Enema in my mouth


As a child, I was always proud to still have my tonsils. Especially since they were naturally oversized and shocked every doctor who saw them. And especially because my siblings didn't have theirs. Nyaa!

In high school, in my medical terminology class, I learned a bit more about tonsils and how they are sort of the immune system's advance scouts, looking for diseases Theric may foolishly be ingesting. Go tonsils!

The one downer to my tonsils has always been that they get sore and pus-filled and this seems to make me sick.

Shortly after getting married, I finally figured out that it wasn't pus down there, it was food, caught in the cavernous pores of my tonsils.

I saw an earnoseandthroat doctor about my tonsils last week to ask for help in getting my tonsils cleaned up.

He took a look down my throat, tchtched, and said those were some mighty big pores down there.

It ends up everyone's tonsils are porous, but some people's tonsil pores are little, like on the palm of their hand, and other people, like me, have crypts. Yes, crypts. That's what they're called, crypts. So when I'm swallowing food and it's being pressed past my tonsils--the TSA of my temple--chunks of hippie food are setting up camp in my crypts and festering and making me sick.

Stupid hippies.

Anyway, the good doctor had some advice for me, viz, to go to the pharmacy and buy an enema bag with a longish hose and wash my tonsils morning and night for the rest of my life.

So I went to the pharmacy. Then another. Then another. Then another.

At each of these pharmacies, all that was in stock, in the enema section, were single-serving-size enema squirt bottles. When I talked to the pharmacists about my needs, they looked at me like I--or, more accurately, my doctor--was insane. Wasn't I worried about asphyxiating myself? Drowning? Dying???

Well, yeah, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Y'know?

Finally I asked the last pharmacist where I should look next. He recommended the locally owned Burn's Pharmacy.

This pharmacist also considered selling me a straightjacket instead, but had what I needed, namely a hot water bottle with a long hose and various, frightening, white plastic attachments designed to hook into rectums, vaginas and other generally plastic-nozzle-free environments.

I use none of these attachments.

But I do hose down my throat morning and night with a minimum of death.

  • My wife says I smell better.
  • My doctor says I already show vast improvement.
  • A lifetime of happiness free of feces-smelling cheese-curd-looking food particles hopping onto my tongue at inopportune moments (so far).

Seems worth a little life-threatening hygiene, wouldn't you agree?


    1. Um, that is really, really gross. I'm even more glad now that I had mine removed once upon a time. Maybe I should share the details of my ER visit from last week, and we could see who has the grossest post involving an enema bag :)

    2. Why don't you just take them out? Seems to be less hassle.

      And I agree with foxy. That's really, really gross.

    3. .

      Well, thank you. I'm happy to be gross.

      The doc doesn't recommend removal because of the tonsils' role in keepin ght rest of the immune system up on what's happening. He also calls it highly invasive or whatever, but I'm not sure I go for that since Roald Dahl's boyhood dentist (or was it his barber?) just went in with a scalpel and cut, cut, plop, plop they were out.

      But who is Roald Dahl, anyway?

    4. Wow. That post definitely ranked up there for the wince factor. I wonder if that is where my little horrible-smelling things come from, too.

      Glad it's helping.

    5. Or you could just go with the high colonic...

    6. I think that's weird that the doc would say that, since I've been much healthier since getting mine out. But I've also known people who've had them removed as adults and it's a pretty difficult surgery to recover from.

    7. My surgery was when I was 19, and it was freaking awful. I hurt like a mother for THE longest time afterwards, had a very hard recovery, and threw up so much blood afterwards they almost made me stay the night in the hospital.

      Yes, my surgery was SAME-DAY.

      Not good, in my book.

    8. Okay, so how much water would say your douche bag holds? Cuz I'm thinkin you coulda bought a giant aspirator or a water pic

      I'm very intrigued (for my own use of course)

    9. .

      No, no, no.

      The bag does hold 2qts, but I only use about 8-10 oz of salt water a time.

      And those use way too much force. Slow and gentle is my douche bag.

    10. Next time I have a roommate taking a class on orality, I'm going to have to resurrect this post into active textual discussion.

    11. Am currently having tonsil issues...and I also have had the yucky little smelly things come out of my tonsils. It always seemed pretty disgusting, but it is SO MUCH GROSSER right now. Am scheduling a visit to the ENT, hoping the words enima and douche never see the light of day during my visit.

      Good luck to you, your pourous tonsils and, finally, to your enema bag. That's what separates us from the beasts - the ability to use tools. (I know this, because I am Monkey King Pro Tem).

    12. .

      I'm glad the monkeys finally found someone to take the job.

      You go, Tiger!