I Want My Poop TV

"One man. One nozzle. Our own Mike Connor seeks out colonic therapy and ends up doing a little house cleaning.

By Mike Connor

NOTICE ANYTHING different about me? I've recently received my first colonic. It was quite an experience--one that must be related with the utmost care and consideration for the three parties involved. To wit, the colon hydrotherapist Jane Duryea, myself and, of course, my tender bunghole.

For those of you unfamiliar with the process, the colonic is a therapeutic procedure designed to remove accumulated toxins from the colon by flushing it with pure, filtered water. Enthusiasts of the procedure cite a general feeling of well-being, and freedom from fatigue, headaches, depression, gas, constipation, and skin and weight problems as benefits of colon cleansing.

Of course, if the process consisted of merely ingesting a pill, rather than anal intrusion, it might be more popular. But considering the modern American diet, it's no wonder that the road back to health is not as smooth as we'd like it to be. I decided to take the road less traveled and experience colon cleansing firsthand.

As I rode my bike along West Cliff toward Duryea's home on the West Side, I got a call on my cell phone. "Mike? It's Jane. Are you on your way?" she asked with a tinge of motherly reproval--I had missed my last appointment. But minutes later I arrived right on time. Corn, grapes and all manner of flowers grow in her wild yet kempt front yard. Inside her house, she has a cozy, softly lit room devoted entirely to her work. Duryea is a petite woman with curly hair, piercing eyes and a big, warm smile. I was more than a bit nervous and said so, but she assured me that I had nothing to worry about.

A couch and a small gurneylike bed filled most of the room, along with a couple of bookcases and a small heater. Next to the bed was a panel attached to the wall, with various valves and gauges in front and tubes and pipes connected to it in the back. There is a clear tube lit with fluorescent back-lighting that Duryea joking refers to as "Poop TV."

"Some people don't want to look," she said, "and it's psychologically telling: Some people can't deal with their own shit," meaning of course that they can't deal with the past.

We Can Work It Out

I had already received an orientation during my previous visit, so after exchanging a few pleasantries, I adjourned to the restroom. I was more than a bit surprised to find the walls completely covered in postcards of people's backsides. I panicked a bit--what was I doing? And who was this lady? Maybe she had some weird ass fetish and I was playing right into her hands. A plaque asked, "What's the difference between and anus and an asshole?" and then answered, "You can't hug an anus." I calmed down, realizing it was all a joke, and walked back to the room.

Naked from the waste down except for my trusty lucky socks, I climbed aboard the bed, where she threw a warm sarong over my lower half. Duryea explained to me that people have between 4 and 40 pounds of plaque in their intestines, and showed me pictures of what it looks like. Black snakes, and big ones at that. "They say that John Wayne had 60 pounds of plaque when he died. He was a big steak eater, and drank a lot too."

OK, now I was interested. No 40 pounds of intestinal gunk for me, thank you very much. She went on to explain how the process works. She would insert a tube called a speculum into my anus using a conical plunger. Then the plunger is removed and replaced by two tubes--an inflow and outflow--connecting the colonic machine to the speculum. Thus connected, Duryea would then fill up my large intestine with warm water, and also drain it out. This process of filling and flushing is repeated for about a half an hour. "It's not like I have a scouring pad in there" she joked. "What I can do is loosen impacted material so that it works itself out."

She had me lie on my left side, applied some surgical lube and explained to me about the three anal states. And no, we're not talking about Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi.

"A lot of people walk around with their anuses all clenched up," she said, making a fist for emphasis. "But I need you to just relax." I was trying extra hard to free my mind, hoping that in true P-Funk style my ass would follow, when she asked, "Have you ever had an enema?" I hadn't. "I always ask people that, because they know what it feels like, to be penetrated."

Ay, there's the rub: to be penetrated. My brain reeled at the thought. I tried to relax and console myself, thinking that the millions of people who enjoy anal sex can't be wrong. But of course this wasn't sex. It was a plastic speculum about an inch in diameter, and after Duryea had me take a deep breath, it was going up my ass.

Then, it happened. For about two seconds, I knew nothing but the sensation of anal intrusion. My eyes snapped tightly shut, and then after a moment, the worst was over. Suddenly, a thought hit me: When I walked in the door, I had been a reporter. Now I was a reporter with a tube up my butt.

Duryea was very compassionate, and reminded me a bit of Dr. Doolittle when she interpreted my body's response to the treatment: "Your anus is saying, 'Whoa, what's going on here?'" I sympathized with it, but there was no going back now.

For the next half hour, she repeatedly filled and flushed my colon with water. The plastic tube up my butt felt a lot like a plastic tube up my butt, which is to say it was unpleasant, but not painful. There wasn't much on Poop TV, but I think we were tuned into the Cartoon Network because I saw the Tasmanian Devil whiz across the screen from time to time. Duryea entertained me with anecdotes and various health factoids, and before I knew it, it was time for me to release.

I won't get into any more messy details than I already have, except to say that it certainly worked. After about 15 minutes, Duryea asked "Are you alive in there?"

"Yeah, I'm just finishing up!" I yelled, lying through my teeth since I felt like I was going to be partying for hours at the elimination disco.

Now That I'm Clean

I was a little tender for the rest of the day. To be honest, I haven't noticed any difference per se in the mystical workings of my digestive system, but I think it's important to note here that Duryea said I was a "good eliminator" to begin with.

Later on that night, I turned on the TV and huddled on the couch with some leftover birthday cake, hoping it wouldn't hurt on the way out. The digestive system is really amazing, when you think about it. It's like this master craftsman that takes pretty much anything edible--whether it's a cheeseburger, or filet mignon, or a cornucopia of fruit--and it turns it into poop. In its way, it's very egalitarian. Probably some day, at the final frontier of modern health science, we'll be able to tweak this amazing machine via genetic alteration so that people will be pooping useful textiles, like curtains, or flashlights, or lug nuts.

In the meantime, I for one don't want to end up like the Duke, with a gut full of true grit. We gotta keep our digestive systems running smoothly, so remember to eat your colon-friendly fruits and vegetables. Duryea made it easy for me to understand: "Your body is like a car--the better you treat it, the longer it's going to last." And sometimes, you gotta get the oil changed."

_______
"Two percent of the population think; three percent of the population think they think, and 95 percent of the population would rather die than think."

I, for one, believe in colonics. I go on a regular basis to a trained Russian doctor for a year.In Russia, colonics are used to treat all ailments.

After the insertion, which is the most unpleasant part, all is easy.

She suggested that one "pairs" sessions-meaning two in a row, separately by a week. Try it, the second one usually produces SPECTACULAR results, and I am a regular guy and a healthy eater.

Also, it is amazing the amount of gas that is trapped inside us.