Everyday Stranger

What Are You Hiding Up There?

Ilyka made me remember a fun-filled doctor’s visit I had in Sweden, what with her sweet-talk of colonoscopies. In truth, I have had two such monsters in my life, due to my IBS fun, and in Sweden about two years ago the IBS was getting unmanageable again, so it was off to the doctor’s office again.

After getting an appointment in about two months time, I finally got a chance to see a specialist, a severe Polish woman who could speak only Polish or a dicey Swedish. Now, when it comes to your anus, you really want to make sure that both parties understand, so to say that I was nervous was an understatement. We did a lot of hand gestures and bastardized Swedish accounts, the Polish doctor getting more and more angry with me and having all the bedside manner of a euthanasiast with a charm school degree, and then she hauled in a younger nurse who I discussed with.

The specialist nodded, looked even more severe, and left the room.

She came back with a paper gown.

I knew I was in trouble then.

I was led in to an examination room, all bright fluoroscope lights and real bedding on the bed. There were several more nurses there, all looking at me sympathetically. I didn’t really understand what was going on-I was only severely constipated, it’s not like I needed an organ transplant or anything. I turned to the younger nurse to try to ascertain why the hell I was there.

The truth came out-I would be having a scope of the lower half of my bowels.

Right then and there.

I changed into my paper napkin shift, tying it in the front. I emerged and was frog-marched right back into the changing room by Polish Extremo, who made sure that the ties were in the back and my ass was to the wind. More nurses and doctors came in, making me wonder if they would be examining the lower intestines for IBS problems or just digging for gold.

I got up on the table, sitting down, my legs crossed and my hands making nervous knots of the paper towel I was wearing. I thought I would be ok. Polish Extremo was scary, but likely competent. I could handle it.

And then…he walked in.

Sven, the perfect golden Swedish Adonis, a shining example of a perfect male specimen. Gold hair, blue eyes, and oh-my-God-he-had-a-dimple. Perfect body and strong, sinewy arms poking out of his hospital scrubs. My God, I wanted this man to examine me and my family tree, I wanted to rip his clothes off and show him a little Yankee loving right then and there on the table.

Polish Extremo turned to me. “Sven is an intern.” She blurbed. “He will be observing.”

Oh great. Like this whole situation wasn’t bad enough, Adonis gets to watch them probe my ass. Really, had I known it were such a party, I would’ve brought dip.

Polish Extremo approaches me holding what could easily pass for an 8 foot Boa Constictor, and all of it nicely encased in plastic. You know. To protect it from my gooey bits.

She smiles. “It is time.” I nod and lay down on my stomach.

“Oh no.” She says, smiling nastily. She then contorts my body so that it is half-laying, half-kneeling, with one hitched up like I am in one of those touchy-feely woman classes, the kind where they will be giving me a mirror and telling me: So this is your clitoris, your flower of love. Isn’t it beautiful?

I look up at the end on the table and see Adonis watching all of this, a small smile on his lips. God? I think. I swear if you help me get out of this with dignity, I will start attending church regularly. Ok, well, that’d be lying. But I will attend at least once a year then.

The probe comes close and the nurses gather round my ass. The doctors head for a TV screen for the 2D version. The probe goes in, and I cry like a baby, the pain was so agonizing it was unbelievable. Polish Extremo turns to the nurses.

“We need more lubrication, she is really tight.” She instructs, as they bring over a king-size tub of KY.

I feel my face burn as hot as my butt as Adonis keeps smiling. Oh man. Now he knows I have a tight ass. Oh man.

The probe goes further and the sense of discomfort is unbearable. It is like one big cramp squeezing your middle, the white hot pain of your anus just gives up and says: I’ve got nothing. The bowels are in way more pain now. The nurse near me tries to talk soothingly, but I just want to move her so that Adonis cannot see me. Surely no man who can look into my anus will want to talk sweet nothings in bed to me, it just isn’t done.

Polish Extremo guides the python up my ass and looks at the TV screen. “Oh yeah.” She says. “Lots of mucus.”

God, I think, if you will just shut her up I will be ok. Just make Polish Extremo stop talking. Really. I will even give up cheese for you, God, just help me out here.

The test finishes as I am doubled up in agony. I stop caring about anyone or anything, I only want it to end. The nurses talk soothingly, the doctors stare at the TV screen, Adonis goes from looking at the cable feeding into my nether regions and the TV. Polish Extremo declares she has seen all she needs to, and removes the cable. I feel instant hope that I can survive this, hope that maybe Adonis didn’t see the worst bits.

She withdraws the hundreds of miles of cable that have been snaked into my swirly bits, and I think I am home free. And just as the last bit is removed, I release an enormous fart, a horrible heinous sound made even worse from the gallons of KY that have been put on the cable.

Polish Extremo nods. “This is normal.” My head drops to the table.

God? I think. Look buddy, could you just kill me now? Seriously, I really just want you to strike me down. Honest. Oh, and you can take out Extremo on my way out, if you feel like it.

In the end, I was put on medication and had an enormous maxi pad in my panties for the copious blood and KY that I oozed throughout the day.

I never saw Adonis again.

I really think that’s for the best.

Probably wouldn't have worked out, anyway.

-H.

Posted by Everydaystranger at July 1, 2004 06:47 AM | TrackBack