I'll see that snark — and raise you one.

Today I saw a colorectal surgeon.To answer the obvious questions: Yes, I’m still on vacation. No, I could not wait til I got home; the pain was so severe that I willingly drove nearly an hour into a very questionable area of Miami in order to have a doctor with extremely large hands glove up, put on some caving gear and —

You get the idea.

I won’t go into the specifics* but suffice it to say that tomorrow afternoon I’ll start drinking that nasty colonoscopy stuff in order to have a surgical procedure done on Wednesday that will involve anesthesia, gloved hands in very delicate parts, a donut pillow to sit on afterwards — and hopefully some really good drugs.

I will share this: my particular ailment ranks as the third most-painful anal condition!

It is extremely painful, says the woman who still can’t believe she had a baby without any medication, in a birth pool in my bedroom. (Thank goodness I had witnesses. Seriously. My first words after delivering My Masterpiece were, “I can NOT believe I did that.” I take ty*lenol for a paper cut.)

Luckily, this particular colorectal surgeon, Dr. Spelunking, could see me on short notice, as a new patient from out-of-town.

There is truly nothing more enjoyable than answering the question “location of injury” at the colorectal surgeon’s office. (Editor’s note: A close second was last September, dictating to a nurse my “medical goals for treatment” when I was admitted to a hospital for dehydration secondary to diarrhea. While I was getting an IV and blissful, blissful fluids, the nurse said, “What are your medical goals for treatment while you’re here?” I replied, “I’d like to stop shitting my brains out.” She looked shocked and said, “Ma’am, I can’t write that down.” I said, “I was just kidding! I’m not shitting my brains out — it’s my intestines. Please write, ‘Patient would like to stop shitting out her intestines…'”)

That was a fun week. I had to give, uh, samples, every few hours. Samples. In a container. To a nurse. (Please, tell me whoever has that job is paid well.)

But back to filling out forms in Dr. Spelunking’s office. For “location of injury,” I thought for a second and wrote, “ASS.”

When the nurse brought me back, after the usual lecture about stool softeners and fiber and eating a balanced diet, yada yada, she read my chart.

Nurse Tight-Ass: “For ‘Location of Injury’ you wrote…”

Actual Tight-Ass: “ASS.”

Nurse Tight-Ass: (With snark.) “Most people write anus.”

Actual Tight-Ass, who has spent the last 24 hours on the toilet, in pain, debating whether or not to see a colorectal surgeon while on freaking vacation; then spent hours calling the local hospital that is approximately three minutes from my parent’s house and has an actual colorectal surgery center — only to be told their next available appointment is in 2015 — while finally finding this particular colorectal surgeon in a hospital that is — again — located nearly an hour away in a very questionable area that I would only drive to if I were having pain in my ass so severe that I couldn’t wait til I got home to see my usual colorectal surgeon, who has a lovely office in a lovely area of town: “This is a colorectal surgeon’s office, correct? Do you think I’m here because I have swine flu?”

*I will totally tell you exactly what my specific anal ailment is, if you want to email me. geberika (at) gmail (dot) com. I will go into graphic detail. I will send pictures. You are warned.

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