Monday, August 9, 2010


This is where it gets personal, folks.

Everyone assures me that eventually during my pregnancy, I will meet a little guy named Herman. Who is Herman, you ask? Herman is a hemorrhoid. I didn't really know what one was. It's the one thing EVERYONE warned me would happen (just you wait), and it never did.
Until one night.
I had a mad craving for a certain fondue restaurant. I found a coupon (which makes food taste better, if you ask me) and invited my husband out for a date. It was the first time in months that I ate until I could barely move. I whined and moaned the ENTIRE drive home, "Oooh I'm completely full of baby and food, and the baby is kicking the food. Oooooh."
I immediately stopped in the bathroom to pee when we got home. It felt so comfortable there on the john, that I picked up a magazine and read for a few minutes. I never do that, but I was secretly hoping that if I sat there I could convince my stomach to empty its contents and give me a little more room. (I'm saying all this as politely as I can...)
I stood up to walk into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks.
"What?" my husband asked.
"Hemerrhoid,"I replied.
"You got one?"
"What does one feel like?" I asked, but it came out more like pleading.
"I don't know. I think it's like something is coming out. Or hanging around," he responded.
"Oh. My. God."
I stood there staring at him, like if I stared long enough he would tell me he was sure it wasn't a Herman and we could all move on.
"Well," he finally said, "touch it. Is something there?"
I went into the other room and started sobbing. "I touched it!" I screamed. "I have one! I have a Herman! I have a huge belly, an aching back, leg cramps, sore feet, and a hemerrhoid! Babe! No! I don't want this!"
"It's fine, honey!" my husband spoke through the door. "It will probably be there for a while and then it will go away, I don't think it's a big deal."
I continued sobbing. My husband went into my drawers to get the antidote; I always kept hemerroid cream around because I saw on the Today show that it can help reduce under-eye bags (and it really does work, you should check it out). He cracked the door, handed it to me, and told me to try it. I sat there, sobbing, and "tried it." Then I walked back to the bedroom, more crying, more whining, and tried to go to sleep.
"Yeah?" I sniffled.
"Are you going to blog about this?"
"Of course I am. The people have a right to know."
I woke up 15 times in the middle of the night to pee and everytime, I grabbed the antidote. I'm not sure what the maximum usage in a 24-hour period is, but whatever it is I'm pretty sure I quadrupled it at least. This was war.
I woke up the next morning and hopped in the shower. I'd almost forgotten about Herman. He suddenly flashed across my mind like a swift right hook and I closed my eyes. Please, lord. Take Herman away.
Several minutes later I came running (well, walking at a pace faster than the slowest saunter you could possibly imagine is "running" right now) out of the bathroom in a robe screaming, "Babe! IT'S A MIRACLE!! IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!"
"What?" he shouted.
My husband remarked that that was wonderful and went back to his coffee.
I felt very good about myself the rest of the day having killed Herman in one night. And to all those threatening that Herman will return, I laugh at your threats. I have the antidote. And I know how to use it.

1 comment:

  1. I love this story! :) Thank you for blogging about it! :)