The Time My Brother Grew a Second Asshole

The entry today is so gross and horrifying that I’ve decided to use a picture of a cute puppy here. If you start feeling ill, just scroll back up and check out this little guy. Aww.

Things were going swimmingly for my brother up until the day his ass started to burn with the fury of a thousand suns.

A loving wife, a beautiful daughter, and a steady, well-paying acting job – all of these things were no match for an anal fistula.

Basically, if you strain too much while pooping, your anus can start to bulge where it’s not supposed to go. Given enough time, this extra pathway from your anus will reach all the way through your muscle until it reaches the outside. Suddenly, one day you wake up with an extra asshole that is inflamed, infected, and never heals since it’s constantly getting shit in it. Literal shit.

So not only do you have a painful second asshole, but because this little tract lacks the muscle control of your original sphincter, it leaks uncontrollably all the time. Every pair of underwear you own will become skid mark city, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. My brother can now fart through two separate holes.

He went to see a surgeon in Las Vegas, and was scheduled for a procedure that involves essentially coring the fistula like an apple. By removing the infected tissue, it’s hoped that the body will actually start to heal itself. The day of the surgery, my brother started weeping copiously at the thought of being violated so thoroughly. He faints at the sight of blood, so the thought of being impaled anally like a puppet was just too much to take. His heart rate spiked so high that a sedative was immediately pumped into his IV, and he remembers no more.

He woke up with his ass packed so tight with gauze that it looked like he’d been reamed by a torpedo. Everything was still numb, and my brother sucked down one of the opiate pills he had been given for pain, so all was well. But later that night began a grueling two-week span of unimaginable pain. Pissing and shitting could only be accomplished while squatting in warm water, which meant essentially bathing in your own waste after crapping in the tub.

When the gauze finally emerged, well, I’ll let my brother explain in his own words:

Turns out, it was a rolled up sheet of something gelatinous, the size of a Kleenex that unfurled into the water like a shit and blood-stained surrender flag. I got out of the tub, walked to the bedroom and passed out on the carpet.

Things weren’t getting any better, so my brother went back to the surgeon, and it was revealed that the doctor was too “conservative,” and didn’t cut the fistula all away. A cauterization (ie. sticking a hot poker up someone’s asshole) was recommended. The area was numbed slightly, then a white-hot probe was jammed up there. The room filled with the stench of burning flesh and shit. My brother begged for more anesthetic, but unfortunately, the doctor was fresh out.

The pain didn’t recede at all, and two weeks later, he was back in the surgeon’s office. This time, the doctor tried to pour acid into his anus. I’m starting to believe this guy wasn’t a doctor at all, but rather some dude with a foreign-body anal fetish. After the acid treatment, my brother was declared “cured” and shoved out into the hallway.

He still has two anuses. Doctors have said he will always have two anuses. This is just his life now.