Pain In The Ass

Imagine you were immigrating to a new country. Upon arrival, which of the following activities would you choose?

1. Shop in dazzling supermarkets loaded with goodies

2. Dine in excellent restaurants and eat like a local

3. Upgrade your wardrobe by purchasing new underwear and socks

4. Take loads of photos to share with family and friends

5. Sleep like a hedonist and go whole hog as well on daily schedules

6. Search for jobs on the Internet and in the Sunday newspaper

7. Make friends and start networking with neighbors

8. Do tai chi and play tennis

9. Take pain pills every five hours and boost their effectiveness with Ibuprofen

10. See a doctor and make an appointment for a procedure

Designing this multiple-choice question was easy, as all I needed was to run down the line of what I have been doing since my arrival in Knoxville. I graciously went through from No 1 to No 6 in between jet lags. For No 7, you remember Robert the widower who had broken tear bags? I was on my way to be acquainted with so many people as I can. Then strangely, I noticed I couldn’t finish one set of Tai Ji in the morning.

Before the first “move hands like clouds” movement (there are three in the whole set), I felt the stabbing pain of a needle in my anal area. By the hour, its power radiated further into my body, from my butt cheeks to my legs, my waist, my arms, and my neck. I was not scared because I had the similar pain before I left China. I treated it as hemorrhoids by applying ointments, visiting massage therapists, cupping my back, adjusting diet and bathing in hot water. And I was fine flying across the Pacific.

However, on Day 3 into the painful saga, when the pain escalated to an intolerable degree, I panicked. What am I gonna do? If I were in China, I would know exactly what I should do. Get up and go to the nearest hospital — Dalian Number Two Hospital Affiliated with Dalian Medical University, register for a Proctologist, and receive treatment. But since I was told that in America, one does not see a doctor like Chinese people do in China, I passed my concern to CW, who then made the following No 9 and 10 happen.

Through Ms. Pitts, we contacted Dr. Peeler who recommended Dr. Green. He called and arranged for Jonathan Pleasant to help me. Almost-A-Dr. Pleasant, (Thank goodness he has such a pleasant name), was the very first medical person I had ever experienced who said so many “I’m sorry”s behind my back. He said it as his finger did a 360-degree examination inside my rectum. Fortunately, he was there for only ten seconds, but in my psyche, he was there for hours.

It turned out my problem was beyond Jonathan Pleasant’s expertise. When he returned to the examination room, he gave me two prescriptions to fill at a nearby pharmacy. He also referred me to Dr. Stone with an appointment on the following Wednesday, with enough painkillers to survive the five day wait. Tilting my butt next to CW in our pickup truck, I was just praying Dr. Stone would not be as hard as his name. That night, I couldn’t stop talking to CW, “Dr. Pleasant did the most unpleasant thing to me”. “I’ve just lost my anal virginity to him.”

On Wednesday, CW drove me to Dr. Stone’s medical facility with “Surgical” in its name. I presumed everyone who went there was for some kind of surgery and I went in expecting something to be done with my ass. (Ouch!)

After reporting to the front desk, filling in the medical forms, having my blood pressure and temperature checked, I was brought to the exam room where Nurse #2 was waiting. As the two nurses shifted duties, I heard Nurse #1 remark with confidence, “I think it’s a fisher.” Fisher? I’m confused because I don’t fish.

Since Tina and I were the only ones in the room and the doctor hadn’t shown up, I asked her what fisher was. “Oh it’s a tear….” Tina explained in patience with her two hands in front of her chest as if she was typing on a computer. Suspension came into my senses that what I had might not be hemorrhoids, but a tear, a narrow opening inside my butt. And CW later explained that it wasn’t fisher, but fissure.

Dr. Stone opened the door. He’s a tall, half bald and silver haired man, holding his glasses in one hand to the level of his mouth. Very thoughtful looking, I noticed and heard him slowly saying, “I only have a few Chinese friends.” “Well, you’re about to make a new one now.” Just as I had wished, he was a gentle doctor, in terms of speaking in very gentle tones, allowing my inquiries and listening to me till I finished. Conversing with him was like playing Tai Ji — while I had my concerns expressed, he acknowledged them and delivered his advice to help me heal — after his rectal examination, which I hardly felt except when he touched the injured area. Fissure, it was, as Dr. Stone confirmed at the end, very common among young females at my age, which could be healed by natural home remedies — frequent hot baths. (Happy New Year!)

In retrospect of the whole A-drama (“A” as in “Ass”), even though I wrote a lot about the two doctors who examined me, what I felt more grateful for, were actually the people behind the scenes. Without them, I cannot imagine what would have happened to my shivering body in fever and agony. Like guardian angels, they made sure I was saved.

Today is Li Chun (“立春”), the first day of Spring by the lunar calendar. In China, I would be eating dumplings tonight to ensure a lucky new year ahead. But instead, I am tasting buffalo meat for the first time. Diane, our Knoxville hostess for everything, has just proudly announced her dry rub recipe that includes coffee grounds.

Yes, indeed, it shall be a great year!