I Fell Into a Burning Ring of Fire

As regular readers know, I have colitis, and am under a miraculous colo-rectal doctor's care.   He literally saved my life.    He was the only one in a four state area who did a surgery I *had* to have.    He's amazing.    If you have problems that need to be remedied, email me and I'll send you his name and number.    Love that man.   Forever.

Enough with the gushing.

The other day, I had a check-up appointment with him.   Now being a colo-rectal doctor, you would think that his office would have more bathrooms than Seattle has Starbucks.

Au contraire.

There is one in the waiting room and about fifty gazillion in the back.  

Since I was early for my appointment, I waited for the one to empty out and finally went in to take care of business.  There, sitting on the back of the toilet, was the sweetest thing.    A container of wipes for the patients.

So stinkin' kind.

See?  That why I love that doctor.  Always thinking about his poor patients who are coming in with a myriad of messy, nasty issues.  I grabbed a couple and wiped.

Sweet baby Jesus in a celestial bassinet being rocked by the angels.

Not butt wipes.  

Cleaning wipes.

Cleaning wipes soaked in battery acid and rinsed with the devil's tears.

I literally squealed and jumped off the toilet.  Tears began to run down my face as I danced from foot to foot with my pants around my ankles and fanned my ass with my hand.   I grabbed some of those lovely brown paper sacks disguised as paper towels, wetted them down, and pressed them against my flaming flesh.  

Mother. Of. Pearl.

I went down, down, down and the flames went higher.     The pain actually intensified and shifted to my girlie pieces.
 
How can that be?

I heard my name being called out in the waiting room.

"Just a minute!" I choked out in a strangled voice.

I wet toilet paper this time and dabbed.  And dabbed.  And dabbed.   And dabbed some more.

The pain lessened a bit, though I could still hear my heart pounding in my ears.

I sat there on the toilet for a minute and took deep, cleansing Lamaze breaths.  You know the ones they tell you will work when you're in labor and trying to push out a watermelon?  Those breaths they swear will help, but totally don't?

Newflash...those breathing techniques don't work when you dip your ass and hoo-ha into flaming chemical lava, either.

I grabbed the tub of wipes and looked closer.

Yeah...  Thanks for the warning.