My friend called me to tell me he was bleeding from his anus.
I remember when I first saw a blood stain on a tissue paper I had used to wipe my butt. The bright red stain smeared with the shit on the white tissue signalled to me that this was a very wrong combination.
My friend said his bleeding was profuse. He was scared that all his days of fucking men had caught up with him.
Since I hadn’t sexed any man, I felt his fears were unwarranted. Or, at best, misplaced.
I noticed it happened to me whenever I ate foods seasoned with white pepper. My fear for what the blood-shit-smeared-on-tissue meant led me to do – extensive – research on the issue. It turned out, being sexed by men had nothing to do with it.
We joked about how he had officially turned into a woman and needed a sanitary pad. But, it was a serious matter. He had woken up to see his bed sheet stained with blood. There was no pain, just a large irregular circle of blood stained on his bed and his boxer.
His mother had walked into his room. He had died. He didn’t understand how he was still standing. She mumbled something. But, he couldn’t get himself to respond. He was looking at her. The top of his head felt tingly, faint and empty. It seemed she didn’t notice. Her eyes had gone straight to his wardrobe where she had pulled something and was out faster than she came. The tingly feeling in his head died down and his heart beat returned to normal. He collapsed on his bed, heaving the air that had returned to the room. It occurred to him to change the sheets. Wash it. If needed, burn it.
“You know you have to see a doctor, right?” I said.
“Are you crazy?” He yelled. “I would rather die.”
“That would be nice. I’m sure your mother would be more than happy to bury you.”
“Look.” He said. “Your sarcasm is not what i need now. I need advice on how to treat this.”
They had a family doctor, and there was no way in hell, heaven or earth he was going to tell “that man” about his bleeding ass – his mother would, then, find out and his life would be over.
“Then, see another doctor” I said.
“Ok, oh. Stay there and let your blood drain and finish from your butt” I said. “I’m sure that your house girl will find joy in mopping it off your room floor”
“Oh God, you don’t understand! What will the doctor think of me? How will i even tell him what I have been doing?”
It was clear he didn’t want to be judged. He failed to see that, now, he only judged himself and feared the world would do so as well.
We agreed to meet a doctor. I would go with him.
He came out of the doctor’s office smiling.
“He didn’t even ask me about all does things sef.” he said. “He only recommended these drugs, said i should increase my intake of water and i should increase the amount of fibre in my meals”
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