A couple of weeks ago, I was booked in by the quack for a Barium Enema to check out a lower abdomen pain I've been having.
Before I go on, just a word of warning. If your quack ever books you in for one of these, turn around and run like you've never run before and don't look back.It's licensed torture under the guise of a medical procedure.
Any way, I wasn't allowed to eat for two days and on the first day at 12 noon, I had to take a satchet of system cleaner. I wasn't too sure what the effects of that would be and there were no warnings of any sort on the package or instruction sheet I got from the hospital. By 1.30pm things felt pretty good, nothing adverse was taking place and having taken two days sick leave, the weather was ideal for a ride. You know what's going to happen, right?
I look in the garage and there she is. My nice clean Blue and white GSX1400just waiting for me to get a leg over and have a blast. The temptation was just too much. I throw my leather pants on, boots and jacket, jam on the lid and hit the road for a quick 40 minute jaunt through some of my favourite twisties. Living in the country near the city, has it's advantages. Straight into the twisties from my driveway and over the range.
Well, I felt pretty good, tossing the bike through well known corners, enjoying the ride. I think about going further until a little rumble occurs in the lower part of my torso giving me an inkling that maybe things are'nt quite too good down there.
It passes but then; you know the feeling you get when you have a bad stomach ache and the squits? (trots for the uninitiated) You get all hot and sweaty and you just have to go, everything hurts and you wish you could curl up and die quietly in a corner somewhere.
Well, I get a major signal that something I don't want to happen right now is going to. It hurts like hell and it puts a whole new meaning on clenching your seat with your arse.
I'm like 20 minutes at least from home, if I take the real twisty shortcut. Please folks. Don't try this at home. This clip was produced by a professional rider.
A prompt u-turn is executed, there will be no hanging off the seat through the corners as that part of the bike just happens to be plugging the dam waiting to bust.
I'm racing through the gears through territory that is frequented by the local constabulary and if I come across one, well, they are just going to have to get stuffed. I'm on a mission. Get home to that porcelain bowl as fast as you can mate. The morbid thought of hosing out my lovely leathers goes through my mind.
I'm gunning it out of the corners, front tyre chirping under heavy braking. Over 200kmh on the short straights. Go ya bugger, go. Another wave of nausea shakes my poor old body, I'm sweating, my guts is in agony and I feel like my arse is a shot gun ready to go off. Faster faster. Talk about madness. Who came up with this stupid idea of going for a ride after taking a full blown laxative.
It was a fast, painful, dangerous, horrendous ride home. I go airborne on the railway crossing down the bottom of the hill where I live. I pull into my road and then the driveway, stand gets flicked out, rip the keys out of the ignition, frantically fumble for the house key, hit house alarm button, racing down the corridor, tugging madly at my gloves and helmet. Enter the bathroom with my leathers around my knees only to find I can't drop them enough with my boots on.
Only just made it by milleseconds. Sand blasting the porcelain takes on a whole new meaning. Just as well we have a smallish toilet lid or I'd be repainting the bathroom. A flock of doves descends into the bowl and it went on for ever.
My first comment to the nurse at hospital the next day:
When you get people to take one of these sachets, do you think it might be a good idea to advise them to stay very close to the toilet until the action is over???
She just smiled. I wonder why?
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Originally Posted by skidmark
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