This post doesn’t have anything to do with the title. It’s not even a real post. It’s just an update to tell you that my friend Maile drove me to have my surgery tubes removed today, and then my doctor forced her to pin me to the table so that I wouldn’t punch him when he yanked the tubes out of my stomach. And Maile looked at both of us for a second to see if he was joking and he super wasn’t, so she shrugged and totally pinned me to the table. This is the sign of a good friend. Or a terrible one. Maybe both.
Then the doctor unstitched me and yanked, and it felt like if you’d accidentally gotten a jump-rope wrapped around your liver. Or like if I was a one of those dolls that talks when you pull the string on her back. And the thing that I said was: “Ughaaah.” Which equates to “So now I know what a yo-yo feels like and also why people want to punch you.”
Also, there was butthole art all over the wall from Debra Messing, and there was also an art display of healthy versus unhealthy assholes. (The literal ones. Not the figurative ones.) But it sort of made sense because my doctor just borrows the office from the rectal surgeon who works there. I didn’t even notice the assholes until we were leaving and Maile thought that was weird, but I think it was weirder that she was so eager to pin me to the table as someone practiced battlefield style, bite-down-on-this-bullet sort of medicine on me.
Then my doctor started talking about catacombs and corpses and he closed by telling us that he would probably die soon but he felt blessed about it because we were all doomed and that the end times were possibly near. He said it very cheerfully though. The man has a hell of a bedside manner. As we were driving home Maile said, “This shit could only happen to you. It’s like you manifested the exact kind of crazy, fantastic doctor to fit your life. I would never believe it if I weren’t there.” And, yes, that’s sort of how my whole life goes.
PS. I took a picture of the butt-hole art and I wanted to link to the artist, but when you google “Debra Messing Butthole” you really don’t get what you think you’re going to get. Or you get exactly what you think you’re going to get if you’re interested in pictures of Debra Messing’s butthole. Which I wasn’t, but I understand why google would be confused. This time it’s on me, Google. I asked for too much.