Love means never having to say...

..."No, I'm sorry, but I simply won't change the dressing on your ass."

There’s nothing more will put you out,
And enfrown your Happy Face,
Than when a Zit should chance to sprout
Upon your Private Place.

Do go read the

rest

. The honorable Elisson...he's a poet.

Didja ever have a ginormous abscess pop up on your lower, inner buttcheek, dangerously close to both Yes, Vagina...there IS a Santa Clause and the planet Uranus that feels much like a golf-ball sized, MOLTEN BALL OF NUCLEAR WASTE in that most delicate tissue, causing much gnashing of teeth and cussing of words and making the simple acts of sitting or walking (and sometimes simply being) not only damn near impossible, but incrediblyfuckingpainful?

And didja ever hafta ask your beloved spouse to keep you fully (and frequently) informed of size, location and appearance of said MOLTEN BALL OF NUCLEAR WASTE because no amount of bodily contortion will enable you to see said MOLTEN BALL OF NUCLEAR WASTE, either with or without the assistance of a hand-held mirror?

"Look at my butt." "Will you look at my butt again?" "Is it gettin bigger?" "What does it look like?" "Look at my butt, again....please?" "Hey...c'mon...you normally like doin this!"

And further, didja ever hafta go to the doctor, assume the most indelicate of positions whilst trying to maintain what little dignity you have left whilst said doctor stabs said MOLTEN BALL OF NUCLEAR WASTE with lidocaine, followed just a minute too soon (no, it wasn't quite numb yet) by the slicing open of said MOLTEN BALL OF NUCLEAR WASTE, ("OW! OW! OW!"...followed closely by "Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!") followed by much manual epression, ie: squeeeeeeezing of said MOLTEN BALL OF NUCLEAR WASTE, all while being berated by said doctor for not going to the emergency room (on New Year's Eve...yea, right. Happy New Year!) sooner?

And even further, didja ever hafta ask the above-mentioned most beloved spouse to perform frequent dressing changes (yea, this means using tape) to that most delicate tissue that now holds just a molten ball of nuclear waste (No caps), along with a small amount of very fine, but still...firmly attached...hair?

Aaaaand, didja ever hafta take an industrial-strength antibiotic that's notorious for it's particularly uncomfortable side-effects, the most common being diarrhea which, naturally, will only serve to make the whole above-mentioned, incredibly painful (and totally hypothetical, of course...ahem) situation topple right on over to the totally, exquisitely unbearable?

Nah. Me neither.