Why didn’t my doctor warn me about this?
For decades, I have accepted as inevitable my protruding hemorrhoids. The problem began in the 80s when I was lifting heavy equipment as a TV news cameraman—and continued through three natural child births in the 90s (maybe I should have said ‘camerawoman’).
Recently I learned there was a simple procedure for ‘banding’ these little suckers, which would tie them off for good.
I told him I was rarely constipated, but I don’t think he believed me. One thing he never asked about was my urination habits.
Wanting to avoid surgery, I was talking to my sister and she said her hemorrhoids had disappeared once she started using a little seven inch stool to raise her feet while she pooped.
Further research revealed that in Asian countries where they squat over a hole the populace is virtually hemorrhoid-free, while westerners who sit like ladies have incidences of 50% or more. It turns out, when you sit upright, your posture creates a kink in the colon which inhibits the natural flow of waste.
I figured I’d try it out and she told me about the “Squatty Potty” stool, which has helped a lot of constipated people and sells for between $25–$75. I ordered one, but it hasn’t arrived yet.
In the meantime, I cured myself of those little devil hemorrhoids with a simple realization: It’s the pee, stupid! At least for me, anyway.
Call me a type-A personality if you want. I own a small business–the web site, Good News Network–and I’m always working on a to-do list a mile long. And even when I’m relaxing, enjoying a movie at home, whenever I’d go to the toilet between scenes, I was terribly impatient to get back to watching Robert Downey, Jr. So, to make the urination process go faster, I’d bear down with added pressure, especially toward the end when the drip was slowing down.
When I finally realized I was using the same muscles as people with constipation, although to affect a different outcome, so to speak, I thought this might have something to do with my decades-old problem. Patience was never my strength, but now I had powerful motivation to sit still.
For the next five days, whenever I’d go to the bathroom to pee, I’d relax, letting it come out naturally to the last, ever-so-leisurely drop. When I finally decided in the shower to check my progress, I reached down and there were no hemorrhoids – for the first time since I can remember.
It’s been two weeks and the Squatty Potty still hasn’t arrived, but I believe I have achieved a permanent cure.
I might be an idiot for never realizing my part in creating the problem, but why didn’t my doctor ask about my urination habits? He is the expert, yet he didn’t ask that simple question.
Maybe I’m the only one who has been hurrying through their time in the bathroom, eager to get back to the exciting world outside. But, just in case anyone is like me – and suffers the consequences, which include occasional ruptures of blood they burst – I thought I would write this embarrassing article, in hopes that my coming out of the (water) closet might help others.
You’re welcome. (Are you a pee-pusher? Tell me I’m not alone— in the comments, or email, or message)