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Non-Fiction
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| Double Penetration | |
| By Emmuttmax | ||||||||||||||||||||
| 13 September 2008 | ||||||||||||||||||||
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Double Penetration
Several weeks ago, my lovely primary care physician, Dr. K, encouraged me to have a camera shoved up my ass. “I don’t think the Kodak digital I have at home will fit,” I told her. She laughed, but insisted all the men in my age group were doing it, and I should also have the experience. In addition—because I am one of her favorite patients—she said she would see to it that I had a camera snaked down my throat into my stomach. How could I resist this double intrusion? I agreed provided the same camera that photographed my…uh…rectal area was not used inserted into my mouth and I would be given primo drugs that would me unconscious during the violation. Yesterday, while Mrs. Em was in Dallas with her sister, my nephew delivered my lily-white ass and sparkling clean colon to the surgery center. About an hour after arriving, I was wheeled into a small room filled with assorted medical equipment, computer screens, and a CD player that was playing low-key Bollywood music. The doctor entered--a fortyish woman named Dr. D—greeted me, stuck a plastic mouthpiece in my face, and then she was ready to proceed with the photographic documenting of my innards. Earl, the anesthesiologist, slammed some drubs into my I.V., and within a few minutes I was in Morpheus’ arms. When I awoke, I was in a curtained-off holding area, and my nephew was sitting beside me. I felt surprisingly good and a little stoned. After changing back into my clothes, Dr. D. came in carrying a few sheets of paper, some of which featured stills of my inner passageways. She handed me the photos and said, “We found some stuff.” “We found some stuff” is not a sentence you want to hear your doctor say. We looked at the pictures together--which, by the way, all looked to me like shots of sea anemones—and she explained what the “stuff” was. “Here,” said pointed to an anemone with pimple, “is a nodule in your stomach. We took a biopsy of it. “This,” she nodded at the second picture, “is your esophagus; nothing wrong there.” I must say I have a pretty cute esophagus. The next picture sort of looked like a scallop with a fang coming out of the middle. “That’s an ulcer in your stomach,” said Dr. D. The final photo on that page appeared to be a large, red egg. It wasn’t. “That is duodenitis, and that’s not very good,” was the doctor’s comment. She turned to the next page, which featured more sea anemones only these resided in my colon. “Diverticulosis and polyps,” said Dr. D., pointing out the maladies in several shots. “Did you find any loose change?” I asked. “What?” she replied? “Never Mind. Ok, so what happens now?” “Well, I took several biopsies, and we have to wait until the results come back to see where we are. In the meantime, here’s a prescription for Nexium, and I want you to eat a lot of fiber.” My nephew drove me home, and I ate a tree limb.
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