Think this one's been covered...
But its time for a pilonidal parable. LENGTH. SUCH LENGTH.

Aged about 16, I was working in a butchery part time when I found sitting down had started to become rather painful. Thinking I'd merely bruised my fundament during some drunken idiocy, I ignored it to the point where it was becoming pretty sore to walk, stand up, or do basically anything. So off to the hospital I went, fucing work off in the process (it was Christmas time, and butcherys are busy places. I seem to recall the phrase 'I don't care if your fucking arse has fallen off get in here you workshy CUNT!' being employed rather redundantly). Pain relief came via a small Vittel water bottle full of tequila. I don't like tequila anymore.

So, in the waiting room, sort of shuffling from one foot to the other and intermittently swearing quietly, I was seen by a lovely nurse who felt the appropriate area, diagnosing instantly that I had an abscess just at the top of my arsecrack, very common apparently. I thought it was more down to being a bit of a soap-dodging skutter, but there you go. She advised that this could be treated with some antibiotics, and bumbled off to get me a prescription. 'Top,' thought I- 'I'll be home in time to go out and get bladdered at this rate!' Alas, no.

Whilst waiting, lying on my side with keks round ankles, facing away from the door, I heard someone enter the room. 'So, whut seems to be th' trabble?' came this guttural, male, South African voice. 'I've got an abcess on my backside mate' quoth I, in remarkably good form considering. 'I'll be the judge of that young man, let me take a look.' 'But the other nurse...' was about as far as I got before this man's finger touched my special place in a rather more friendly way than I was prepared for. 'IT'S NOT IN THERE!' I sweated out, more surprised than anything else- 'Ah, I see, it's just up here, you could have said you know!'. Fucking idiot just wanted to finger me.

Anyway, long stoy as outlined above, it went away, with only the odd twinge when sitting down. Sorted? NO. Fast forward 8 years, and a lovely svelte mid-20's Gertcha is merrily zooming around much as before, waving guitars at all and sundry and drinking cider, still dodging ze soap. Suddenly it became painful to sit down again, this time proper, agonizing pain. Tequila wouldn't begin to tackle this fucker, it was time for some doctor action. At first he spotted nothing, but then intoned that there was deep abcess under the surface of my skin, which would probably require an operation. One more totally sleepless night of sweating profusely and annoying the missus, and I trudged off to the MRI, cursing and wailing like, basically, a proper sick bell-end.

I do not like this hospital. I was strapped into a chair and wheeled about the place for ages, and had to wait 3 days to been seen to. Now fair enough, I realise the surgical team prioritise things accordingly, and that my bottom is less important than someone's life, but the chap opposite me had exactly the same problem, came in a day later, and was seen first. Why? Because he kept shitting himself and crying, then got his extended family to come in and stare at people. Gah. Once I had been seen, I needed a dressing before I could fuck off home. It doesn't take 5 hours to sort that out. I'm not a nurse, but I know this. I know this from finding the two nurses on duty playing FUCKING CARDS at their desk. CUNTS. Again, not bitter, realise its a hard job etc but Jesus guys, it took 10 minutes then I was hobbling off into the sunset (well, as it happended, pissing rain, beaut).

Every day after the surgery I had to go up to the walk in centre and get my bum seen to by an array of nurses, to clean and change me like a massive hairy baby that leaks pus. I wouldn't mind but the fucker won't go away! All last week its been building up, just yesterday I sat down for a shite and my arsecrack exploded into a green and red pussy mess, leaking stuff that smelled like shit squared, and this was 2 fucking years ago!

I'm rambling. But it hurt. And at one point during my 3 days nil-by-mouth someone came over with a plate of shepherd's pie and chips for the bloke who'd been in my bed previously. I would have rimmed my dad for that food.
(Gertcha_cowson NAH MATE, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 10:30, Reply)