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I want to take you on a journey inside of my heart. I want to take you on a journey inside of my soul. I want to take you on a journey inside of my bowels. Come with me as I take you on a tour starting from the surface of my rectum to the inner workings of my large intestine.

Deeper inside of me we will go, and deeper inside of me, you shall know. (It’s kind of going to be like the magic school bus. Except the magic school bus that you are taking a journey in will be a small plastic toy, and hopefully, for my sake, it will be well lubricated. And possibly on the inside of a party balloon.) This is a story about joy, misery, and personal triumph. I, Ben Palmer, invite you, to take a journey……deeper inside of me.


It started out on a hot, steamy, sweaty day. Sweat dripped from my brow, but the sweat from my brow only served as foreshadow to what was about to drip from my butt. Ravioli was the choice for dinner. When I first saw the red colored stool, I thought to myself, “It’s probably just the Chef Boy Are Dee.” But it wasn’t. Twenty two rectal explosions and three days later, I found myself in the emergency room at the hospital, waiting for some poor soul to inspect my butt hole.


That poor soul was Dr. Chen, an Asian doctor. “We take look at butt,” he said. I thanked him and bowed my head out of respect. He looked at me back, not amused. I stayed in the hospital for several days. I had many different nurses come in and take my temperature and my blood pressure. I got lonely one night and I happened to have a hot nurse taking my temperature. She said “Your temperature is 97 degrees” and I said, “That’s totally hot.” I’m not sure if you can consider that a pick up line or not, but at the time, I thought it was genius. Now, in hind sight, I see that it was retarded.


I never saw the hot nurse again, and I am glad for that. I was scheduled to have a colonoscopy the following day. To have a successful colonoscopy, I was to take a bottle of laxative the night before in order to flush out my system. I took the bottle of laxative, a can of sprite to chase it with, and my sorry self into the bathroom to begin an interesting night. Ten minutes later the nurse came into the bathroom, saw me sitting on the toilet, and said “Uhm, you don’t have to sit on the toilet right now…the laxative takes a couple of hours to kick in.” I felt rebellious that night, so I told her that I was going to stay in the bathroom anyways, just in case the laxative starts earlier than expected.


About an hour later, I had already drank my laxative and was very bored from sitting on the toilet by myself, so I sheepishly went back to my bed. I fell asleep and woke up the next morning to the surprise that the laxative never worked, with the exception of just a tiny little squirt on my sheets. This was the perfect opportunity for me to use my pirate voice. “Arrr, I soiled me britches!” She giggled with glee. Then she broke some awful news to me. Since my laxative did not work, my only option to flush out my system before the colonoscopy would be to have…………………an ENEMA. (Dun dun dun!!!)


Lord. Have mercy. On my soul.


I almost cried. My mom called me on the phone a few minutes after I heard the news, and I told her as my voice trembled, “Mom, the nurse just told me I have to have a tube stuck in me and water sprayed up my butt…I gotta go.” My mother responded with sympathy. Her little baby was bout to get raped. The nurse was nice about the whole situation. “Don’t worry, I’m only going to spray this much water inside of you.” I looked at the bucket of water she was holding, which looked like about a third of the Atlantic Ocean. “That comforts me, nurse, thank you.”


I took about twenty minutes to pace around the hospital room, pump my chest, and psyche myself out for the torture that was to ensue. I felt like Rocky Balboa. When I was finally ready, I crawled into my bed, pulled my pants down, and held on to the bed railing like it was the lap bar on a death defying roller coaster. She lubed it up and stuck it in.


Or at least she claimed to have lubed it up. It felt like she took one my dogs chewed rawhides and twisted it inside of me. I now know what it feels like to be the cork on a wine bottle. The water went inside of me and it felt very uncomfortable. She finished spraying and I waddled into the bathroom to release. We repeated the process another time and she left me and my tarnished butt hole to be with ourselves in mourning. My butt remained sore for days. I now have a different outlook on gay people. I don’t understand their sexual preference, but I do respect their commitment.


The colonoscopy was a breeze compared to the enema. I was treated to a nice dose of anesthesia to put me out before the procedure. I woke up from the colonoscopy and was told that I have ulcerative colitis, which is a disease of the colon. It kind of sucks because now I can’t eat peanuts and popcorn and some other good foods, but oh well, I just take it as something else I can blog about.


I hope you have enjoyed this wonderful story of love, joy, hope, disaster, and the overcoming of tragedy. This was a journey, a journey into the heart, soul, large intestine, the outer surface of my anus, and the amazing creatures that I refer to as my bowels. Thank you for taking the journey, this wonderful wonderful journey, and thank you for for taking a look…..deeper inside of me.
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