Lately, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my asshole. I'm sure many of you, as well, have spent time thinking about my asshole over the years. Perhaps you've even said, at one time or another, something along the lines of, "Boy, I'd like to (verb or verb+noun or verb+noun+preposition) dannye's ass."

Normally, I wouldn't spend that much time thinking about my own asshole, but there is nothing quite like pain to focus one's attention. It can take your mind off of most anything else. Perhaps that's the basis of the masochistic lifestyle. I wouldn't know. I try to avoid pain whenever possible, but I currently have a pain in the ass that is not existential or sociological. It is real and it throbs and burns like nothing I've ever felt before. I suppose the closest analogy would be a really bad toothache, but a toothache doesn't burn. So there really is no good analogy.

I suppose, like many people, I've actually had a hemorrhoid or two for several years. They just kind of hung out down there and didn't really cause any problems, so I learned to live with them. I even went to a proctologist a few years ago and asked him about them and he bent me over some Medieval piece of furniture and told me, yes, they were there, but as long as they weren't giving me any problem, it was best just to treat them like one would the illegal immigrants working on the lawn next door. In other words, just know that something's wrong but that there's really not anything productive that can be done about it.

Now, however, at least one of the illegal immigrants has taken a shovel and hit me upside the head, and I fear that something will have to be done about it. I fear action must be taken. Borders will need to be closed and protected.

I spent a couple of nights squirming in pain without sleep before I broke down and visited my family doctor. I told him my story and he exhaled deeply and said, with a sort of resigned disgust, "Well, I guess I'll have to take a look." I said, "What fun for you, eh!?" I realized this wasn't going to be the highlight of his day, but he could have been a bit more polite about it.

My doctor's recommendation to me, and the main point of writing this piece as part of the "what if?" additions to the data base, was this: Avoid having surgery on this problem at all costs. He told me that surgeons do not like to perform this surgery. He said the reasons were that it was a very painful surgery and does not always solve the problem. Part of the "painful" part is due to the fact that they won't prescribe anything that'll really kill the pain afterwards because all opiates are likely to cause constipation. Obviously, this would be a problem when you'd really be needing some "smooth flow" for a while.

I can think of other reasons surgeons wouldn't be overly fond of this surgery, but you'd think a doctor would be used to all kinds of shit everyday. Anyway, my family doctor said we should try to calm these puppies down and see if living with the illegals might be possible after all.

I had been using Anusol suppositories and had even resorted to aloe vera when I was trying to get some sleep. I could just hear my plant cringe when I told it why I was cutting a big leaf. "You're going to put me WHERE?" I think I almost had a plant revolt. The Algonema which is a neighbor to my aloe plant started sending out new barbed shoots when I fessed up to my intentions. But I think the entire garden eventually grew to feel my pain and allow me the cutting from the aloe. Sad to say, it didn't help at all. When you have a burning pain that aloe vera won't even throw a good punch at, you know you're in trouble.

My family MD prescribed me some "Analpram HC® Cream 2.5%" to help reduce the swelling as well as some Lidocaine in case the pain got so bad that I needed some deadening agent. I tried putting some of the Lidocaine on my dick and didn't notice any difference at all, so I knew it must be some good stuff.

Now, here comes the fun part that those of you who haven't been so totally grossed out so far that you wanted to retch up all of last week's meals might want to skip. I will now take you through the daily bowel movement habits of a person suffering from severe hemorrhoidal discomfort. You see, hemorrhoids are like Yankees in the deep South. They may go back up, but you can always count on them coming back down at some point. And there is nothing quite so likely to bring the family back down South as that time of the day when it's time to be taking the Browns to the Super Bowl. You remember that part of Indiana Jones and Raiders of the Lost Ark where the huge boulder was rolling down that narrow tunnel, about to kill our intrepid hero? OK. That was a metaphor in that movie, and if you didn't get it then, you will when you get older.

In my experience, and I pray to God you never have this experience, even though it's quite likely you will at some point, the best thing to do is first grease the barrel real good before the first shot is fired. You can use a sex lube or aloe vera gel, but use something to keep the Indiana Jones scenario as painless as possible. Then, if it still feels as if you're about to hurt yourself with that initial volley, you can use a technique I call "turdaforming." You can suck the turd back up and try again until you've shaped it into a harmless smooth projectile. Once the Browns are on the field (this metaphor works better than illegal immigrant workers for this part of the writeup; bear with me) you will likely find the renegades are dangling again. This is when you use some Analpram cream plus use extreme prejudice to digitally force the Yankees north of the Mason-Dixon line immediately after . Then you can tell how the rest of the day is going to go by the length of time it takes to get over the searing, earth-scorching pain you just suffered doing so. If the pain subsides in ten or fifteen minutes, you will probably be able to sit in a real chair and walk around like a real person (unlike the clinched duck walk on the other days) and act like life is almost normal again. And you may well be on the road to years of ignoring this problem again. However, if the pain is still active after half an hour, it's time to get out the Lidocaine and give yourself that semi-demi-epidural and resign yourself to an uncertain future.

The Interweb tells me that there are all sorts of alternatives to the most painful of all surgeries to fix this problem. It says that doctors are using lasers, lancing, banding, etc. and having great results. What does my family doctor say? He says, "DO NOT LET A SURGEON MESS WITH THIS (until it's either that or death)." I trust him. I think he might have suffered this problem himself at one time or another. Maybe the next time I see him, I'll tell him, "I guess I'll need to take a look."