and scheduled both the pre-op doctor appointment and the actual surgery.  The pre-op appointment was with my regular doctor.  Basically the pre-op appointment is to certify that I am in good health and can survive a surgery.  So the doctor’s assistant (another young female—yet more awkwardness) is taking my temperature and reading my blood pressure and filling out forms.  The pre-op certification form begins with “What type of surgery?”  So she asks me just that and I respond with, “Hemorrhoids”.   She quickly looks down and says rather sheepishly, “ok”.  I then asked my own question, “You want to talk about the details?”  She said no and quickly moved on to the other more generic questions: heart issues, diabetic, allergies to medications, etc.  And then for no reason that I could comprehend even now, she threw out this question: “So you are having the hemorrhoids removed?”

I responded with, “No.  Surgical augmentation.  I want them to be larger and more pronounced.”  She turned red and moved on.

The day of the surgery rolls around and I’m being prepped for surgery.  Dr. Rear comes in to greet me and my wife and gives us a warm reassurance that everything should go smoothly.  She also introduces her up-and-coming medical student that will be “shadowing” her for the “observation experience” with my consent and permission.  It’s another young female medical student.  Go figure.  I shook her hand and said, “Sure.  It should be a great show.”

Following the administration of my knock-out drugs I remember absolutely nothing.  Which is exactly what I wanted.  I crawled up onto the operating table and regained memories starting in the recovery room.  Perfect.

In the recovery room I had the oddest bout of uncontrollable sobbing and tears.  It was so weird because I even said out loud that I didn’t know why I was crying.  The nurse explained that she sees all sorts of different reactions to the drugs used during operations.  I asked if someone was telling me sad stories while in the operating room.  She said, “No, but I did show you my paycheck and you have been crying ever since.”

Well that’s my story and now I’m on the road to complete recovery.  Hemorrhoids aren’t that embarrassing, are they?  It’s not like I did something to cause them.

I’m not sure how to wrap this blog entry up.  I guess the next time you see me, you can buy me an Angel Food Cake so that I can sit down comfortably.  It’s going to be a long couple of weeks.

cake

Buy my books which have absolutely nothing to do with hemorrhoids.

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26 responses to “Roid Rage

  1. Ouch
    That’s all I’ve got..

  2. Hope it all works out ” in the end.” Oops! Sorry! Just had to go there.

  3. Whoa, that blows.
    If they jump on your case you can always retort, “If you’re not a hemorrhoid, get off my ass.” *drum snare*

    Speedy recovery on your derriere.

    ~ Darling

  4. I see your ballistic missile and raise you 10….if you think having an ICBM up your bum is no fun, you should try the “spreader” device they use for “female” exams. It like two metal spatulas, always cold mind you–I think they keep them in the freezer for giggles. It has this ratcheting device and you can hear (and feel) it when they ziiiiipppp it wider. They always precede insertion by saying, “You are going to feel some discomfort.” Well, no sh*t Sherlock tell me something I don’t know. I’m glad you were unconscious for most of it for what that is worth. Wishing you a speedy and cushiony recovery. PS: I’ll send you some fruit cakes I received as Xmas presents…maybe you can use those to sit on, provided they are still fresh, of course.

    • You know, I was going to put in the disclamer that woman everywhere go through this kind of humility and discomfort on a yearly basis. I guess I now have more sympathy for you now. And I’ll need one fresh fruit cake per cheek, please.

  5. When I went in for a colonoscopy, the doctor and his delightful (seriously!) nurses took me through the prep process up to the point the administered the drug to knock me out. (“Thank you, sweet Jesus!”)

    I had a Greshong line embedded in my chest at the time that allowed needle-free blood sampling, drug administering, and transfusions. The doctor was really happy about that because he knew I had a vascular disease that makes it difficult to find a decent blood vessel to do these things.

    However, the fitting was one that they didn’t have the right syringe for. They had to go to hospital stores for the right one.

    While stretched out on the examination table, I noticed activity on the video screen above me. In short time, I realized it was a closed circuit view of the scene taken by THE camera that would shortly be stuffed up my butt:

    “Butt Cam!” I chortled to myself as I watched those sweet nurses walk in and out of the scene on the screen.

    “We’re pleased you are so relaxed, even enjoying yourself, Mr. Thomas!” one of the angels said to me.

    “Hey! You all have made me feel so comfortable about what’s about to happen, I just have to laugh at how silly my fears about the procedure were!” LOL! (“That and the fact you are on Butt Cam! What dignity is there in this for any of us?!”)

  6. Snoring Dog Studio

    I’m not laughing at you – I’m laughing at this most hilarious post! My gosh, you’re funny. You have my sympathy. Awkwardness all around. It will all work out in the end, I’m sure. One word: Fiber.

  7. My family (and consequently myself included) have a long and checkered history with hemorrhoids. I feel your pain brother. Thanks for sharing.

    • Hats off to you and yours. I try to find humor in all that I do. Found it in the days leading up to my operation. Since then….dang, nothing funny happening here. Roids are a pain in the ass, and removed roids are also a pain in the ass.

  8. I’m so sorry that you had to go through this, my friend. I always thought that this must be the most awkward thing to confront. And I hope your recovery went smoothly. What a pain in the ass.

    • Awkward-yes…bring on the follow-up appointments. God bless you, Scorchy. The fact that you send me your sympathy for the short period of my life where I can’t exactly sit straight up, after all that you have traveled through (and continue to travel), only shows me once again that you are a beautiful soul trapped in a broken shell. Those that know you, including me, have been blessed. I continue to pray that both of our recoveries will allow us to sit up straight as soon as possible.

      • You’re a peach and are so kind. I have stage iv cancer, but at least I don’t have anyone poking around my ass. If I had “ass cancer,” I’d just have to go. Boundaries, people! 😛 I wish you many soft donut seats. Wait! Look out the window! Donut seats are falling like snowflakes!

        ((((((((((HUGS))))))))))

  9. This was the funniest thing that I have read in a long time. I must wipe my eyes….wonderful blog!

  10. This was funny! I think laughter is the remedy for embarrassing moments! I really enjoyed your response to that dumb question about whether you were having the hemorrhoids removed!
    Now, it is all behind you! (hehehe!)

  11. Oh, this post made me laugh. “No. Surgical augmentation. I want them to be larger and more pronounced.”—Haha, great comeback.

    As someone who went through medical school years ago, I think it’s nice you let the students observe your exam and surgery. Everybody has to learn. Even about rectal veins. 😉

  12. Marcus – how are you feeling now? Are you fully recovered? I need more details about your recovery. I need this surgery too (although the doc – a young female, although I agree, totally awkward and horrible no matter the gender! – said I could wait) but I’m terrified of something going wrong. An infection or complication. It’s out of control. I have issues that these ridiculous things only complicate and have to have a colonoscopy this week for these other issues. I’ve had them for so long I can’t even imagine life without them! Glad you decided to go public with this so I can ask you about it and not have to put it out there on my own blog lol.

    • I sent you an e-mail with details.
      In summary (for anyone else that wants to know), it was a very rough full two week recovery time with no complications. I would go again. But glad that I never will.

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