I'm a 32 year old female and I have a hemorrhoid. I don't know what a hemorrhoid actually is. Like, what's the medical definition of a hemorrhoid? I don't wanna know, to be honest. I don't want to actually understand what the fuck that thing that dangles from my ass is made of. Dangles is the wrong word choice. It doesn't actually “dangle.” It's not like I have a pair of balls back there. It's more like a tiny skin balloon the size of one of those marbles that children in the 60's were always playing with. It just chills back there, mellow as fuck, and it actually doesn't affect my life at all, but that's because I have a mild case.
My dad, on the other hand, suffers from a severe case of the rhoids. Poor guy. He says he has like 7 to 10 of them. My mom actually counted them one by one. She says they look like a “bouquet of flowers” that are coming out of his ass. Dear God. He has both external and internal hemorrhoids. You can't actually see the internal ones because they live inside his anus, but they hurt like hell.
A few years ago, dad was in so much pain because of his hemmies that he literally cried every time he took a shit. He went to the doctor and said “I'm done with them. Get them out of my ass right now.” So the doctor explained his options which was basically just one option that sounded like a form of torture from the time of the Spanish Inquisition. I don't know what the name of the procedure was but, in a nutshell, the doctor went in there (there meaning his asshole) with some sort of gun-like contraption with rubber bands at the end, and tied a tight rubber band around every single fucking hemorrhoid. When I picture this, I always visualize a hairstyle that Mel B. of the Spice Girls used to wear, where she would tie her hair into tight little buns all around her head. I think Bjork did this too back in the early 2000's. Back to the procedure, the worst thing about it was that they did this while he was awake.
I was there in the waiting room when my dad came out limping, being held up by my mom on one side and a nurse on the other. Dad looked like shit. Like he'd just experienced something none of us would ever fucking understand, like he'd given up on life. When we got in the car, I asked him if they'd taken them out. Mom immediately turned around and told me to “shut the fuck up.” The reason she told me to shut the fuck up was because they hadn't taken the hemorrhoids out quite yet. That was just half of the procedure. The other half happens when you go home.
I don't understand how we can have inventions like 3-D printers and Segways and not have a better, more painless cure for hemorrhoids. If you thought the first half of the procedure was barbaric, just wait till the second half. What happens during the second half is: you go home, go about your day, check your emails, prepare a quiche, what have you, until the rubber bands basically cut all blood flow from each hemorrhoid and they suffocate and fall out of your ass. This makes Kafka's torture chamber from “In The Penal Colony” seem like a fucking lollipop. Basically dad would just shit out his hemorrhoids. I'm not one to use the expression SMDH often, but SHAKE MY DAMN FUCKING HEAD.