The Diagnosis:
 
Getting there was half the damn battle. It all started when I passed golf ball sized blood clots in my stool. For 36 hours I played the denial game thinking this would just go away and I'd be OK...It didn't.

I went into zombie mode and submitted myself to a battey of tests that included sigmoidoscopy, colonoscopy, upper and lower GI series, ultra sound and enough blood drawn to fill a milk jug! I had more fingers and probes up my ass with so much activity down there it was a like free fire zone.
The lower GI test was probably the most memorable if only because my memory is jogged by noise. They inject you with air first so you are open to a barium mixture that coats your bowel for the xray. The pressure of the air and barium inside you can only be compared with sitting on an open fire hydrant!

What seemed like an hour photo shoot was in reality about ten minutess of xrays with the cutest blond xray technician fishing around my arse during this time adjusting me on the table for the right vantage points to shoot. All the while I'm playing squeeze cheeks holding back such pressure I thought I was going to explode all over their walls.

So now I'm painfully asking where's the bathroom? is it close by? what if I don't make it? Do the beautiful people in the Chevy commercials ever go through this? The tech wasn't answering me and I could only assume it was because of the bile backing up in her throat! Finally she said "Ok, the bathrroom is down the hall 3rd door on the left" and away I went.

Running like a drunk on rollerskates past a lineup of old ladies in gowns with their arses exposed looking like models for the next edition of "Geriatric Secrets". I hit the head and literally exploded laughing and farting for five minutes while all the compressed air and barium left my body...My wife later told me she could here me out in the main waiting room! It gets better but thats for next time!

I'm The Mad Crapper...Out!