Last month, we posted this story about Leon’s face mask accident, which left him in A&E for 11 hours. It had a lot of hits, leading us to believe that although you may like our musical comedy, you prefer seeing us getting hurt. So here’s a story from a few years ago, regarding another trip to A&E for poor Leon (warning: story involves serious penis pain):
“I suffer from kidney stones. “Suffer” is the correct word; I’ve never known pain like it when one of those tiny, spiky fuckers gets lodged in your ureter. It is a pain only comparable to getting one lodged in your urethra, which usually happens 3 or 4 days later.
Today, at approximately 10am, whilst at work, I felt the sudden & reasonably traumatic pain of a kidney stone lodging in my left ureter. An hour later, the pain was such that I was having difficulty breathing. An online self-help site recommended “bumping” up & down on a toilet seat (as so not to damage my testicles, thoughtfully), so I tried this. It hurt. I looked & felt stupid. So I stopped.
Six hours later, the pain had not subsided. This is not normal. Normally, the pain is there for an hour or so, then the pressure of the piss above the stone forces it further down the pipe. Not so this time; the piss was in a queue, & it wasn’t getting out. In fact, I’ve only pissed four times today (I normally piss four times before I leave the house) – imagine a day’s worth of piss trapped in your kidney. It hurts. My boss decided she’d seen quite enough of me turning pale & grunting in what she considered to be a pseudo-sexual way, & sent me home. I don’t even remember making the decision to go to A&E instead, I just kind of drove myself there without thinking. It was here that the fun really began –
- I arrived at 4:10. I hobbled to the front desk, & managed to get the words “Leon Camfield”, “kidney stone”, “lodged”, & “very painful” out. Within 5 minutes, the following announcement was made, at full volume, across a crowded A&E -
“Mr Camfield, we have a suppository painkiller for you”
Now, I’ve always preferred a girlfriend who enjoys anal sex, but I’ve always been giver, not a taker, if one catches my drift. But I digress –
- A nurse held out a cardboard tray for me. On it was a piece of gauze, on top of which was a bullet-sized pill, a dollop of lube & a rubber glove. It suddenly occurred to me that I was expected to administer my own medicine. Now, I pay my taxes, surely my NI contributions extend to having a nurse poke a painkiller up my arse. But no – this is a job for Leon, apparently. Having never done this before, I went to pick up the pill.
“You’ll need the glove, Mr Camfield”
Now, I don’t use the glove when I wipe my arse. I don’t use the glove when pulling stray hairs out of my buttock cleft. Hell – I don’t use the glove when performing the above-mentioned rites with open-minded ladies. But apparently, it is not The Done Thing to shove painkillers up your arse for the first time without a layer of latex between finger & sphincter, & so on goes the glove. I bend over, trying to relax, & am just about to stick this bullet in my anus, when I catch my eye in the mirror. Truly, a new low has been reached. As I push the suppository in, I’m both repulsed & fascinated by how readily my arse sucks it up, like you would suck up a strand of spaghetti, if you will. I was expecting my arse to try & reject it, or at least leave it sticking halfway out. I briefly wonder if this makes me gay. Probably not. 20 minutes after doing this, the positive benefits of the painkiller kick in, & I’m a new man. This stuff is awesome! I honestly feel like I could take a jumbo cock up the arse & not feel a thing.
After some prodding & poking by a blonde, Scandinavian nurse (she wasn’t fit, or particularly easy to understand), I’m sent for x-rays. As it’s my kidneys they need to see, clothes are surplus to requirements here, but instead of letting me strip to my boxers, they force me into 2 backless gowns (one put on backwards so nobody can see my bum). Then a urologist comes to see me, & for the first time today I’m concerned. I’ve been getting kidney stones all my adult life, why am I wasting this qualified man’s time? He takes blood & piss, & asks me to wait.
My next low – the painkillers start to wear off. The pain is getting quite intense, & in a moment of weakness, I accidentally fart. The fart is not entirely gaseous. Rushing to the toilet, I pull down my trousers to find I’ve farted out a combination of air, lube & melted painkiller. Unpleasant. I then find there is no toilet paper. I recant this tale to a young male nurse who countered, “We’ve all been there, mate”.
3 hours into my trip to A&E, & I see the urologist again, & he tells me that I’m turning yellow. Now, my favourite TV show is undoubtedly The Simpsons, but I have no intention of looking like them, so I’m worried. He gibbers something to me about my liver readings being slightly high, inserts a venlon into my arm, then he once more gets me to wait outside. Then the male nurse comes & takes me to a ward. Alarm bells are now ringing, & rightly so – they want to keep me in. A million thoughts go through my head. It’s only a kidney stone. I haven’t eaten since 12pm. I’m parked on single yellows. But before I know it, I’ve got my very own non-charity wristband & a bed with 3 other people; a man in his 80’s who doesn’t appear to know where he is, a similarly-aged fellow whose only clue to not being dead is his snoring. The 3rd occupant is an attractive young thing who is covered in wires, heart monitors & visitors.
Snoring Beauty wakes up; he has no idea how long he’s been in hospital, nor does he know when he’s getting out. Methinks he’s in the wrong hospital. I start to entertain the heart monitor girl, when I’m told that I’m being moved to Ward 7B. Ward 7B does not sound good; Ward 7B has Room 101-esque vibe about it. Amid fears that I’m being taken up there for rehabilitation, I start to try to convince myself that 2+2=5. Instead of the totalitarian state I was expecting, I’m put in a ward with a young man who looks like a heroin addict, & an old man with breathing apparatus on. Both are asleep. The Matron brings me water; she looks like David Ginola & sounds like Ian Paisley. This night just keeps getting weirder.
At midnight, I’m awoken by nurses bringing in a guy who has let a tonne of industrial bin land on his fingers. He sounds quite chilled, given the circumstances.
At 2am I’m awoken, Gestapo-style, by a faceless doctor who wants to know how I’m feeling. I bite back on the obvious answer of “tired & hungry”, & she links me up to a drip. It is only now that I realise that they are in fact starving me.
It’s now midday. I haven’t eaten for 23 hours. Squidge Fingers has been taken away for reconstructive surgery, & The Heroin Addict (who in fact had a swelling in his neck so big it looked like he’d swallowed a grapefruit) has been moved to a different ward; this just leaves me & The Mask. He’s not much of a talker.
My only visitor turns up; Cara is an old friend & she’s looking a whole lot better than I do. “You don’t look so good” is the uncharacteristically subtle way she greets me. On my way to the toilet (dragging my drip behind me), I look in the mirror for the first time since sticking the painkiller up my arse. I look like total shit.
At 8pm, they decide to let me out. They show me a cross-section scan of my body, & it turns out that I in fact have 3 stones inside me – a personal best. I’m asked to go back tomorrow to get some drugs which will hasten their passing, & also make me cum back into my bladder – can’t wait to try this out!
All in all, I had that venlon in my arm for 23 hours, & I was starved for 28 hours, & they didn’t really do anything to me in return. They kept me drugged, hungry, uncomfortable, cold, lonely & bored just to tell me what I already knew. In a couple of weeks, I’ll have to piss all 3 of them out – I’ll let you know how that goes…”
I can now let you know how that went – I pissed them all out within 44 hours, & it was fucking agony. Each one was the size of a piece of shingle, & because the hospital wanted to see them, I had to piss through a nylon sieve for 3 days. Oh & orgasming into my bladder? Horrific. Below is one of the stones, on a 5p piece for scale.