Assplode Therapy

Sat, 26 Jan 2008

OK, so I’ve been having stomach problems. No big deal. But one of my friends, a rich, gay lawyer and alternative health guru, insisted on doing something about it. He turned me on to probiotic supplements, and for six months he’s been nagging me to try colon hydrotherapy.

What’s colon hydrotherapy? It’s like colonic irrigation. What’s that? Well, like an enema, only more. Much, much more.

I said no. No, thank you, no, I’m really not a fan of enemas. He said, you have to do it, the health benefits are incredible. I’ll even pay for it.

My friend wouldn’t take no for an answer. He paid the hydrotherapy clinic in advance for six sessions. At first I told myself, I’m not going to do this. Then I decided to call and just ask some questions. I spent a lot of time on the phone with the resident expert, explaining that I had serious reservations and I was only checking it out to please my friend. I wasn’t convinced the procedure wouldn’t do me harm, actually. Reading up on it, I found it could hurt people with ulcerative or inflammatory bowel disorders. But the doctor’s diagnosis ruled out those problems, and with my friend urging me on, I went ahead and reluctantly made an appointment.

That’s how I came to be lying on a hospital bed with a thick metal nozzle pumping warm water up my ass for three-quarters of an hour while Maggie, the attractive young woman holding the tube, made small talk about her trip to the cloud forest of Costa Rica. Occasionally she would pinch off the outflow hose, which was very uncomfortable, but it only lasted a minute. Otherwise, it wasn’t terribly unpleasant. It just felt like lying on a hospital bed with a warm and slightly pulsing metal tube up my ass.

After the first session, I felt great. Energized. Wonderful. So I set up the rest of the appointments.

The second time was a let down. I didn’t feel any better, and I had watery shit for a day afterward. Both times I was disappointed that hardly any stuff came out of me, after my friend’s graphic descriptions. The outflow tube is transparent and runs right next to the bed, so you can see what’s coming out. In my case, it was just water and bubbles.

Today, during the third session, I was cramping badly and finally asked to be let go. And then I did let go. Apparently a little chunk of shit – maybe a piece of corn or something – had been blocking the outflow tube. But as soon as the young woman removed the nozzle, the unforgiving laws of physics and fluid dynamics took over and I assploded all over the bed, the rubber mat, and finally the bathroom. I hadn’t taken off my socks and they were soiled as soon as my feet hit the floor. The stench was foul, like something long dead, which I guess it was. This was no ordinary shit. This was deep shit.

Maggie shrugged at the mess. “We see it all in here,” she chirped at my naked backside as I flung myself toward the toilet in the next room.

That’s the whole point of the treatment, she reminded me cheerfully through the closed door. It often doesn’t happen the first or second or even third session. It takes time to work everything loose.

Maggie had assured me from the start that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, people assplode all the time. Although she didn’t use that term, she called it “release.” I think they should just go ahead and re-name the procedure “assplode therapy.”

Walking out a half hour later, after washing my socks in the sink and using up all the Baby Wipes, I felt like I’d had a bowling ball removed from my belly – ten pounds lighter, ten years younger, and I’m sure an inch slimmer in the waist. Like dropping some heavy old baggage I was carrying so long I stopped noticing it. Like I could just pick up my feet and fly away.

I’m not making any medical recommendations about hydrotherapy here. Some folks insist it is a scam, and it can be even be deadly if the equipment isn’t sterile. It’s definitely expensive and I’m sure after the six sessions I’ll get a pitch about the need to do it twice a year for the rest of my life or more bad shit will pile up and choke the life out of me.

But I think it’s helping, along with the probiotics treatment and the doctor’s medicines and attention to diet and everything else. I was desperate enough to try it in spite of the risk and my aversion to having things shoved up my ass. I’ll go back for the rest of the sessions, but I’ll remember to take off my socks next time.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

One Response to Assplode Therapy

  1. Red

    Entertaining and informative article. Thank you for sharing 🙂


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *