Anal Fistula.

Many of you have observed, repeatedly and vocally, that I seem to be obsessed with my own ass.

I'm not denying it. The ass (and more specifically, my ass) holds a position of great importance in my life. You could say that all philosophy comes from the brain, or that all poetry comes from the heart... I have a feeling that all comedy comes, ultimately, from the ass. And that's a great thing. So, okay, I've become known far and wide as something of an ass expert. An asspert. I'm okay with that.

I have realized, however, that those who live by the ass, die by the ass.

Karma dictates that if I was the sort of person who went around kicking people, then I would be laid up with a foot injury. Or if I used to steal lollipops from little children, I might develop tooth decay. Well I Don't generally kick people, and I never took a lollipop. What I do, is talk about the ass all day long, so of course a few years ago karma reached its long pointy finger down from the heavens and smote me with what the medical profession calls an "Anal Fistula."

Now I'm no doctor (not that I let that stop me from handing out prescriptions on the street corner), so I won't try to go into a lengthy medical description of what an anal fistula is exactly. Let's just call it a "little fucking horrible tunnel in your butthole," and leave it at that.

Here's a nice picture I stole from some fancy "Maladies of the butt" website:

Get the picture?

I know what you people are probably thinking. "He got that fistula from all the sex with monkeys." Well, I assure you that all my sexmonkeys are thoroughly screened for diseases and are 100% clean. My sexmonkeys are the healthiest monkeys on the planet, right up to the point where I shave and de-bone them, and then... Er... Re-bone them.

The fistula is just one of those things that just happen. I did not get it from rough prison sex, and I most definitely did not get it (because I know some of you are dying to rub this one in my face) from failing to wash my hands after peeing. I just got it, okay?

Let me tell you, because I can hear you squirming with intellectual curiosity, just what having a fistula is like. First of all, it's a tear in your body, so it hurts like any tear in your skin would. It stings. Like a paper-cut. On your asshole.

Secondly, take a good look at that little picture above. See the tiny brown drop coming out of the mouth of the fistula? That ain't artistic license, my friends. The fuckers leak. Yep. they dribble. I may be a generally gross human being, but I draw the line at persistent anal leaking. Not acceptable.

Okay, stop shuddering long enough for me to tell you the third, and decidedly worst, thing about having a fistula. When you fart (something I do often) 85% of the fart comes out in the normal fashion. But about 15% of your fart shoots out of that little painful tunnel. And it hurts and kind of itches. It's like having a tiny kazoo installed in your ass that delivers electric shocks when you use it. Un. Fucking. Pleasant.

So anyway, it sucked ass (no pun intended). It took me a few months to get it cleared up, and there were enemas and suppositories and check-ups and all manner of ass-centric horror. It eventually ended with some minor surgery which fixed the damn thing once and for all. In the process of dealing with the fistula, I became so unbelievably familiar with the workings of my own asshole it boggles the mind. You know, in a strange way, I think it brought me and my ass closer together.

But in truth, I didn't actually spring blogward tonight to disgust you with a detailed description of the bloody tunnel in my anus. (Disgusting you was just a nice bonus.) I actually wanted to tell you a related story.

In the process of having the whole fistula thing taken care of, I had to see a colon-rectal specialist. (Who, I discovered, have absolutely no sense of humor if you refer to your rectum as "my heiney-hole" or tell them "it itches when I toot.") One of the symptoms I had was some bleeding (remember how those fuckers leak?) and whenever you have rectal bleeding they automatically check you for cancer.

By "check you for cancer," I mean to say "drive an entire television station up your ass." The technical term is a "flexible sigmoidoscopy," which is a lot like a colonoscopy, for those of you playing along at home. It's a big old camera up your ass. It's uncomfortable, and it made me decide that under no circumstances is anything ever going up there again. If I wasn't firmly "exit-only" before, I am now.

So on the day of the sigmoidoscopy, I show up at the doctor's, and I'm understandably nervous, you know, on account of the huge camera up my ass and all. This nice older black nurse takes me to the exam room, and gives me a gown and takes my vitals, and she's being really sweet and calming, which I appreciate. As we get closer and closer to the "invasion," she suddenly looks me square in the eye and says one of the strangest things anyone has ever said to me.

"Why you have a girl face!!!" This she said in the exact tone of voice a little girl would have if she has just looked into a bird cage and exclaimed "Why what a pretty birdie!!!"

I don't remember my exact words, but they were probably something like "wha???"

"You have a girl face," she continued to joyously proclaim, "You look like a woman!!! Has anyone ever told you that you look female??? It's remarkable!!!" All of this, still in that insanely excited voice...

I am stunned. I am agog. I have no idea how to respond to this woman who is happier than a child on Christmas morning to discover that I apparently look like a girl. I, who am usually very articulate, am reduced to "sputter sputter stammer huh?"

I'm still stammering 3 minutes later when the entire Action 7 News Team drives their big white van up my ass.

A girl face?

I know I'm not the manliest guy in the world, but I ask you in all honesty... Funny lookin', sure, but:

The mind (and the ass) boggles. You'd tell me if I was the spitting image of Jane Seymour, right?