I thought for Thanksgiving Id depart slightly from the traditional Android-type post and present this story of thankfulness, hopefully for your enjoyment. This post was originally shared on my wifes private family blog on June 13, 2010.
FYI: THIS POST CONTAINS FAR TOO MUCH INFORMATION ON A PARTICULARLY PRIVATE MATTER. IF YOURE EASILY OFFENDED, GROSSED OUT, OR YOU GET EASILY UPSET WHEN PEOPLE SHARE TOO MUCH ABOUT THEIR PRIVATE LIVES, SKIP THIS POST. I EXPECT NO COMMENTS ON THE GROSSNESS OR OVERSHARING OF THIS POST. IF NOT, OR YOURE SOME PERVERTED PEEPING TOM, PLEASE ENJOY.
There are far too many signs in ones life that youre getting old. Sagging parts, wrinkly skin, excessive hair-loss and balding, not-so-dashing good looks, weight gain, and medical problems. Unfortunately, each of us faces our own (or multiple) old-age-foes. My condolences to those readers who suffer from one, if not many of these problems.
Fortunately, Im the epitome of good health and good looks. Those routine problems have not affected my stunning good looks, nor my physical or mental health.
That is, until Wednesday. I finally got a taste of what old age is like. Please take me back! Wednesday started like any other routine day. I woke up, ran 40 0 miles, ate a healthy breakfast (I think we made nutritious portions of biscuits and gravy), and left for work. The day seemed like any other normal day.
My normalcy changed though about 3 p.m., when I started feeling a significant pain in my arse (no I wasnt my family). The slow ache centered (literally) on or near that excrement hole. I gingerly negotiated a trip to the pizza store, and a picnic with my kids while Megan tended to our Cub Scout responsibilities. By 7, the pain was nearly unbearable. For the next hour, I comforted my arse by sitting and relieving the pressure and pain. I suffered the rest of the evening with doses of Tylenol and ibuprofen, mixed with some teaspoon shots of some other left-over liquid pain killer.
My wife, being the ever preceptive, but untrained physician, quietly commented that she thought I had a hemorrhoid. A hemorrhoid, I said. I thought thats what old people get, or at least my parents. Young and strapping lads like me, we dont get those. My wife pulled out the prescription-strength hemorrhoid cream shed used during Thing 2s pregnancy.
HOLY SH**! I thought. You suffered with one of these for 9 months. YOURE A GOD OF PAIN! We retired to bed. Me miserable, my wife surely gloating in the satisfaction of sweet revenge. (Note: sweet revenge is best served on others, not on yourself.)
On Thursday, I attended to my work duties, with the tube of cream in hand, followed with a diligent regimen of 800 mg of pain meds. I didnt think the ain could get worse, but let me assure you that when you get a hemi in your arse, it probably packs as much pain power on day 2 as the hemi-charged Dodge vehicles.
On Friday, I cried. I finally had to poop, and the pain I thought couldnt get worse, finally did. I nearly threw up. I dont know why we dont use torturous activities like these to make people talk. Ive decided that wouldnt make a good secret agent after this experience. Id have to take the suicide pill, because I couldnt keep silent through hours, days, or months of torture. Everyone talks, and Id sing like a canary. Sorry CIA recruiter, I cant join.
After my near-death experience, I felt fine. Like a new man. The worst was over. In fact, I was more productive at work than Id been in 3 days.
I came home, walked in the door, and before giving me a kiss, my wife asked, whats all over your butt. I dropped trow, to find a brownish-red spot soaked through on my pants. In the bathroom I discovered that my underwear contained a significantly larger bloody mess.
HOLY SH**! I said. You women go through this kind of craziness once-per-month! I feared Id either die from blood loss, or need to constantly change a maxi pad to contain the mess. Theres nothing like blood coming from the nether-regions to make you feel less manly too. On the brightside, the pain was nearly all gone.
The relief didnt last long. Saturday surprised me with anal pain and bleeding. So much that I made a quick decision to visit the insta-care for treatment. Yes, unfortunately the solve-all internet could not send me enough information to provide advice except if you count the get to a doctor, thats serious.
At the insta-care, the doctor confirmed the existence of a thrombosed hemorrhoid (Google it, not cool). Not just 1, but 3. Apparently, the hemorrhoid had filled with blood clots, which caused the pain (more than normal), and bleeding. Until the clots got removed, Id continue to have pain and bleeding.
The process for removing the clots is called a thrombectomy. Basically, it involves grabbing the hemorrhoid, tearing it out of the anal cavity, and squeezing it like a zit until it gooshes (the medical term) out. CLINCH YOUR BUTT CHEEKS BECAUSE ITS A PAINFUL AS IT SOUNDS. (Dont drool you zit-picking lovers, it isnt nearly as fun for the recipient, although youd probably enjoy it immensely.) Remember too, the only way to access, or get good access to, the affected area is by having the patient squat partially naked on all fours like a dog. (Now wipe that picture of me out of your mind.)
The doctor used a local anesthetic (yep, inserted again into the anus - CLINCH EVEN TIGHTER) to try and numb the area for the upcoming pain. Then, when I still felt pain, the doctor followed the local with a freezing spray, which didnt work. Then the doctor ordered the heavy meds, and informed me Id need to get a ride home. The IV meds didnt work either, so I just gritted my teeth, sweating heavily, and tried not to pass out.
Note to the CIA: I think I could bear a little bit of torture, but if I could have stopped it by spilling my guts, its done.
As if to comfort me a bit more, the doctor did say that it was the biggest (apparently theyre quite common) thrombosed hemorrhoid shed ever seen. Apparently, it was the size of your two thumbs put together (if you have big thumbs, then it was huge. If you have small thumbs, add 1 or 2 more, just to make the story better). Oh yeah, did I mention that I displayed all my glory in front of another woman, and didnt care? Now I understand why women giving birth give up all dignity to get the job done.
Following the procedure, I felt immediate relief. The best Id felt in 4 days. I went home, slept a while to wear off the narcotics, then relaxed for the remainder of the evening. There was a slight pain that night (she might not have got everything), but in the morning, everything was perfect, except for the remainder of the bleeding. WHAT A RELIEF! Certainly the best $500 Ive ever spent!
Theres really no pain Ive ever felt that amounted to this experience. I learned a few lessons:
1. NEVER GET HEMORRHOIDS!
2. If you do, get a powerful pain medication, and find someone to cater to you as you lay on the couch.
3. If you bleed, go to the doctor. Grit your teeth, get the thrombectomy done. 150% relief.
4. If youre grossed out by this, you probably shouldnt have read it. Go back to the top & read the disclaimer.
Now, arent you glad youll be eating a big dinner of delicious turkey, stuffing, and trimmings?
