Getting advice seems to be a problem from the moment we are born. Well, not so much getting advice, but listening to it. Parents warn their children not to run with scissors, put on a jacket, wash their hands, and STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER. As children get older, the advice gets more serious: look both ways crossing the street, drive slower, STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER (that one never seems to change). This advice seems pretty self-explanatory, though children always seem to argue about it. But other things we tell children need to be explained: why it's stupid to smoke, why it's necessary to put on your seat belt, why you should STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER. And then there is some advice that just shouldn't need to be given. It is so easy to understand and so damned obvious that it shouldn't even need to be mentioned.
Like "Don't put things in your butt."
Since I just mentioned it, it clearly needed to be mentioned. To Jack (not his real name™) in particular.
Now before I continue, yes this is another rectal foreign object story, and yes I just posted one a couple of weeks ago. But this one is just Too. Damned. Good. So here it is for your reading pleasure and distinct anal discomfort.
My RFO patients have thus far all been men, and Jack was no exception. What makes him slightly different is his age. All of the other men in whose rectums I've spelunked have been in their late 30s or early 40s. In other words, old enough to know better than stick something (Coke bottle, butt plug, dildo, etc) in their asses. Jack, on the other hand, was in his late 60s. So WAAAAAY old enough to know better than to stick something in his ass.
Jack came in around midnight complaining of, you guessed it, a pain in his ass. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with the variety of toys available at his local sex shop, so he decided to make his own. Now a quick perusal of Google will reveal a wide variety of do-it-yourself sex toy kits. Yes, I checked. For science, really. These evidently were also not good enough for Jack and his, uh, needs. No, instead of some commercially available silicone toy kit, he decided wax would be better.
Vanilla-scented wax, to be precise.
I walked into Jack's room to see an elderly-looking man in Standard RFO Position - somewhat on his side with a grimace on his face. I decided not to beat around the bush.
Me: OK, what did you put in there?
Jack: *grunt* It's a candle.
Me: . . .
Me: And why did you . . . Ugh, never mind. How long has it been in there?
Jack: *grunt* Two . . .
Me: Oh, just two hours?
Jack: . . . days.
Yes indeed, Jack had melted down a vanilla-scented candle, molded it into an apparently pleasing shape, and inserted it into his rectum. Two fucking days ago. He had been trying in vain (obviously) to remove it manually. He had tried an enema. He had tried stool softeners. But last I checked, none of those things can melt wax.
The object was easily palpable in his rectum, but it felt fucking huge. There was nothing for me to grasp, no way for me to remove it easily. So off to the operating theatre we went.
Once he was asleep I could do a more thorough exam. Unfortunately the exam was exactly the same. It still would not come out. Most foreign objects can be grasped with some special graspers and will slide back out the way it went in. But not this goddamned thing. There was no lip, no flap, no anything on which to gain any purchase.
So I did the next best thing: I crushed it. That is not hyperbole or exaggeration - I literally put the grasper in his rectum and closed the jaws around the thing, crushing whatever part of it I could into bits. I then removed those bits and went at it again.
The next 20 minutes of my life consisted of breaking off another small piece and removing it (along with some of the plastic wrapper which he had not bothered to remove), all the while taking care not to grab any portion of his rectum (that would be considered bad, as you can imagine). Finally it was small enough to remove the remainder, and everyone in the room breathed a large sigh of relief. I think I even audibly grunted in Jack's place when it came out.
The next morning Jack felt much better. I gave him his discharge instructions, as well as what he could expect over the next several days. And predictably I also gave him a bit of advice that should never actually need to be spoken aloud:
1) Don't EVER stick anything into your rectum ever again.
2) If you decide to ignore #1, don't wait two days to seek help when you can't get it out.