A day at the General

If a doctor describes something is mild, they mean medium, and if a doctor describes something as medium, they really mean it’s something that’s going to give a little bit of a slap, so when I downed a pint of so called ‘strong’ laxatives I think that perhaps I should have taken precautions of setting up camp within a 1 meter radius of the toilet.

Admittedly having almost shit myself after my dosage I almost shat myself once more after reading that I was to undertake a home enema, an enema, by definition is ‘ a procedure of introducing liquids into the rectum and colon via the anus’, now back to reality, it really means squirting water up your backside and washing all the shit out then sat on the loo squeezing the liquid parp out on your not only brown, but now sore ring hole.

Fine, I thought flicking through my booklet of mild’s and moderates I can do this, I researched ‘home enemas’, via Google of course, I stepped back from the screen and almost squeezed another out, that’s a nurses job.
I found myself sitting in a hospital waiting room awaiting a visit from a the consultant, instead I was greeted by a frail, elderly nurse who looks like she retired 20 odd years ago, I removed my clothing and put on my snazzy, oversized robes and was led into what looked like an operating theater, I remember thinking to myself, there are an awful lot of nurses here whom are going to be peering into my hairy hoop.
I lay on the table, thanking fuck I managed to escape an enema, the doc lubed up his already greasy looking hands and attempted to insert a number (of what felt like all 5) up my arse, nope too dry, he apologized and dunked his mits into the tub of lube.
The camera went in, it was ok a first, then I remembered that the bowel was a fairly large organ, and wasn’t straight. Bollocks, he pumped air in to stretch the tissue to maneuver round the bends, I felt shit dribble out and I clenched my now numb face, I let out a sigh when he retracted, bad thinking. Why? I have made a simple equation to explain:

Runny poo + heavy wind ÷ a tight space = a spray of shit
According to the doc there was too much shit for him to see what he was doing; I had to go for an enema. Maybe a good looking nurse would ease the pain; maybe concealing a boner would take my mind off the liquid being squeezed up my arse.
I was met by a weird, gangly middle aged man, very nervous chap, once he had me in the right position (again naked) he asked me ‘what next then’, I replied ‘ I assume that pouch goe’s up my anus mate’, he sniggered and got on with it, I got the feeling he gave an extra squeeze for good luck.
Done, now I needed a shit, a shit of runny brown stuff, part water, part lube, part stool, I jogged to the toilet to find skidders in my pants, and after 10 seconds of being sat there, a toilet half full of what can only be described as milky brown porridge.
45 mins later I was asked to hobble (careful not to spread he shit outside my crack) back onto the bed and have the camera inserted once more, this time he pumped air in 5 times, took 3 biopsies (shavings of the organ, bastard) and yanked the camera out like he was switching off a fucking toilet light.
I fell asleep in the nurse’s clinic after my ordeal, only to wake and find crusty poo around my arse, my arse cheeks and half way to by socks.
This reminded me of the time I spent in RNH Haslar have my Jeremy Kyles re fitted.

I had to shave from belly button to knee, not easy doing your own arse, and was then told I was having an enema.

There were four of us that morning having ops on the arse all requiring enemas, however there were only two traps in the ward bathrooms.

I had my enema, (mmm nuff said) and was told to lie still for as long as possible.

I lay still for a couple of moments and then decided that sitting still on the crapper made more sense, I bolted myself in and waited and waited for about 10 seconds, when whoosh, "Oh My God my arse has been sick!"

I also hear slam click as other trap is covered shortly followed by a whoosh, I am still p1ssing out of my arse when there is a frantic knocking at the door, followed by screaming hurry up and a shuffling to the other trap with more incessant hammering.

Can't he hear, wooosh, Oh my Gawd!, wheesh from the other trap, "fcuking 'ell"

Outside door bursts open as fourth victim tries to get in, I'm sitting there feeling like my arse is hanging out, flushing like a man possessed to get a coooling effect, other trap is telling them to "Feck off"

Outside Door is pulled open, "NURSE!!" shouts first man, followed by "HELP!" from second, I started giggling as the contents of my arse are finally dripping to a stop.

The Door slams open and this big Munter of a Staff Nurse bursts in, "You two, finish up and get out", "But, Nurse", "No Buts get out and mind that mess"

Leaving the bogs we were greeted by an army of cleaners mopping around a smelly linen bin and a very sheepish young matelot in bright clean robe (which does up the back) who on seeing us laid into us big time. I still to this day don't know where the fourth guy went.

After the op I had to have some sort of water soluble fibre to bulk my pooh up and make me crap. That is another story.

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