Proctological Adventures

I want you to think about this: what kind of a person signs up to look at assholes for a career?  Would you be inclined to shake this person’s hand?  Would you accept food from such hands?  What drink would you let them make for you?  Would you let them kiss your children?

What if, every time you saw some person who is impossible to avoid and they are a proctologist, your butt hole started throbbing?  And, what if this person was unavoidable?  What if you just couldn’t miss them?  What then?

This is what happened to me one summer.  I was living in an apartment house in a single person apartment in the student ghetto of Ann Arbor needing a half a credit hour to graduate from the University of Michigan Dental School.  I had three neighbors.  Two were gay and studying theatre and choir, and one was a proctologist.  I have no idea why a proctologist might be staying in a student ghetto apartment complex, but there he was.  He seemed pretty happy about it, too. I myself am no Romeo.

As for myself, I was just born ugly and nothing changed with age. I had bad eye sight, acne and hearing problems.  I had wildly curly hair that was dishwater brown and I was balding at twenty-four.  Even the fat girls abhorred me.

Anyway, I was waiting to hear about a job in New Orleans with a free clinic in the 9th district.  I was desperate having graduated at the bottom of my class, and what with my stuttering problem and general hairiness, jobs were not exactly jumping out to me.  I was delivering pizzas at the time, in a 1997 Ford Escort with an exhaust leak.  Life was, to say the least, miserable.

So one day the proctologist guy shows up at my door needing a cup of sugar.  I don’t know what the Hell for, but he was probably just lonely like me and that was the only excuse he could come up with.  It was a Saturday.  I was up for some conversation and when he suggested a run to the local liquor store for some Bulleit, I thought, what the Hell?  We drank and talked and it wasn’t long before he started telling some pretty funny stories.

The first story involved one of the gay guys who knew this guy was a proctologist and came to him one day with a problem.  I guess he had a dead gerbil up his ass and didn’t know how to get it out.  Either did proctologist guy as it turns out, but he is an imaginative soul and owned a Sears five gallon shop vacuum.  That butt doctor could tell a heck of a tale and he had me in stitches in no time.  I don’t care if any of his stories are actually true, they are so entertaining it doesn’t matter.

I will tell you the three best.  The first involves a cell phone.

Some guy, a psychiatric patient I believe, had shoved his Iphone up his rectum set to vibrate.  Prior to this he had given the number out to every telemarketer he could find, and bought another phone so he could call the butt phone whenever he wanted.  Until he tried to board an airplane this was not a problem apparently.  My friend got called by the TSA to remove said cell phone.  He used twelve inch forceps.  The patient was held down by a dozen agents and a bomb sniffing dog. Roll that movie in your mind if you will.

The second best was the guy who launched a Roman Candle out of his butt, but inserted it backward.  I am sure the video is somewhere on the Internet.  Of course, alcohol was involved as well as mushrooms and meth.  Four of those little fiery balls popped before someone yanked the Roman Candle out of this guy’s butt and possibly saved his life.  Proctologist guy told me he spent seventeen hours in surgery on this guy who ended up pooping in a bag for life, and even sued proctologist guy.  Now that is a real asshole.

But the overall best story was the guy who the police caught getting screwed by a Dalmation in the city park.  There was something about a knot, and that is why the two could not be separated and that is why proctologist guy was called in.  He admitted this had not been covered in medical school and really had no idea of how to treat such a problem.  First he tried icing down the dogs balls, but that didn’t work.  So then he tried snapping the dog’s balls with a rubber band, but that did not work either.  When he got out a needle full of muscle relaxer the dog growled and snapped.  The guy was in total agony according to the proctology guy.  He kept begging for them to just cut the dog’s penis off, but they refused.  This is going to sound incredible, but in the end the cops just shot that dog and it still took another couple minutes for the dog to become flaccid.  Proctologist guy said he freaked out.

There was actually one more story of note.  Some guy farted into a raging fireplace after a heaping plate of beans and basically smelted his own ass.  Proctologist guy said it took ten skin graphs to fix the guy, and that his balls were burnt clean off.  Carharts my ass, says proctologist guy, and then he starts crying.  I’ll never have sex again, he says.  I have no idea what that means.