Lifestyles: Men Have Problems Too
Stuart has a pain in the...
off-brand Froot Loops (Fruity-Os) are okay, but buying an
off-brand hemorrhoid medication is not.
Its 3:45 a.m. as I write this. Im drunk, and I have
a hemorrhoid. This might seem like some sort of strange artistic opening
to an autobiographical story about something other than my hemorrhoid,
but unfortunately for you dear reader it is not. This is a story about
my ass and the god forsaken burst blood vessel inside of it.
I shouldnt have opened like this, but Its late and I feel
no need to edit what I write at this point. My ass hurts. Ive
found that hemorrhoids are useful in that sense.
"I cant lift that
my ass hurts",
"I would love to help you move this weekend, but my ass hurts."
"I truly would drive you home tonight, but I have a hemorrhoid."
"Sex would be great right now honey, but you see, I have a swollen
painful purple thing inside my asshole that feels like Satans
pitchfork when I show any sign of exertion."
I woke up today at about twelve p.m. I had a late night so I shouldnt
have awakened until about 1:30, but I felt a peculiar stress in my ass.
I knew immediately what it was but paid no attention. I have had this
little bastard since I was eighteen, but it was just an embarrassing
characteristic of my anus that I ignored because
A) It didnt hurt.
B) I assumed it was part of growing up. Just like puberty and genital
Everyone in my immediate family has had (or currently has) hemorrhoids.
The women have them mostly from pregnancy, although my aunt has never
had a child and sites hemorrhoids as part of her disparity. At any rate
I was raised listening to most of them bitch about their asses during
my childhood. My father, for instance, had a particularly nasty bunch
removed surgically and was basically crippled during the healing process.
My most vivid memory of this is when he was sitting down on a chair
in my Grandparents living room and my grandfather was calling him to
the kitchen for some trivial task. My mother became angry and said out
loud Doesnt he understand he has hemorrhoids?"
But hey, theyre old, right? Ass pains dont occur till your
much older and even when they do, you accept it because youre
old. Wrong. Im 21, almost 22 and today I woke up with a giant
I had had pain in that region for a fair amount of time but it usually
passed quickly and without any need for medication. Today was different.
I noticed that as I started to walk around my house it was persistent
and nagging. I let my fingers crawl down to my unmentionable regions
and found that through some miracle of evolution my once benign and
comical ass plum had turned into an industrial strength hemorrhoid.
I was alarmed by this but even more alarmed by the fact that my bowels
were crying out for a movement. I made my way to the restroom and sat
down. Per usual, I applied strength to my stomach muscles urging my
refuse to find its way out of my body. Thats about the time
when I realized that if I applied any further pressure the swollen demon
attached to my rectum would burst with all the might of a blood-filled
atom bomb. Like a frightened soldier I retreated and reconsidered my
next move in the war of fecal evacuation. Everything went silent and
for a moment the hypochondriac in me pleaded with me to tie my robe
and plan my next move more carefully.
But nature took its course. As luck would have it, the previous nights
dietary intake consisted of a 40 ounce bottle of Bud Light and a bag
of Flamin Hot Bakenettes (Pork rinds) so my excrement
slid out very quickly and with a bust like effect. I did write that
these were Flamin hot correct? Yes, well, Im
sad to report that because of this I suddenly had the sensation of Grade-A
napalm carving its cheerful path on my afflicted ass.
After that unfortunate incident I decided it was time for a shower.
This proved to be good for my butt. My fingers again found their way
to my crowded cave of pain and discovered that the actual hemorrhoid
began on the outside of my ass but continued onward into my ass like
any good soldier would.
I refused to believe I had a hemorrhoid at such a young age. I decided
to ignore it like my other ailments (bad hearing, a mysterious pain
in my abdomen, and a gleefully awful case of alcoholism). As the day
progressed, however I found that this coping ability that I thought
so useful was not to be available.
My ass hurt. I sat down, and it hurt. I got up and it hurt. Mediocre
tasks such as getting a drink of water became laborious and painful.
I decided that one way or the other my can was telling me it needed
I called my girlfriend Trinity and told I would be picking her up shortly.
When I arrived I found her sitting on a washing machine sucking down
Newcastles and cigarettes
at first I was irritated. After
all, I had a burst blood vessel in my ass, and I needed her to understand
this and take care of me. But after a few moments of consideration I
realized that her condition was ideal for my plight. In her state of
mind I could explain to her my problem with little embarrassment and
I was incorrect. Her laughter permeated my ears akin to music, only
it was the kind of music that you hate and wish you had never heard.
She told me that I needed ass-cream and that I should get
this immediately. There was a problem however. See, I am recently unemployed,
thus, no money for ass-cream. My two options were to either allow her
to pay for my ass-cream or to tell my parents that I needed ass-cream.
Both of these things were a violation to my strict sense of pride.
I decided on letting my parents in on the fact that I had a hemorrhoid.
After all, it runs in the family, right? Now Im one of you, right?
"Have you been constipated? Whats someone youre age
doing with a hemorrhoid?"
My mother had a way with words.
After the initial humiliation had subsided I found myself thankful that
my parents were willing to buy my butthole panacea. In Wal-Mart
my mother handed me two products; a simple cream to cure "itching"
and "general irritation" or a suppository. She alluded to
the fact that I should choose what is best
an internal or external
medication, therefore allowing me some sort of shred of dignity. Her
kind attempt at allocating me privacy failed as I handed her the two
packages and suggested we purchase both. This, from the look on her
face, was not an option. I opted for the cream, it seemed all-purpose
and was all that I was aware existed. I was bound to its familiarity.
May I note that both products were off-brand. In my maturity I recognize
that buying off-brand peas are okay. Buying off-brand Froot Loops (Fruity-Os)
are okay, but buying an off-brand hemorrhoid medication is not. You
will be sticking this product up your ass, I would at least like to
see Johnson & Johnson on the tube. In her defense I
will say that if I was shelling out the cash for someone elses
butthole medicine I too would only spring for the Wal-Mart brand.
Upon returning home I found myself standing alone in my bathroom (Alone
despite Trinitys pleading to "Let her watch".) I held
in my hand the off-brand tube of medicine and a unique contraption that
screws onto the tube. To my horror I realized that this component of
the ass-cream was meant to go up my ass and evenly dispense the goo.
It acts very much like a Play-Doh device that squirts small tubes of
a doughy substance in all directions.
I decided not to think about it, and plunged it into my ass, expecting
a disturbing homoerotic experience; I was surprised to find that it
made virtually no pain (or pleasure) at all. I squeezed until I was
sure that it had done it duty and then retrieved it from out of my nether
Nothing. But the strange device told me that indeed, goo had been dispensed
and I was suddenly faced with the uncomfortable task of cleaning up.
Let me ask you, the reader, a question; When you were a child and playing
with Play-Doh, how did you clean the little squishing device after a
day of fun? With your fingers right? Well, this thing is too small to
put your fingers into. I tried running hot water over the nozzle. Nothing.
The only reasonable remedy for this problem seemed to be blowing through
the top of the nozzle which for some strange reason I briefly considered
even though this had just moments ago been up my ass.
I washed the nozzle put the cap back on without making an attempted
to clean it. Who cares? Its not like you share your ass medicine
with a friend.
"Hemorrhoids, Bobby? Thats too bad
here try my half
used tube of Wal-Mart brand ass-cream. Enjoy."
I was starting to feel better. The cream did indeed work
five minutes. Soon I was in pain again and realized that unless I wanted
to spend the next few days with a tube of ass-cream up my butt I needed
So I consulted my good friend the Internet.
I discovered that I needed to spend time laying down (not sitting) and
avoid standing up. This was good news as I generally avoid standing
up whether or not I have throbbing ass-larvae sucking away at my soul.
Trinity and me enjoyed a mediocre Saturday night (Saturday is Our
day and we tend to stay away from our busy social schedule, attending
to Television and rented films.)
So now Its 4:30 a.m. and here I am. Still a little drunk and nursing
a pain in the ass. How did I get here...why has god forsaken me? Well
after dropping Trinity off at home I decided to consult alcohol for
this malady (I consult it for many others and find it usually works,
no matter how badly it affects the valuable emotional relationships
I have with loved ones.)
I pulled up at the 7-11 around 1:45 and decided to stay in my truck
seeing that I spied a high school aquaitance inside and didnt
want to hobble around like Igor infront of her. I finally made my purchase
and got home to begin drinking when I noticed my pet mouse had perished.
In my sorrow I drank 40 ounces of beer and then began working on a coffin
for Bob (My mouse).
I constructed the coffin out of a box of Little Debbie treats, after
doing that I went to my bible to find a good verse on the subject of
death to inscribe on Bobs coffin. As I opened the bible I found that
there was as section to write in a marriage. I wrote down the marriage
of some dear friends that had gotten married recently on September 14th
2001, three days after the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks.
After that I saw there was a section for deaths. I wrote down the name
of a friend that had died on September 26th 2001. I realized at this
moment that life has a lot of pain in it, and as far as Im concerned
we dont need hemorrhoids. Car accidents? Hey, they happen. Murder?
Thats been going on since the dawn of time. Cancer? That gets
most of us. But why hemorrhoids?
Its just something that should not be a part of the life we live.
So now here I am. Placing my dead mouse in a coffin made of cardboard,
tossing an empty bottle of beer in the trash and doing my best not to
move to much. Im starting to realize that all that golden rule
nonsense they indoctrinate you with as a child makes some sense. Do
what you can to make life good for yourself and others, because most
likely, a hemorrhoid is something youre gonna get one way or the
other and its just going to piss you off if your life sucks when
you get it.
© Andrew Stuart September 2003
(Surgery is the ONLY thing that works, believe me, been there, bled
over the T-Shirt: Ed)
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