eldavo69

Anus Horribilis

74 posts in this topic

I make no apologies for the content of this post if it veers slightly to the graphic, don't read whilst eating!

3 weeks ago I made spicy chicken fajitas for dinner with loads of onion and all the sides. That night I woke up at about 5am with horrendous stomach cramps went to the loo and released a school of brown trout into the wild, ably assisted on their way by wind propulsion. For the next 24 hours I was a bit loose but "just something I've eaten".

4 days later and I'm packing for a 10 day holiday the next day thinking it'll clear up in a day or two. It doesn't, if anything it gets worse. I have an arse like the Japanese flag from wiping and there's spots of blood on the paper. Oh well, must be acclimatising to the food and just a bit of blood from too much wiping.

Fast forward a few days, stomach cramps during the night and stomach going mental every time I eat, start a course of antibiotics and take lots of loperamide. Not much in the way of stools coming out of me, but plenty of bright red blood pebble dashing the toilet. Other things I learnt whilst away - 1: always check the toilet has loo roll in before you sit down. 2: When unwell never trust a fart, luckily I was in the shower at the time; MrsEldavo walked into the bathroom to find me on hands and knees cleaning out the plug hole whilst sobbing uncontrollably - new low found.

I'd had something similar a few years back and ended up having a flexible sigmoidoscopy at the hospital which found nothing and things resolved so I kept telling myself things would be fine. MrsEldavo was not so convinced and decreed I needed to see my GP as soon as we got back as she was worried. Very sage advice from a medical professional who had observed my condition get worse so of course I completely ignored her and went back to work as normal.

3 days later and it's 7:30am, I'm like a zombie having been up no less than 8 times during the night - thank god we have a spare room with an en-suite on a differet floor or MrsEldavo might have put me out of my misery. I called in sick to work and told MrsEldavo to get me booked in with a private consultant ASAP.

I saw him last night. Took a full history, chatted over things told me he'd need to do some investigations next week and would take some bloods - hurrah I've swerved the DRE this'll be fine. Could I just lie down on the bed whilst he gets the nurse.

She turns up with a trolley that doesn't seem to have anything on it that a phlebotomist might usually have and instead gets out the gloves and lube. Oh well, I figured things would be going this way so fine. Next she takes out some type of bulb syphon and what looks like a cross between a speculum and a light stick. Hmmm, probably just in case I tell myself, I don't think he'll be needing that.

2 mins later I'm on my side being fingered by a bloke I've only just met who hadn't even bought me a drink yet whilst the nurse holds a towel over my arse. He then says something I don't fully catch but I hear the words "telescope" and "back passage" and the nurse has started to pat my shoulder. What happened next was not pleasant, especially when he told me he was going to inflate my bowel with some air whilst he goes all Time Team on my exit chute. The pain in my stomach was awful, I had to clench my poor ring piece like crazy otherwise he wouldn't have needed a telescope for a close view of what was going on. The nurse is patting and rubbing my shoulder like I'm about 5, it was quite nice actually.

And then he's done and off to clean up and make notes whilst the nurse puts things away. I've got my pants round my knees and am sat on the bed at 45 degrees trying simultaneously not to splodge my lubey arse on the bed whilst covering my cock and balls with a towel. Mercifully the nurse hands me some tissues and leaves the room. If she'd returned she'd have caught me contorted at an angle wiping well-lubricated blood from my defenceless ring piece. As I chuck the tissues in the clinical waste bag I can see the "telescope" in there too. It's about a foot long and fully illuminated with white LEDs whilst covered in blood like some battle-weary lightsabre.

The woman that took my bloods afterwards could've kicked me in the shins and I still wouldn't have noticed after my doughnut punching previously.

The good news is that he doesn't think it's sinister but that said has booked me a CT scan to make sure. I'm also back on Monday for another flexible sigmoidoscopy and some biopsies - I've elected for mild sedation this time!!! I've got to see my GP first thing Monday for a formal referral to be done and to convert £300s worth of private prescriptions into 2 NHS prescriptions.

As blokes we always assume things will sort themselves out and we make excuses. When you do seek help though, it all very matter of fact and gets dealt with quickly. I'll update the outcome when I find out more and things will hopefully be resolved soon enough. And if not . . . I'll end up totally winning the LTTRWYU thread ;)

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OMG, so sorry to hear that. Fingers crossed for you.

But, if I may say so, very well written :roflmao:

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As above, just read this to Mrs M and we're both sympathetic but laughing at the descriptions. Cleaning out the plughole :roflmao:

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Im in the park, at the 'proms', all picnics and Prosecco reading this in polite company trying hard not to piss myself laughing. :roflmao: Had similar a couple if years ago, the nurse that did the fingering was built like a Samoan wrestler with hands like baseball mitts. As Mickey Flanagan put it "he stuck his finger up, or it could have been a ****ing pedal bin for all i knew" :roflmao:

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Amusing but I hope things are ok mate.

Had a similar bath plughole incident myself when first starting out with the Mrs. Would have been a deal breaker I suspect!

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Great read and I'm sure we are all glad you didn't leave it too long before you went and got things looked at muppet. 

 

Let us know how things go and I hope things are find down there Mr Pugwash. +++

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Eldavo, you cretin.  I have to say, and I do mean this, I admire your approach to life and I can see this is, and hopefully will be, no different.

 

It goes without saying I hope it proves less than sinister, and I look forward to more graphic accounts of the procedures to come that will prove it so.

 

Jim Jefferies would be proud. (Although to be fair, his more graphic tales are usually self inflicted...)

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This Thread Is Useless Without... err... actually no it's fine. As you were.

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Legs crossed it's all good news  +++

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Keep us updated. Well done for posting up.

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Fingers crossed, I have has a sigmoidoscopy too & know what it is like, not fun.

 

Hopefully a bit of discomfort & all will be sorted.

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As mentioned above, top work for posting and hope all is well - better get checked than worry in silence. I had some tests around Christmas that involved an ultrasound on my nuts, worrying at the time but can laugh about it now - especially the bit when the quite attractive twenty-something South African trainee sonographer started rubbing the gel into my family jewels - I didn't even had to pay! +++

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Thanks for the support everyone.

I made a crucial error today in that I engaged MrsEldavo in conversation. I'd previously told her not to talk to me about my current issues and depending how this went I was hoping to roll it out into other topics. And by other I obviously mean all.

I'd told her that there was no point worrying about what might be wrong and I'd rather wait and see what the problem actually was and then deal with it then. After taking leave of my senses I asked her what the best and worse case scenarios where.

Apparently, given my symptoms, the worst case scenario is Crohn's Disease and the best case scenario is some localised inflammation that'll be treated with the medicine I'm on.

I googled Crohn's disease, worryingly my symptoms seemed a perfect match so I looked up the other end of the spectrum and my symptoms also seemed a perfect match. Now I understand why Drs only practice medicine rather than profess to be experts in it.

Normal service has resumed though in that whatever it is can be dealt with one way or another and fretting will get me nowhere. Mind over matter is already paying dividends this evening and also reducing our water bill.

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Crohn's is not fun; it was one of the possibilities when Mrs P was unwell, she regarded he diagnosis of Coeliac disease as the soft option of the three possible diagnoses that were mentioned.  If anyone suggests a gluten free diet for you then let me know and I'll put you in touch with her, she has been through the mill learning the hard way and has it down to a fine art now. 

 

You have exactly the right attitude, though +++

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I'd be interested in a few things, P. Would she mind??

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I'm sure she wouldn't.  Can you PM me an email or a phone number?

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I had my "investigation" last night and had a call from the bookings team that I shouldn't eat after 12:00 or drink after 15:00 ahead of my appointment at 5pm.

Possibly overthinking things and getting confused between "death row prisoner" and "private hospital outpatient" I went to the butchers and bought a big fillet steak for lunch - no anaemia for me!

At 5pm I was dropped off at the hospital, checked in and collected by a nurse. We then spent 10 minutes wandering backwards and forwards as my intended room hadn't been cleaned (since the last patient died in it thought I?). Eventually we went to another floor and I was checked into my room which in itself was better appointed than any hotel TDK had ever recommended for a jaunt. TDK could have probably found use for the suction and oxygen lines coming out of the walls too.

I had to fill in some forms and get changed into a backless gown in my bathroom/wet room. When I came out of there the nurse was stood at the end of the bed with a trolley full of stuff. "I'm going to give you an enema now" she said. Erm, hang on, that was a bit blurted out is the art of romance dead?

2 minutes later I'm on my side with my knees hoiked up and my hairy arse sticking out. Nursey then gloves up and prepares the enema, given her vantage angle I've started singing "Waterboys - Whole of the Moon" in my head. As she manoeuvres into position, I have the sudden realisation that I've got a bollock clamped between my legs. No time to dwell on that though as she sticks a lubricated tube into my arse and squeezes a load of cold fluid into me. This is a very awkward moment and the silence is deafening. The part of my brain that really should know better kicks in and I (god knows why) decide to say "that's the difference going private, when I had this done on the NHS I had to do my own enema".

"It's all part of the service" came the witty retort, for added effect she punctuated the sentence by removing the enema tube with a flourish and a lubey-sounding plop noise. I was then told to stay like that for 5-10 minutes until I couldn't hold on any more and then go the toilet and off she went.

I'm still lying curled up with my back to the door and my arse exposed (stray bollock has been recovered thankfully) when there's a short knock and another woman walks in. By this point I'm getting quite uncomfortable so am keen to be left alone soon. Turns out that this woman is here to see what I want to eat after my procedure and has a sandwich menu with her. Realising that by the time I'm done I'll be rather hungry I try and divert attention from the gurgling in my gut and to the sandwich menu. Unfortunately, there are about 15 different combinations on it and 3 types of bread. I finally settle on a chicken mayo salad on brown and a pot of tea and the woman starts to disappear.

Starts but doesn't.

As she gets back round the other side of the bed my consultant walks in, they exchange pleasantries and as I'm his last patient on his list she asks if he'd like a sandwich when he's finished. The pair of them stand next to my angry sphincter whilst he too seems baffled by the sheer choice. The detail-focused amongst you will be disheartened to learn that I didn't quite catch what he ordered. He then gets me to sign my life away, explains a few things that I'm really paying no attention to before acknowledging that I could probably do with going to the loo now. The second he is past the foot of the bed to leave (which given how I'm feeling is the equivalent of walking onto a live firing range) I'm in the bathroom and on the pot.

TBC

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Having done everything you've written above, I know the outcome....unfortunately !

Edited by M8CKN

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Once again, I'm full of sympathy for you Dave, but also giggling a bit.  Superb writing. 

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Thanks for sharing your experiences which must be worrying, in such a humorous way for us. Hope all goes well.

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Thanks for sharing your experiences which must be worrying, in such a humorous way for us. Hope all goes well.

Thanks, it's quite cathartic and also gives me something to do whilst I'm sat on the loo.

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Oh Dave, I'm glad you are able to keep us all amused at the same time this is all going on.   Fingers crossed you get "good" results and it turns out to not be anything too serious.   

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Thanks, but I'll add in something I missed - memory sparked by P's and your posts.

The nurse checked my name and date of birth before asking whether I'd prefer to be called Dave or David, I told her that David was my preference.

She then said; "Ok then Dave, if I can ask you to fill this form in"

D'oh

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