Stupidity interlude.

So, I was debating whether to include this or not, since it’s not disability related, but yesterday I got literally the best A+E care I have ever recieved in my life.

And it was over stupidity. Or rather, it was over using a product *exactly* as the manufacturer intended, and then my own weird biology causing problems.

The problem was, as you might have guessed, a kegel ball.

I love kegel exercisors. I find them extremely soothing and stress-relieving, as well as occassionally arousing and generally good practise for sets of muscles that don’t get much use otherwise. I have several sets of them – A silver plastic “jiggle” pair that I never use, due to them being so badly constructed (Really, a woven cord on an insertable toy? Breeding ground for infections. Use once, then relegate to being a cat toy), a weighted silicone and ABS pair which looked too much like a dead mouse for me to use, and this pair – Two glass eggs in a silicone harness, sold with the instruction that they could also be used without the harness. And, in fact, kegel exercisors where all you get is two spheres/eggs, and nothing more are pretty common. So trying them out for the first time without a harness wasn’t exactly a silly idea. And using them without the harness was, I found, a lot more comfortable and pleasant than using them with a harness. I could move around without worrying about the semi-rigid connector between them pushing them into the wrong place, or the external strap catching my external bits.  And basically, I could suck on them like they were boiled sweeties. This was good.

So, time passed and I decided to remove them. One quick “Thloop” and I’d got the first one pushed out. Waited half a minute, then tried the same trick with the second one. No luck. Reached up to look for it – Can’t find it , even with a fingertip. Try squatting, pushing, jumping, stretching, jogging up and down the stairs and phoning friends in desperation to get it out.

No luck.

Further investigation eventually finds it, stuck up around a corner and three-quarters buried inside a muscle that won’t let it out. Attempts at getting it out with two fingers just results in two dislocated fingers and a dislocated wrist.

Partner gets home, by which point I have taken enough diazepam to turn an elephant in musth into a purring kitten, and with pelnty of lube and reassurance, he tries to get it as well. He manages to make it spin in place, but not to go anywhere. We have a bit of a giggle whilst doing this for the length of two episodes of Frasier (Including him picking me up and shaking me like an errant piggy-bank) and then finally give up. It’s now midnight, and I’m off to accident and emergency at St J’s, because I know they’ve got a really good gynaecology department if everything goees tits up.

I get settled in, (Everyone is remarkably nice to me and not mocking at all, desoite the fact that I feel like the adult version of the schoolboy that’s stuck a marble up his nose and now has to get help to get it back out) and by about 1am, I meet Dr Daisy (Not her real name, but since I’ve not met her before and probably won’t again, she’s not getting included in the usual initial-only naming scheme, since that’d confuse the issue). By this point I am in a LOT of pain. Cramp is starting to set in, and my hips are variously dislocating and spasming, along with everything else. I take a few more shots of morphine, and am offered a diazepam. And then, once it’s set in, over to the room with a proper door we go. Plastic speculum, warm bowl of lube.

And Dr Daisy doesn’t even bat an eyelid when I say “Can I do this myself?”

She just happily sits and directs, telling me when she can see the ball, telling me if I need to go left or right, or push in further, or rotate the speculum to get the blade underneath the ball, or angle it slightly differently, or open it further. Every few minutes, I get her to hold the speculum still, to allow me to relax my hands and fix them. After about half an hour or so, I feel a click. She tells me to try releasing the pressure on the speculum – It doesn’t close; It’s gripped the ball! Slowly, slowly, out it comes. She looks about as delighted as I feel. Freedom!

And that, my dears, is how you conduct a medical procedure. You trust the patient, you help them to solve the issue on their own, and you don’t dive in speculum-first and demanding things. This was a lot quicker, a lot easier, and a lot less traumatic than it could have been. And I got my ball back.

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