Re: Butt Doctor
You blokes had it easy!<br /><br />I was pi*sing blood (like claret) 20 years ago and hospitalised for tests.<br /><br />Hospital stuffed up at every turn. Purged me the night before. Team of nurses shoving stuff up my ar*e at 4 am to finish the job. Nice girls, but as it's night time and I'm in bed I'd be happier with just one at a time working on the front of me. <br /><br />No food since lunch the day before. Due for theatre at 7 am. Nada. At 8 a.m. I ask what's going on. A few more enquiries results in news about 10 a.m. that I'll be in theatre soon. Yeah, right. Same question in the next couple of hours with promises it'll be soon. <br /><br />Shift changes. A serious nurse makes some serious enquiries. It's all over. Some d*ckhe*d stuffed up and forgot to collect me at 6.30 a.m. but they'll definitely do me tomorrow morning. Right. This means no food for a couple of days in total, and I'm already hungry as the system has been emptied of what little was in it.<br /><br />"Nurse, can I have some food, please?" A new nurse feels really sorry for me and organises a sandwich. I start gobbling it as fast as I can 'cos I know it's bound to be prohibited. Sure enough, Nurse Ratchett descends and tells me I can't eat it because I'm going to theatre in the morning. But I've got it all in my mouth and she can get stuffed.<br /><br />More purging, shoving things up my bum and so on and then we finally get to theatre where as near as I can work out the bast*rds shoved a garden hose with a camera attached right up my front exhaust. Probably the high point for me was waking up part way through and trying to tell the dumb [insert worse expletives here] that I'd like to be put back to sleep again, but nobody noticed. The operation worked great as far as they're concerned but for a couple of weeks afterwards I'm not pis*ing blood, I'm just flat out bleeding. The front exhaust hasn't been the same since.<br /><br />Go back a few weeks later to be told by this pompous consultant urinary surgeon that they couldn't find anything wrong with me, but come back if anything happens. So why am I still pis*ing blood, I ask. He tents his hands and says these things sometimes happen and they don't know why.<br /><br />Six months of frequent renal colic follow, and it ain't fun. but I've been checked out at vast expense to the taxpayer by one of a handful of top d*ck doctors and there's nothing wrong with me, so I guess I just have to endure it.<br /><br />Pass a quarter inch stone at the end of it. Take it back to the hospital and booked in for an appointment with the great renal surgeon.<br /><br />His junior comes in and says he'll have a look at the X-rays taken when I was first hospitalised. Puts it in the light frame and immediately puts his finger on a spot and says: "There it is."<br /><br />So why did you miss it six months ago, I ask.<br /><br />He goes out and a while later the great surgeon comes in and peers at the X-ray and says "I think we can be forgiven for missing that!". Yeah, right, like I could be forgiven for losing my boot up your ar*e.<br /><br />In the succeeding twenty or so years the great renal surgeon has been a promintent advocate of euthanasia and regularly appears in press interviews and letters to the editor. <br /><br />If your doctor says you're on the way out and to stock up on plastic bags and gaffer tape to suffocate yourself like this pr*ck does, I'd get a second opinion. And a few more.
