Did you know that there is a spot on one’s rear end that can only be seen by someone else? A place so hidden away only medical personnel or someone in the government with top secret clearance may have access?
It resides just next to the tailbone on the back inside (medical term) and unless you are truly “gifted” you will not be able to find it. And the larger your rear end, the less chance of even catching a glimpse of the outer rim of this place which in my case contained an abscess.
This thing came on me like a foreclosure and I couldn’t sit for four days, preferring to lie down or stand in an effort to get some relief. I tell you this because I cannot be the only person in the world having had this condition, but if that’s the case, I welcome those who may be in medical science who are looking for research topics. In the end, I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there and after a visit to a free clinic (bless you all) in Florida, I became intimately familiar with my new friend.
I knew I had a problem when I’d try to sit down and something back there would quietly throb. A low throb it was but still very insistent and perfectly clear as it said, “There will be NO sitting today, or tomorrow and in fact, NO sitting at all until I feel like being sat upon.”
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It was the visit to the clinic that gave me a clue as to what was speaking to me from my rear. By the way, this “voice” from the rear is not a recent phenomenon, as we’ve heard it from politicians most of our lives because they speak out of it all the time. But I digress.
Enter Sonja, the Las Vegas “showgirl”. She was about 35, tanned, dark hair, blue eyes, and when she said, “Good afternoon Mr. Harmon, my name is Sonja and I will be your P.A. today,” I practically swallowed the tongue depressor.
Then I heard this ridiculous statement, “Take off your pants and let’s (as in let us both, knowing I couldn’t) see what the problem is. I’ll be back after the nurse takes your vitals.”
The nurse took my vitals and asked if my BP was normally 170/100 to which I replied, “I’m still here am I not?” I’d like to think it was simply the pain of Mr. Throb, but the combination of waiting for the “event” of me being bare butt naked in front of a Las Vegas “showgirl” and fear of the unknown probably had something to do with it. After all, I hadn’t been to Las Vegas since the last time I ran for Congress, if you get my drift.
Evidently this thing I’d been hearing from was large enough to be seen from an advantageous angle because, instead of the dreaded “Bend over this will only take a second” guys hear from the family physician, all I heard from my showgirl was, “My this thing must hurt!” “No, I said, only when I’m awake. Then he speaks to me in a strange, throbbing Middle Eastern slang.”
“Turn over, she said, after positioning me on a slab, and take a deep breath.” I still don’t know what went on back there because I don’t have a security clearance for that area. I have to say, as I write this, I’m feeling much better and whatever she did must have worked because I don’t hear voices anymore telling me I cannot sit, and Lord knows, at this age, sitting is an Olympic sport.
The bottom (‘scuse the pun) line is, I have no idea whether these things originating in an area that can only be seen hopefully by someone with a top secret clearance are going to be covered with Obamacare, but if they’re not, they ought to be. It’s one intrusion I will gladly permit.
Sonny Harmon is an educator at Georgia Military College. Visit his blog at http://sharmon09.blogspot.com.