Monday 1 October 2012

What's the etiquette on having a crap in front of someone?

I don’t like colonics. Never have.  Took my first one purely in the name of research because I figured I couldn’t slate something I’d never tried. 
‘You’ll love it,’ said my pal Sam. ‘You’ll feel great afterwards, all clean and glowing and energetic.’
So I duly went and had the crap taken out of me by somebody in Mayfair, if I recall, and it was deeply unpleasant and I felt like…well, crap afterwards.

But it’s an intrinsic part of the detox process here at Ti Sana so…when in Rome… (or rather when not far from Milan).  But still, I asked, why?  And Erica, who owns the place, said that it’s just the most effective way to irrigate the colon.  But, I said, why does the colon need irrigating in the first place?  Surely, if you eat the right stuff – enough fibre and so on – your colon will cleanse and irrigate itself quite happily alone.  And what about all the beneficial bacteria that you’re flushing away?  She replied that those get replaced.  Which always seems a bit bonkers to me – why take something away only to put it back?  And then again, the other thing that bothers me is the whole ‘squeaky clean’ aspect.  You know, a lot of people become addicted to colonics, enemas, wotnot – because they don’t like the idea of going round with a colon full of shit inside them.  But hey, that’s what we are, right?  That’s the divine joke, the great leveler.

We may be gorgeous as anything on the outside but inside, we’re all shit.  J

Anyhow.  Erica promised that their system was different.  That I’d love it.  Hey, it even had a nice name:  The Angel of Water.  And, who knows, maybe there's something in me that baulks at letting go, at letting it all...hang out. Maybe it's psychological shit.

So there we were, Lizzie and I, sitting in the medical spa reception, looking sideways at one another.
‘I’m really not sure about this,’ said Lizzie.
‘Me neither,’ said I.
'I've never had one before,' said Lizzie.
'Not even an enema?' She shook her head.  'A suppository?' She shook her head dolefully. 'I've never had anything stuck up my bum.'  

Before we could bolt, Virginia came out and said briskly, ‘Right then. You (pointing at me) don’t like colonics and you (pointing at Lizzie) have never had one.  So let’s go!’
We looked alarmed. ‘Together?’ We said, pretty much in tandem.
But no.  Turns out this is all very discrete.  You have your own room and your very own Angel of Water – a kind of giant couch-cum-lavatory.  ‘The rectal nozzle is completely new…look,’ said Virginia, unwrapping a plastic package and waving the thing around.  Well, there’s a relief…anyone for a second-hand rectal nozzle?  

She plugged it in.  No! Not to my arse!  To the relevant pipe on the machine.  Then she stuck some lube on the other end and said, 'All you have to do is sit yourself down and slide it in.’
The rest of the instructions kinda passed me by really so, when she left the room, I sort of fumbled around and hoped for the best.

To be honest, it was a bit like a gynae exam – feet not quite up in stirrups but not far off, with unspeakable things going on down below.  The water started and a few minutes passed.  Ow…ouch…ahhhh…eeee….aaaghhhhhhhhh.  Hellfire, this was torture. I felt like my guts were on fire.  Shit, shit, shit.  Except…

I pushed the panic button and Virginia appeared, all calm reassurance. ‘Everything okay?’
Of course not! I screamed – to myself (so British).  ‘Should it really hurt this much?’  I said, to Virginia, my face contorted.
‘Have you evacuated?’
‘No. Not yet.’
She smiled.  She SMILED, for pity's sake.  And told me to just ‘let it all go.’ 

Holy cow.  It’s the weirdest feeling; basically sitting on a couch having a crap every so often.  And, what’s more, you get to watch it cos they kindly position a mirror so you can see what’s coming out through the tube.  Ruddy hell, it was like human geology, going back through the strata.  I could shit you a rainbow – no kidding.  It was fascinating…to a point and then it just got a bit boring. Plinky plonk music and the permanent swish swish swish of the water.  The same old crap basically.

Virginia came in every so often to check on progress, constituting another point of etiquette one never thinks about in normal life.  Do you just carry on merrily crapping when someone’s in the same room?  Or do you politely pause?
Anyhow, eventually it was over and I removed my nozzle with great relief and had a shower.

‘You enjoyed it, yes?’ Virginia beamed.
‘Er…’  Let’s not push it, huh?

A bit later I met Lizzie and we swapped notes.  Yup, she liked it as little as I did.  Yes, she’d held it in every time Virginia came in (so it’s not just me, but maybe it’s just British?). No, she didn’t have multi-coloured crap, including day-glo green.  That was all mine.

So, there you have it.  The Angel of Water… fully explained…nothing held back. No bullshit. 

How do I feel?  Well, to be truthful, right now I feel like seven shades of...yeah, you got it.  But tomorrow?  I'll keep you posted.  


Zoë said...

having had a barium enema and a colonoscopy there is absolutely no way you would get me to try this.

Exmoorjane said...

@Zoe - yup, I hear you. Erik had those and said they were the worst torture going. At least with this you don't have to hold it all in...

Sessha Batto said...

Not the most enjoyable experience, true - although this sounded comfy compared to some. But it is nice to clear the pipes every once in a while ;)

Expat mum said...

Like the "flush" diets, I always think our bodies (for the most part) do all the work for us. If your liver, kidneys and colon are working, and you're not eating too much rubbish, do you really need all this? I'm going to keep working on the assumption that we don't!!!

Diane Nelson said...

No. Just. No.

Tee said...

Ew. And no way.

In that order.

You brave, brave woman.

teresa said...

why does this intrigue me! would I try it ...maybe...

Rob-bear said...

Shitty post if ever there were one.

Convinces me that I'm not in line for this kind of treatment.

Fennie said...

Fascinating! I once read an article by someone who, like you, was trying these things for the first time and he reported that people regularly find things they have swallowed long since, like marbles or pennies or teeth which get stuck. Well, right, pull the other one. But he wanted us to believe that he found his pet little glass marble, all sparkly blue that he had been sucking in the playground and then lost when someone hit him on the back. Monroe used to think it made you look slimmer; which of course must be true. And the French used to advise sticking the cure up the rear so as not to damage the stomach with the pills - a thought that I always associate with Monet and all that fin de siècle decadence. Come to think of it whatever happened to our own fin de siècle?

Anonymous said...

Thank you for making me laugh out loud. I so needed that, (the laugh not the colonic) though I have often wondered if one would make me a new woman - i think perhaps no :)

Jackie Buxton said...

Ha ha ha! Soooo funny, thanks for putting yourself through all that to give us a giggle. It reminded me of childbirth. I told my midwife of a sister of my fear of pooing on the bed, I believe I called it, being so much worse than any concerns about pain. She just smiled and say, oh for goodness sake, everyone does it. And that was meant to make me feel better? She also told me they just discretely dispose of it. I wondered what they did about the smell?

String said...

Some time back I did the Arise and Shine cleanse for 7-10 days - you have to give yourself an enema twice a day - so after about a week of well, ropes of matter coming out (they state the first time one can experience up to 40 feet or yards or something) - I was at the end (literally) and I got a taste in my mouth of a medication I used to take as a teenager, one I had forgotten was part of my diet. Obviously it was embedded and released as I cleared out...amazing.