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It Sucks to be that Guy

It was some years ago, after I had been fired from my first job, that I had my first real hospital experience. No, getting fired didn't put me in the hospital. It was a quite bizarre circumstance. I believe the month was September, or maybe late August. I'm not sure. Anyway, I had gone to get a mole removed from my chest - just a simple procedure. And the procedure went perfectly well, actually. But on the way home, I felt really weird. Thank goodness my mom was driving, because otherwise, I would have ended up crashing. What happened was, I had what a neurologist later called a "convulsive faint". Not necessarily a seizure, although at the time I thought that's what it was. It only happened for a second, but my mom was freaking out. I just remember swooning, like I was really tired, and I could hear muffled sounds, so I hadn't completely blacked out. I could hear my mom calling my name, then I snapped out of it, and felt slightly nauseous. But I didn't puke.

So now the next step was to go to the hospital. My mom drove out to ACMC (Atlantic City Medical Center), and after waiting for some time, we went in. I was more nervous about the hospital than having another attack. I had to put on that blue smock thing, and they took me in a room. They did blood work, and an MRI, and all this other weird stuff. I waited in the room for the results to come back. I was reading a magazine, when I overheard a conversation between my roommate and a doctor on the other side of the partition that separated us. The man was complaining of stomach pains and a bleeding rectum. The doctor said the only way to tell for certain was that he'd have to stick his finger 'up there' to be sure. I tried hard not to burst out laughing, and at the same time, felt sorry for the poor bastard. He didn't want to be violated, and he kept begging and pleading. I remember him distinctly saying, "Isn't there anything else you can do? This guy was doing anything to talk the doctor out of sticking his finger up his ass.

The doctor reluctantly said there was nothing else he could do. Time seemed to stop for the next few minutes. I heard the stinging slap as the doctor put on a rubber glove. Then came the dreaded words.

"Roll on your side ... knees up ... take a deep breath..."

Then there was a loud sigh from the poor bastard as the doctor shoved his way in. It was the sigh of a man who's thinking: "God get this over with at the same time. It wasn't a 'Brokeback Mountain' sigh. It was also the sigh of a man who's thinking: "I'll never live this down. My buddies are gonna tease the crap outta me.

Meanwhile, I'm covering my mouth with the magazine and laughing silently to myself. It was over quick, and the doctor's diagnosis was: "You have colitis.

I was soon spirited out of the hospital with a seizure diagnosis. It turns out later that it was just a convulsive faint, which is normal, according to the neurologist. I hope to God I never have colitis.

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