You Just Think YOUR Ass Hurts!

So, Mr. Pansy finally went to the doctor to get his ass checked out. Apparently ME checking it out was not enough affirmation for him. Turns out he had all the kinds of hemorrhoids that are possible to have. And they had bad attitudes, too. Surgery is scheduled. "But, first, let's just take these 3 out with rubber bands." Rubber bands are installed in the doctor's office. Well, they were installed in Mr. Pansy's ass while his ass was in the doctor's office. WHO invented that horrific "treatment" is what I still want an answer for. Somehow, Mr. Pansy skittered sideways out of the office and drove himself home. Where he proceeded to whine and feel sorry for himself for at least 48 hours. And bleed from the ass and generally feel like he has been kicked by a cruel donkey in very tender places. Well, at least we know he'll be unconscious for the REAL surgery so we go ahead with THAT plan. The surgery took longer than planned, Mr. Pansy is all ruined afterwards and not allowed to leave until he can pee under his own power. Somehow, closing in on the time limit (I think 7 hours), he manages to pass the pee test and I get to take him home. He is completely bombed on drugs, I get the prescriptions filled and find it curious that there is 1 for pain and 1 for Valium. Why would anyone need Valium for post-surgery?

I inspect Mr. Pansy's ass and learn for the first time in my life that when doctors have you unconscious they are not even remotely polite or gentle with you. Mr. Pansy seriously had the biggest, blackest bruise I have ever seen anywhere. It looked like the doctors had taken a.....no, make that TWO Louisville sluggers and rammed them into Mr. Pansy's tiny "outlet" which all sane people know should never be an "inlet". OMG. I still have nightmares recalling that bruise.

So, Mr. Pansy is on cruise control (drugs) and feeling just fine but tired. We accidentally fall asleep and miss the first round of pain/valium pills. I wake up to see Mr. Pansy completely short-circuiting. Faster than I can type or say these words he was: lying on his stomach on the bed, rolling to his side on the bed, hanging his head off the bed, back up on the bed on his other side, rolling to his back on the bed, hanging his legs off the bed, getting off the bed and on his knees with his torso on the bed, crumpled on the floor in a fetal position, back to half on/half off the bed and doing this over and over and over. And pretty much incoherent and unable to communicate. Completely and utterly like a short-circuited robot in extreme pain. I shove the pain pill and the Valium down him and we sweat out the next 20 minutes before they finally kick in. Then we fell asleep again and overslept the next Valium update. Same freakish short-circuiting behavior. Lesson Learned: you can skip the pain pill but do not EVER skip the Valium. I set alarm clocks everywhere and wore my triathlon watch after that.

So, now we are into Day After Surgery and Mr. Pansy, being carefully kept on schedule with his pills, is feeling no pain. Day Two After Surgery....same happy happy. Day Three After Surgery Mr. Pansy finally has to poop. He is still drugged out of his head but somewhat communicative and I find him on the toilet pretty much distraught. He can't make himself push and yet he has the great urge to push. I play midwife and we do Lamaze breathing and ice chips and everything. No pushing. I call the doctor and they say "Oh, yeh. He's gonna have a terrible time but he has to go. If he can't, bring him down here and we'll give him an enema. You can do the enema if you want and save the trouble of coming down here." Well, it would have been fucking NICE to know 3 days earlier so that we could have made an enema purchase. I have to leave Mr. Pansy to go to the pharmacy and he is in bed and so weepy you would not believe. I hold his face between my hands and am 2 inches from his face and telling him "I will go to the store. I will come back." He is all broken down with "don't leave me...don't leave me." I point to the clock and say "when the clock says 2:10 I will be back home. Don't worry." And then I just have to leave him......like leaving a toddler at preschool. I gave him one of my fuzzy sweaters to hold onto and smell while I was gone. I am not kidding. I get back and now I have to coax him to get out of bed. He can hardly believe I actually did go to the store because in his head I had just left the room. He was pretty freaked out. I double check that I have not botched his Valium pills.

He still can't poop on his own and we realize he certainly can't give himself his own Fleet enema. I soothe him and work my way back there but just even coming within an inch of the outer edges of his bruise made him howl and shy away like a wounded animal. I am getting all sweaty now and so is he and I finally pull out my command voice and tell him: "Mr. Pansy! I am going to put your head into the corner of the bathroom so you can't get away from me and then I am going to give you the enema and I know it is going to hurt. But you know I have to do this. If you can't let me do it I have to take you to the hospital and they are not going to be nice to you about giving you an enema. Now let's do this." And I do mean my command voice. hahahahahhaha! Oh, it was awful! The howls of the enema insertion are still audible in the darkest hours of the night in the Haunted Pansy House. And the excretion howls were just about as awful. I made him special treats and petted him and only left him for a few minutes every once in awhile. He was easily panicked for about 5 days. I did figure out that if I just knelt by the bed where he could see me that I could sneak away when he fell asleep since any movement on the bed would awaken him instantly and in a panic.

I truly do not know what happens to a person who has hemorrhoid surgery and Mr. Pansy is no wuss but Good God I have never seen such a mental breakdown. I think it is that certain areas of the body have way too many nerves involved and the level of pain must be quite beyond human capacity. Seriously. At any rate, after Enema #1 all future bathroom events went quite uneventfully. This all happened back around 1990? To this day Mr. Pansy has truly absolutely no memory of the 14 days after surgery.

I think all men should have hemorrhoid surgery if only to amuse the hell out of their wives with the level of Zero Ego that the man hits. And the doctors should prescribe enough Valium for Everyone in the house. Truly, Mr. Pansy would have died if he had not had Full Time German Nurse Pansy on duty. He was a zombie. He really owes me on this one.