Ouch!

An Inspiring Story of Endurance. Or Something.

Photo by Tao Yuan on Unsplash. Nice work, Tao!

EVER SINCE I was a teenager, I’ve had to deal with boils (or carbuncles or infected hairs or whatever). It’s something I inherited from my old man, along with heavy smoking.

They haven’t popped up that frequently since I got sober sixteen months ago. But this latest unwelcome addition to my body was determined to make up for lost time. It decided to call my upper right inner butt cheek home. Way too close to my asshole.

I didn’t notice until it was the size of a golf ball and it made my entire body hurt, including parts I was not previously aware of. If I’d had my driver, I would have taken a big ol’ swing at it. Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t golf.

While spending some quality time with my mother, she asked why I had my entire ass hanging off the couch and my legs up in the air like I was waiting for the gynecologist to begin his examination. I did not have an answer. Oddly, she didn’t ask why I was crying. I know the woman loves me.

Over the years, I’d been told by medical professionals everything from “Oooh, lemme slice that baby open!” (nearly every Army Physician’s Assistant I dealt with during my celebrated military career) to “Oh, there’s nothing you can do about those things” (The Worst Dermatologist of All Times).

After four or five days of not being able to find what would pass for a comfortable sitting position, I caved. I went in the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, turned the water on as hot as it would let itself go, and got to applying even more pain to my posterior.

As soon as I bandaged the Ouch, the cascade of seep ensued. Any attempt to describe the unrecognizable reek that followed would be a slap in the face to the Ouch, who fought fearlessly to finish me off. Let me just say that if I rolled around in dog shit in the backyard, it would have been an improvement.

And now I know I can survive anything. Until the next thing.