I have a big bottom. You could say I am pretty loose in the caboose. Plump in the rump. With a lot of junk in my trunk. Young children fear the extent of my rear. I have a tremendous tushie. There’s lots of air in my derriere.
I am, in short, anally ample.
Given how big my butt is, it could hide a lot of things. Like a comb. Like a razor. Like a can of shaving cream. Like a whole grooming kit in a stylish Italian leather case. Like a gerbil (but not Richard Gere’s gerbil, which, as everybody knows, was an urban myth and, anyway, even if it wasn’t, it would be dead by now, although if it had reproduced…). Like Osama bin Laden.
Yes, you could hide a lot in my fat ass. Like cancer.
Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! SINCERITY ALERT! SINCERITY ALERT! The previous paragraph almost contained a heartfelt sentiment. For chrissakes, this is not a confessional blog! One Raymi the Minx in the world is quite enough! Quick, throw in a non-sequitur to purple defenestrate oblongicity!
Ah, much better.
See, there was this thing growing in my butt. When I was younger, I had strange growths all over my body and never gave them a second thought. But, as I’ve grown older, I’ve been inundated, practically harassed with a steady stream of media (okay, one TV report and three newspaper articles) that said, in essence, DON’T TRUST YOUR BODY AS YOU GET OLDER! IT’S BREAKING DOWN IN THE MOST HORRIBLE, PAINFUL WAYS! ASSUME THE WORST! IF ANYTHING CHANGES, GO TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM OF YOUR HOSPITAL AT ONCE AND BEG THEM TO REMOVE A LIMB! So, I immediately assumed I had – well, colorectal sounds so cold, so let’s call it ass cancer.
That’s just like my life, isn’t it? Let’s face it: cancer of the ass is not one of the more glamourous diseases you could get. Breast cancer gets all of the love. Lung cancer gets all of the respect. Both of them get the research funds. But, ass cancer? Despite being the third leading cause of death by cancer, ass cancer slinks around dark alleys begging for spare change. Even Pauly Shore wouldn’t agree to be the public spokesperson for ass cancer – that’s how unloved the disease is.
It took me four months from the time I first noticed something unusual growing in my anus to the time I finally went to see the doctor about it. After all, the last thing anybody wants to hear from their doctor is: “You’ve got ass cancer.” You could just die of embarrassment.
I finally convinced myself that this was something I could talk to, man to man, with my family physician. (The blood I was discovering on my underwear might have hastened this decision somewhat. One of the things this experience has taught me is that you can’t stop rectal bleeding with a bandaid. That may seem obvious once it’s stated, but it’s not the sort of thing you would give any thought to unless you were actually forced to confront it.) I manfully strode into his office, ready to face the terrifying truth. So, of course, I became a tongue-tied idiot when a pretty young woman in a white lab coat holding a clipboard walked in and explained that she was an intern who would take my symptoms before I could talk to the doctor.
That was bad enough, but I thought, okay, at least my (have I mentioned male?) family doctor will be the one examining me. Imagine my surprise when the female intern walked into the room with him and he proceeded to give her a guided tour of my rectum. “See the mounds there? Yeah, they’re definitely friable – that would account for the bleeding. Look to the left…no, I don’t see any bleeding points anywhere else. Stool looks fine.” About the only thing that would have been more embarrassing would have been if he had added: “See that growth there. That would be a perfect place for a gift shop.”
Oh, and the device he used to open up my anus? I’m never going to make Richard Gere gerbil jokes again!
It turns out that all I had was hemorrhoids. I’ve got hemorrhoids! Yay, hemorrhoids! I walked out of the doctor’s office and, all of a sudden, the sunshine seemed shinier and soda pop seemed sodaier. I’ve got hemorrhoids, not ass cancer. And, life is good.
This has been a public service message of the Let’s Stop Being Embarrassed By Colorectal (Ass) Cancer And Get The Disease A Decent Celebrity Spokesperson Foundation and this publication.