I couldn’t quite comprehend what had just been said, but lying there next to me on the bed was one light blue disposable glove and 2 oval shaped tablets – which I was told need to be inserted deep into my arse.
Let’s go back 5 hours………
I don’t dispute that childbirth is painful, yet the male equivalent which has been well documented is commonly known as ‘Kidney Stones’.
My wife – to whom I love has given birth twice and produced 3 beautiful children (for those who are struggling) we have a set of twins!.
I first experienced child birth (Kidney Stones) on the 25th June 2013, It’s a date that will forever be etched deep into my memory, this would also explain the incredible quick diagnosis that I came too at 5am during the 2nd day of our family holiday at Centre Parcs.
Even at the age of 38 – you never stop relying on your parents and I made the call – knowing he would answer (always does – I must be his favourite) the call was answered and I presented him with facts, simple and straight.
Dad – I’m fucking dying here – bastard Kidney Stones – This is the postcode, come quickly, oh and bring mum please.
The pain is continuous, unlike contractions in child-birth which come and go, Kidney Stones are relentless little fuckers – keeping the pressure on at all times, your body goes through stages of regression, the continuous passing of fluids then the emptying of the stomach. Then there is nothing left, no escape, you have two routes – pain relief and water.
Upon arrival – the two paramedics, both of whom were male immediately recognised that I was deep into male labour, you would have expected sympathy from my wife who herself has experienced childbirth – but I guess her focus at this point were the children.
The twins totally unaware of the seriousness and Teddy who quite frankly near pissed his pants with the arrival of an ambulance and the excitement that Daddy was going for a ride.
The 40 minute dash to North Cumbria University Hospital was accompanied with Gas and Air and 2 dosses of Morphine, this however did very little to numb or even reduce the pain. The fact that the hospital was called the North Cumbria UNIVERSITY hospital did fill me with fear, are they actually qualified?
At this point the pain was unforgiving and to be honest, I would have let anybody administer anything to me if it was going to reduce the pain.
This brings us back to the opening sentence, I was being asked to administer the drugs into my arse myself. Now as a 60% tax payer (yes this does exist – Google it) this was something that I was not prepared for and not willing to endure.
Upon declining the offer, this giant of a nurse with hands like a farmer took one for the team – only problem here being that this isn’t at all natural – my body tensing and doing everything it could to prevent anything from going inside my arse certainly wasn’t helping the farmer dressed as a nurse.
Nature took its course and the drugs were administered.
Even today, several days since and the pain is still present, every time I see a blue disposable glove or a farmer, my arse clenches tight.
The true heroes on that day were my parents, who quite literally dropped everything and drove the 148 miles to help support us – it was my parents who also collected me from the hospital and then drove the 148 miles home late in the early hours before returning back to work the next day.
Regardless how old you are – the love, support and knowledge that your parents are just a phone call away is so rewarding.