Dealing with hemorrhoids

Anonymous said:Is it actually possible for hemorrhoids to cause:
- more frequent and softer bowel movements
- an unpleasant, sour breath smell

Or could these be symptoms of some other underlying medical issue?

That sounds like it’s coming from something else entirely.

Thanks so much, coppermarlin14!!! I guess, maybe, one has to wonder though—when they first start forming, is there a risk they might just burst right away, or does it usually take a longer period of time before they actually rupture?

So, I’ve been on the Donat for about three weeks now, and honestly, I’m hitting the restroom regularly with much softer stools. Looking back, I’m pretty convinced my issues were actually triggered by the toilet paper itself; lately, I won't even bother going unless there's a bidet available. It wasn't even like I had severe hemorrhoids per se, it was just this intense burning sensation after using the bathroom—usually hitting me about 5 or 6 hours later. Naturally, things would look red and inflamed or sometimes a bit blue (just a milder version of the issue), and there were mornings where I’d wake up feeling like my backside was literally on fire. Everything feels way better now, though; I don't find myself constantly checking Factu anymore, I just apply a little bit of baby ointment and call it a day!

Maybe this is a stupid question, but when hemorrhoids hurt, where does the pain actually originate? Is it somewhere internal or just the anus itself? I'm asking because I started feeling some discomfort down there today; whenever I sit down or try to stand up, there’s this sharp, nasty shooting pain. I'm torn between whether it's hemorrhoids or my bladder.

I see everyone here posting about hemorrhoids and laser surgery, and honestly, I’ve read some absolute nonsense online—from claims that the laser is completely painless to stories about people hopping straight into an Uber and driving home immediately after the procedure. Well, I was discharged from the hospital just two days ago, so let me give you the actual breakdown of how it went down. Before the surgery, I had to go out and pick up the so-called "laser" equipment, which is actually a stapler (PPHO3), and it cost me $1100. After getting my blood drawn, I met with the anesthesiologist because this whole thing is done under local anesthesia, meaning they basically numb your entire lower half. The next day, I checked in with the doctor, who told me to swing by the hospital in the afternoon since that's when they were scheduled to operate on me. When I arrived, the staff was great; they spent a couple of hours prepping me, including inserting a tube so I could clear things out, and then I was out like a light. The morning of the surgery, I was given a pill and then wheeled into the OR. I was feeling pretty anxious, but I remember them giving me an injection in my spine, and then my lower body just started drifting away. They laid me on the table, strapped my legs down like I was in labor, and I drifted off. I woke up about two hours later in my room. At first, there was zero pain, but also zero sensation anywhere below the waist. After a while, the anesthesia started wearing off, and yeah, the pain started creeping in. I'm not going to sugarcoat it: it hurts. It hurts quite a bit. But look, it's nothing you can't handle. And don't feel bad about asking for Voltaren injections—seriously, don't suffer in silence. If you feel it coming on, ask for the meds, otherwise, you aren't getting any sleep. Also, don't try to stand up too much right away; if you spend too much time on your feet, you might end up with a massive headache from the anesthesia, which can linger for a few days. The worst part for me? The night after the surgery. Having that tampon removed from... well, you know... takes maybe two seconds, but holy crap, does it sting. Then, the next day, they give you fluids to drink to help get things moving so you can use the restroom. I stayed in the hospital for two days, and those two days were rough. It wasn't unbearable, but like I said, ask for that Voltaren injection (thank God for modern medicine). Now that I've been home for two days, I've had to use the bathroom twice. It still hurts, though significantly less now. The worst part is definitely when you're actually passing anything. Since I don't have a nurse hovering over me with more injections, I've been managing with some Dolokain cream (an anesthetic) and Ketonal, which helps dull everything down. The worst of it is behind me, and things are looking up. Don't be terrified to go in for surgery. Anyone dealing with these damn hemorrhoids knows exactly how much they can wreck your life for several days. I won't lie—having someone poking around back there isn't exactly a walk in the park, but it's definitely not the "one day and you're done" fairy tale some people claim it is. My friends and I know I finally got my life back.

@Larry Mitchell
Glad you took the time to crunch those numbers and share what you went through with us.
Which hospital did you go to for that?

Larry Mitchell3 said:I SEE EVERYONE POSTING ABOUT HEMORRHOIDS AND LASER SURGERY, BUT I’VE READ EVERYTHING FROM "THE LASER IS PAINLESS" TO "I JUST SAT IN MY CAR RIGHT AFTER SURGERY AND DROVE HOME." MAN, THAT'S NOT EVEN CLOSE. BEFORE THE PROCEDURE, I HAD TO GO OUT AND BUY THIS SO-CALLED LASER TOOL—A STAPLER (PPHO3)—WHICH COST ME $1100. THEN I WENT IN, HAD BLOOD TAKEN, AND MET THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST. THEY INSERTED A TUBE, GAVE ME AN INJECTION IN THE HIP, AND STARTED NUMBING MY LOWER BODY. THEY PUT ME ON THE TABLE, strapped my legs down just like they do for pregnant women, and then I drifted off. I woke up two hours later in my room feeling absolutely nothing—not even sensation down there. But after a while, the anesthesia started wearing off, and then the pain hit. And let me tell you, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: it hurts. A lot. Sleep is non-existent. You can barely stand up, let alone smile, because if you stay on your feet too long, you get these massive anesthesia headaches that can linger for days. The night after surgery was easily the worst part—when they pull that tampon out from your backside. It takes two seconds, but god almighty, it hurts. I’m not lying; having someone poking around back there isn't exactly pleasant either. It sure wasn't like what some people here claimed—that you're done in one day and life goes on...

Man, that doesn't sound optimistic at all. I honestly thought these were some sophisticated, nearly painless methods... I even heard some surgeon bragging about how patients go straight from the operating table to work or hopping in their cars...
Looks like they're lying to us about these "painless" surgeries!!!

Amanda Moore79 said:Maybe this is a stupid question, but when hemorrhoids hurt, where does it actually hurt? Is it somewhere inside or just the anus itself? I’m asking because something started hurting down there today; whenever I sit down or stand up, it hits me pretty hard. I’m wondering if it's hemorrhoids or my bladder.

I’d say it's just the anus. Internal hemorrhoids usually just bleed without much pain... If it feels like you're passing shards of glass when you go, then you're dealing with a rectoanal fissure (or several of them). That’s what happens when the skin cracks and leaves the nerves totally exposed to the movement of stool... and the harder the stool, the more unbearable the pain. Honestly, I don't think you have fissures because you'd definitely know if you did—trust me on that. It's probably hemorrhoids, likely external ones, and if you see fresh blood, they might be internal too...
In any case, you should really go see a proctologist...

BTW: Your username is legendary... seriously made my day, haha... Terry Gray60, haha... talking about hemorrhoids, haha...

Hey there,

So, I’ve been reading up on this topic and realized that even though I don't have typical hemorrhoid symptoms, something definitely isn't right, so I was wondering if anyone here knows anything about this or if it's actually something to worry about...
Basically, I feel this little lump between my anus and my tailbone—it's closer to the spine—and it just pops up every now and then, causing some pain or itching before eventually fading away, only to show up again later. It mostly happens once a month... right before my period starts. I mentioned it to my mom, and she joked that I was just born with a "little tail" and that it was nothing... but then she admitted she was just teasing me. Does anyone actually know anything about this "tail" thing? I honestly thought she was just pulling my leg until I heard that it might actually be a real thing, so could this lump I'm feeling be related to that? Or am I looking at something else entirely?...
Thanks,

Good afternoon, everyone.

I’m reaching out from Mexico. My father has been struggling with some pretty serious hemorrhoid issues for quite a while now.
He heard that over in the States, there are a few very specialized surgical methods for treating hemorrhoids that are incredibly successful. Apparently, one of these procedures can be completed in just a few hours, allowing the patient to head straight home as soon as it's finished.

If any of you happen to have any information or insights that might help us navigate this, please do reach out.

Thank you all in advance...🙂

P.S.

You really need to chug a ton of water. Not just because it’s healthy, but because it actually helps your digestion. Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I drank this much water.

Hey everyone. I see this thread is getting pretty intense and long. I’ve combed through all the pages and haven't found a direct answer yet, but maybe my own experience can offer some perspective. Since there's a lot to get into, I'll break this story up into a few parts.

PHASE I

I’m 30 years old, and my job basically chains me to an office chair or a car seat. No matter how you slice it, I’m sitting. I’ve already quit smoking, cut out soda, ditched coffee, and now I’m officially done with spicy and greasy food too. I play soccer; I stay active. Everything. The whole thing started about a year and a half ago when I noticed blood in the toilet for the first time—just a few drops. Everyone jumped in with their "expert" advice: they said it was just hemorrhoids, that everyone gets them, that I should watch my diet, cut back on alcohol, maybe rub some olive oil on it... yeah, right. Whatever. I don't have external hemorrhoids—you know, those painful, swollen lumps on the outside—it's just occasional bleeding. No itching, no inflammation, no pain during bowel movements. Nothing. Just a few random drops of blood after using the bathroom. It’s been inconsistent: sometimes once a week, then three times a week, then nothing for two weeks. It's always small amounts, nothing that actually messes with my day-to-day routine.

PHASE II

So, after about a year of dealing with occasional bleeding while living a totally normal life—clean diet, regular booze, nothing crazy—I caught some nasty virus toward the end of summer (around August or September). It hit me hard. Weakness, plus diarrhea hitting me four times a day, and my stool was just... dark, dark, *dark* blood. Purely soaked in it. In three days, I lost over a liter of blood without even trying. Sitting down on a toilet felt like someone had just opened a faucet. Blood was just spraying out of me. After two or three days of that constant flood, things finally settled down. The bleeding stopped, but then the paleness and weakness kicked in. After a week, just walking up to the second floor would leave me completely winded. Dizziness, exhaustion—plus, everyone kept making fun of me because I looked as pale as a ghost. My lips were basically the same color as my skin. I looked like a walking nightmare, even though I didn't actually *feel* that weak. I was still hitting the gym, going out, and drinking. After another week of getting winded just walking into my apartment, I told myself: if this isn't better by Monday, I'm seeing a doctor. And spoiler alert—it wasn't getting any better!

Phase III.

Showed up at the doctor's office at 11:00 AM. The doc doesn't even start until 2:00 PM, though they tell you to be there by 1:00. So, I hit a nearby coffee shop, grab a cup, come back, check in, and then finally get called at 5:00 PM. (Big thanks to Hebrang for this healthcare revolution, I guess). I laid out everything I told you guys before. She looks at me, pauses, and tells me she’s sending me straight to the hospital in Pula—which is an hour's drive away—for full blood work, because waiting around here would take days. I told her, "Fine, I'm going right now." She adds that she'll mark the referral as urgent so they take me immediately, and if my blood counts are bad, they might actually admit me. Honestly, she looked pretty spooked when she saw me, but she handled it like a pro. Respect. Fast forward: I roll into the ER in Pula around 11:00 PM. Wait around until midnight. Then, they finally call my name. I walk in to see the on-call doctor, who does a manual exam and tells me it’s nothing like hemorrhoids. That’s when the panic really sets in. Got my blood drawn and waited for the results. Turns out, the blood work was bad. They had to keep me. By 1:00 AM, I’m stuck on a hard auxiliary cot in a room with six other patients, basically parked in the hallway, already hooked up to two units of blood. Two 0.6-liter bags, so I ended up getting 1.2 liters of blood that night. Huge thanks to the donors.

PHASE IV

Spent a week stuck in the hospital. They ran me through the wringer: gastroscopy, colonoscopy, abdominal ultrasound, chest X-ray, daily blood work, vitals, two enemas, and enough injections to sink a ship. That waiting period for results? Pure torture. Everything finally boiled down to the colonoscopy. Honestly, an unforgettable experience, and by "unforgettable," I mean absolutely brutal. It’s this procedure where they use a camera to inspect your entire large intestine. The real nightmare happens at the bends. The camera bangs against the walls, and the pain is maddening while the nurse tries to manually adjust the device. The doctor was treating it like she was playing some high-level fanatic video game, twisting the joystick around. She even joked that her son gets mad because she won't play games with him, since she spends all day playing them at work. Another massive issue: the camera is basically the same size as your gut. They pump air in, and you get this sensation like everything inside you is about to burst and spray both you and the nurse everywhere. I went into shock—cold sweats, dizziness, the whole bit. They rushed to open the windows, cranked the AC, brought out wet cloths... just trying to stabilize me. Eventually, we hit the entrance to the small intestine and things leveled out. No tumors, nothing malignant or benign. Just internal hemorrhoids right at the exit. I thought, "Great, best-case scenario, exactly what I hoped for." Then I looked at the monitor. There were dark bulges in the intestine with visible capillaries clearly outlined. Passing stool just scrapes them, causing bleeding. So, I got sent home with orders to rest, take iron supplements until my blood counts improve, and then follow up with a surgeon. I also had to take two units of blood (another 1.2 liters) to get back on track—huge thanks to the donors. On top of that, I've been put on a strict diet: a stomach-friendly plan designed to fix my blood levels without wrecking my guts further. It’s awful. Banned: pork, lamb, any processed meats, anything fried, cakes, chocolate, hazelnuts, seeds, seafood (except boiled white fish), and even fruit is off-limits unless it's cooked or baked apples. Allowed: boiled meat, homemade lean unsalted soup, certain vegetables... that's it. If anyone wants to know about constipation, I could write a whole book on it.

PHASE V

I’ve been popping chewable tablets for a month now. My hemoglobin levels are still low, so I’ve got another month of this. Since Christmas is right around the corner, I’m holding off on seeing the doctor until after the holidays pass. I'm sticking to the diet and taking everything prescribed. Once my vacation wraps up, I’ll head back in—my iron levels are actually great now, but she wants me to keep going so my body can build up some reserves. It’s good timing since these results came after a month of being off the iron; it shows my body recovered on its own rather than just being a temporary fix from the pills. She told me ointments and creams won't do squat because they only handle inflammation, and I don't have inflammation—I just bleed. I have to make sure my stool stays soft so it doesn't scrape the walls and pop those capillaries. All in all, I’m ready to schedule the surgeon. She gave me his number and said once the appointment is set, I should come back for the referral. In the meantime, I'm staying busy—hitting the soccer field, crushing it at the gym, and even starting dance classes with my girlfriend. Basically, I'm super active and in peak shape. I met a guy who had his hemorrhoids handled by a private specialist: cost him less than 10 $0.00, show up in the afternoon, sit down, everything smells like burnt skin, sleep it off, and you're heading home the next day. That sounded like a tempting option, but it was way too expensive, so I decided to stick to the standard healthcare channels hoping for a better deal. Finally, I get my appointment and see the surgeon. He does a manual exam and an anoscopy (basically a magnifying tool inside the anus about 5 or 6 cm deep) and confirms it's hemorrhoids. Then he asks if I want them operated on. I say yes—I figured it was a standard, almost outpatient procedure, like something slightly more intense than clipping your nails. The doctor looks at me like I'm crazy. "What?" he asks. "Yes!" I reply. He calls a colleague to see if they can do it tomorrow. I tell him not quite tomorrow. He says fine, Monday it is (it was Thursday). He tells me to contact the anesthesiologist, get a coagulation test done, and check back Sunday afternoon for one last look from the anesthesiologist. I say okay. After that, total radio silence. Nobody tells me anything else. Turns out, I need a referral from my primary doctor for both the anesthesiologist and the hospital, which a nurse casually mentioned at the end. I felt like a total idiot. My doctor is also sending me for an EKG and mentioning some kidney checks because of the surgery. They ran me around like a dog with all their administration and bureaucracy, but that's a whole other story (thanks to the healthcare revolution led by Hebrang—the guy acted like he fell off Mars when he tried to fix our mess. I don't want to judge anyone, but the man could have learned from the mistakes of larger nations instead of repeating these ridiculous, arbitrary procedures. Just pathetic.)

PHASE VI

So, I show up at the hospital. Nothing new here; I was there three months ago and they poked and prodded me then, too. There aren't many surprises left in the tank. The nurse sticks the IV needle in my vein, and I hit the bed like a log. I just collapsed (SHOCK 1). Alright, moving on. They give me a enema to clear things out, I fast, they shave me, give me a sedative, and I head into the OR. Inside, it's dead silent. Two anesthesiologists administer regional anesthesia in my back. They position me like a pregnant woman in a movie. A team of three doctors plus a few nurses works in near-total silence for almost an hour, pulling and stretching and whatnot. I ended up counting about 1,700 little holes in the perforated tin ceiling. The silence was briefly broken when the surgeon snapped, "Give it to me, don't do that, we're going to complicate things for no reason." I have no clue what he meant, but I assume the procedure wasn't exactly "standard" or easy. I wake up in my room feeling totally groggy from the anesthesia. I can't feel my legs. As the anesthesia starts wearing off, I start feeling my hips. They give me a pain injection in my shoulder, and suddenly, I'm wet. A million needles seem to be coming out of me. Three nurses are jumping around, and two doctors on duty are staring at each other like two confused bulls—they have no idea what's happening. My blood pressure is 80/55. The nurses are rolling their eyes, and finally, one doctor guts up enough courage to crank two IV bags to max flow to bring me back to reality (SHOCK 2). I desperately need to pee; my bladder hurts, but because of the anesthesia, I can't engage my abs to use the urinal. I toss and turn all night trying to go. I woke up twice with the urinal positioned, but nothing. It wasn't until later that I finally managed to pee, but I strained so hard that some brown, smelly liquid leaked out. What did I do? They put a dissolving medicated tampon inside, so maybe that's normal—maybe. I didn't walk for another 12 hours. The guys in my room who had the same surgery were telling stories: "They come in today, surgery tomorrow with one anesthesiologist and one doctor, they listen to music and joke around in the OR, and by the afternoon, the regional wears off and you're home." Now, compare that to my experience. The morning after surgery is standard. I drink water. At noon, the physical therapist gets me up to walk. I look at her, totally confused, but she insists, so I get up and manage it. Great—now I can try using the actual toilet.

PHASE VII

Around 1:00 PM, lunch time. I’m having some soup. Finally, something to eat. Halfway through the soup, things go south—literally. Something just gives out down there. I figure it’s just more bleeding. I look down, and there's blood running down to my knee. I get up and head to the nurse at the station to have her take a look. She cleans me up, bandages me, and tells me it’s fine. Since I'm already up, I head to the restroom to pee—about 50 yards down the hall. Suddenly, the urge hits. It’s that "first bowel movement" the surgeon said we had to wait for before they'd let me go home (he thought I’d be in the hospital for five days total). I lean over the toilet, and boom—half a liter of blood flies out, along with clumps of clots. My mind goes straight to: *Great, my intestines burst and everything is spilling out.* (SHOCK LEVEL 3). I scramble to pull my pajamas between my legs to stop the leak, head for the door, and call for a nurse. Perfect timing, too—visiting hours. The hallway is packed with strangers. A nurse shows up, wraps me in a sheet, and leads me back to bed. Then the surgeon arrives and sticks a tube in me to stop the bleeding. They clean me up and change the sheets. Twenty minutes later, they're pushing me again. Within two minutes, I’m back in bed, practically swimming in clotted blood. From shoulder to knee, just covered. The surgeon shakes his head and rushes me back to the OR. This time I get full anesthesia. Total blackout. But before that, I had to deal with the tube; since I'd actually eaten the soup, they had to shove a thin tube through my nose all the way down to my stomach—seriously, guys, right into the stomach. I wake up to the sound of bed frames rattling; they're bringing me back. They cleaned me up and managed to close it off. Apparently, the blood kept leaking and filled up my entire intestinal tract until it reached the stomach. Then they squeezed it all out. 1.5 meters of bloody tubing. As I’m recovering from surgery, the pain starts hitting me hard. They clean me, then push me again. More blood. I’m shaking from the pain. I have to wait for the surgeon to see what just came out, but he's stuck in the OR. I’m facing the wall, shivering like a leaf, phone ringing—I don't even know who I'm talking to. Supposedly my girlfriend was right there next to me, but I don't remember. After a while, the surgeon shows up and says it was just stuff stuck in the system. They clean me, check my blood pressure and clotting, and give me Voltaren for the pain. I ended up staying in the hospital for another six days under observation just to wait for that first stool. The pain feels like someone dropped a hot coal in my ass; it only finally subsided a month after the surgery. Between being immobile, wearing diapers, using creams, taking Voltaren, antibiotics, and endless injections, I turned into an old man overnight.

PHASE VIII

I’ve been home for a month now. The worst part is the "false start." Once the urge hits, I have to run to the bathroom, but then I end up going 5 or 6 more times within two hours, and the last two are nothing but blood. The area where they operated on the hemorrhoids is basically a knot of nerves. That’s why the surgeon had to leave those smaller ones alone—to let the tissue and nerves regenerate over the next six months. Not that
it wasn't enough that I bled out and suffered; now I can't do anything without bleeding again. Apparently, those smaller hemorrhoids flared up. Now, I still go 5 or 6 times, but I don't get the cramps, so things move naturally when they need to. I don't strain, so there’s no blood. The surgery was the classic "knife" method. Looking back, I wonder why I didn't just spring for the laser treatment to avoid this much misery. But my doctor explained that with the laser, they only burn the top layer, leaving the bottom to regenerate, so there's a 95% chance they come back. With the traditional surgery, there's a 75% chance they stay gone. Honestly, if they come back, who cares? I'm still dealing with them anyway. No red wine, no alcohol, no prosciutto, no shrimp—nothing. Maybe I'll allow myself a little something on special occasions, but life has definitely changed. It seems my childhood motto follows me everywhere: "I survived chickenpox." A week at home itching, crying, and suffering. When I finally felt better, my mom took me to a bakery. And there, I started itching like crazy. Chickenpox again? Nope. First it was measles, now it's chickenpox. Some things you just can't predict or avoid. You just have to accept them and keep moving.

Hey everyone on the forum. If anyone has questions, fire away.

Benjamin Gray33 said:PHASE V

I’ve been taking chewable tablets for a month now. My hemoglobin levels are still low, so the doctor wants me on them for another month. Since Christmas is coming up, I’m holding off on seeing the doctor until after the holidays pass. I’m following the regimen—eating and taking everything prescribed. Once my vacation is over, I’ll head back to the clinic. My iron levels look great now, but she gave me more just to ensure my body builds up a reserve. It’s a good thing these labs were done a month after I stopped the iron supplements; otherwise, the results wouldn't reflect the pills, but rather the fact that my body had finally recovered on its own. She explained that ointments and creams won't cut it because they only address inflammation, and while I don't have inflammation, I am bleeding. I have to make sure my stool stays soft so it doesn't scrape the walls and rupture capillaries that then start bleeding. All in all, I can finally get scheduled with a surgeon. She gave me the number and told me that once I get an appointment, I should come back to her for the referral. In the meantime, I’m staying busy—hitting the soccer field, going to the gym, and even starting dance classes with my girlfriend. Basically, I'm incredibly active and in top shape. I actually met a guy who had his hemorrhoids operated on at a private clinic: it cost him less than 10 $0.00, you show up in the afternoon, sit down, everything smells like inflamed skin, you sleep it off, and you’re heading home the next day. That sounded like a perfect option, except it was way too expensive, so I decided to stick to the public healthcare channels in the hopes of saving some money. Eventually, I get my appointment and see the surgeon. He performs a manual exam and an anoscopy (a magnifying tool inserted about 5 or 6 cm deep), and confirms the hemorrhoids. He asks if I want them operated on. I say yes (I assumed it would be a standard, almost outpatient procedure—something slightly more complex than clipping a fingernail). The doctor looks at me like I’m crazy and goes, "What?" I tell him, "Yes!" He immediately calls a colleague to ask if he can do it tomorrow. I told him not quite tomorrow. He says fine, Monday it is (it was Thursday). He tells me to contact the anesthesiologist, get a coagulation profile done, and check back Sunday afternoon so the anesthesiologist can examine me again. I say okay. After that, nobody tells me anything else. I find out from a nurse, almost by accident, that I need a referral from my primary doctor for both the anesthesiologist and the hospital stay. I felt like a total idiot. My doctor is also sending me for an EKG and mentioning some kidney checks due to the surgery. The bureaucracy and administration treated me like a complete amateur, but that’s a whole different story (thanks to the revolution in healthcare led by Hebrang; the guy acted like he just landed from Mars when he tried to fix our mess. I don't want to judge anyone, but the man could have learned from the mistakes of larger nations instead of repeating these absurd, forced procedures. Just pathetic).

PHASE VI

So, I arrive at the hospital. Nothing new there; I was there three months ago and they poked and prodded me then, too. There isn't much left that can surprise me. The nurse sticks the IV needle in my vein, and I just lie on the bed like a log. I basically just collapsed (SHOCK 1). Alright, moving on. They give me a enema to clear things out, I fast, they prep me, give me a sedative, and I head into the operating room. Inside the OR, it's dead silent. Two anesthesiologists administer regional anesthesia into my back. They position me like a pregnant woman in a movie, and then a team of three doctors plus a few nurses spend nearly an hour in heavy silence pulling and stretching things. I ended up counting about 1,700 little holes in the perforated tin ceiling. The silence was briefly broken when the surgeon said, "Let me do it, don't do that, we're going to complicate things unnecessarily." I don't know what that meant, but I assume the procedure wasn't exactly routine or easy. I return to my room from the OR feeling completely disoriented from the anesthesia. I can't feel my legs. As the anesthesia starts wearing off, I begin to feel my hips. They give me a pain injection in my shoulder, and suddenly, I’m soaked. A million sensations seem to exit my body at once. Three nurses jump up, and two doctors on call stare at each other like two confused bulls—they have no idea what's happening. My blood pressure is 80/55. The nurses are rolling their eyes, and then one doctor finally gathers enough courage to run two IV bags at maximum flow to bring everything back to normal (SHOCK 2). Because of the IV fluids, I desperately need to pee. My bladder hurts, but because of the anesthesia, I can't contract my abdomen to use the urinal. I toss and turn all night, straining. I woke up twice with the urinal positioned right there, but nothing happened. It wasn't until later that I finally managed to go, but I strained so hard that a brown, foul-smelling liquid leaked out. What did I do? They had placed a dissolving medicated tampon inside, so maybe that's normal—maybe. I didn't manage to walk for about 12 hours. The people in my room who had undergone similar surgeries told me stories along these lines: they come in today, have surgery tomorrow with one anesthesiologist and one doctor, listen to music and joke around in the OR, and in the recovery room, the regional anesthesia wears off in 3-4 hours and they are home the next day. Now, you compare that to my experience. The morning after the surgery is normal. I drink water. At noon, the physical therapist gets me up to walk. I look at her, totally confused, but she insists, so I get up and manage to do it. Great. Now I can finally try using the actual toilet.

PHASE VII

It was around 1:00 PM, lunchtime. I was having some soup—finally, a little something to show for it. Then, halfway through the broth, something went wrong deep down south. I figured it was just more bleeding. I looked down, and there was blood running all the way to my knee. I hauled myself up and headed to the nurse at the station to have her take a look. She cleaned me up, bandaged me, and told me it was nothing to worry about. Since I was already on my feet, I decided to head to the restroom to relieve myself—about 50 yards down the hall. Suddenly, the urge hits me; that inevitable bowel movement I’d been waiting for (the surgeon told me he wouldn't discharge me until I had my first real movement, so I was supposed to be home by now, yet here I am stuck in the hospital). I lean over the toilet, and suddenly, about half a liter of blood, thick with clots, just erupts out of me. My mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario: I thought my intestines had ruptured and everything was just spilling out. (SHOCK LEVEL 3). I scrambled up, pulling my pajamas between my legs to try and stem the flow, and limped toward the door calling for a nurse. It happened right during visiting hours. The hallway was packed with strangers. A nurse finally appeared, wrapped me in a sheet, and helped me back to my bed. Then the surgeon arrives and inserts a probe to stop the hemorrhaging. They clean me up and change the linens. Twenty minutes later, they push me again. Within two minutes, I’m back in my bed, practically swimming in clotted blood. It was everywhere, from shoulder to knee. The surgeon just shakes his head and rushes me straight back to the OR. This time, I got full anesthesia. I was drifting off, but before that, I had to deal with the tube; since I’d actually eaten some soup, they had to pass a tube through my nose down to my stomach—can you believe that? Just a thin tube shoved through the nasal passage into the gut. I woke up to the sound of bed frames rattling; they were bringing me back. They had cleaned me up and managed to plug the leak. Apparently, the blood had filled the entire intestinal tract all the way up to the stomach. Then they tightened things up and cleared it out. It was 1.5 meters of bloody tubing. As I recover from surgery, the pain starts hitting me in waves. They clean me, then they push me again, and once more, the blood comes pouring out. I’m literally shaking from the agony. I have to wait for the surgeon to see this mess, but he’s tied up in the OR. I’m lying there facing the wall, shivering like a leaf, while the phone rings—I can’t even tell who I’m talking to. Apparently, my girlfriend was right there by my side, but I don't remember it. After a while, the surgeon finally shows up and tells me it was just residual buildup in the system. They clean me out, monitor my blood pressure and hematocrit, and give me some Voltaren for the pain. Because of that, I ended up spending another six days in the hospital under observation. We finally waited out that first bowel movement. The pain... it feels like a glowing coal is lodged in my backside. That sensation only started fading a month after the operation. The immobility, the diapers, the creams, the Voltaren, the antibiotics, and the endless injections—it turned me into an old man overnight.

PHASE VIII

I’ve been home for a month now. The absolute worst part has been the "false alarms." One time the urge hits, and I rush to the bathroom, only to find myself needing to go five or six more times within two hours—and those last few times, it’s nothing but blood. You see, the area where the hemorrhoids were operated on is essentially a dense cluster of nerve endings. That’s why the surgeon had to leave those smaller hemorrhoids alone; he needed the tissue and nerves to regenerate over the next six months. It’s not just that
that I bled or suffered; now, even when I do nothing, I’m still bleeding. Apparently, those smaller ones have flared up. Now, I still have to go to the bathroom 5 or 6 times, but at least there aren't the same agonizing cramps. The movements happen naturally, I don't force them, so there isn't any blood. The surgery was a classic "under the knife" procedure. Looking back, I wonder why I didn't just bite the bullet and invest in a more modern approach so it wouldn't hurt this much—you know, the laser stuff so you could be home the next day. But my doctor explained that with the laser, you only cauterize the top layer while the bottom stays to regenerate, meaning there’s a 95% chance they’ll come back. With the traditional surgery, there's a 75% chance they stay gone. Honestly, if they come back, it doesn't matter because I'm still dealing with them anyway. And the diet? Forget it. No red wine, no alcohol, no prosciutto, no shrimp—nothing. Maybe I'll allow myself a little something on special occasions, but life has definitely changed. It feels like my childhood motto is following me to the grave: "I survived chickenpox." I spent a week at home itching, crying, and suffering. Once I finally felt better, my mom took me out for dessert, and that’s when the itching started again. Chickenpox again? No. I’d had measles first, and now chickenpox. Some things you just can't predict, and some things you can't outrun. You just have to learn to accept them and keep moving forward.

Greetings to everyone on the forum. If anyone has questions, feel free to ask.

Look, I can only tell you this much: you absolutely should not have been taking Voltaren, and you shouldn't touch it now either. The same goes for Ibuprofen, Advil, or Ketorolac... they all act as vasodilators, widening your blood vessels and increasing blood flow, which means if you're already bleeding, you’re just going to bleed even more. For pain management, stick to Tylenol, Panadol, or Excedrin; they are much gentler. Those other drugs are essentially potent anti-inflammatories, and that's dangerous right now. If you don't want to bleed out, stay far away from them. You could potentially use Analgin, but only if your blood pressure is perfectly normal, because that stuff can cause a massive drop in pressure—so if yours is low, skip it entirely. This isn't just an opinion; I'm telling you this as a nurse who worked in the ICU specializing in gastroenterology. In our unit, we weren't even allowed to hand out Voltaren casually. Honestly, I have no idea what kind of fool would have prescribed those to you, but moving forward, don't take them—even if the bleeding seems to have stopped—unless you want to end up hemorrhaging again.

Thanks. Honestly, I had no clue. I was taking some Plavix for the pain for a bit, but that settled down. Now it’s just this stinging sensation when I sit, and that’s it. Someone’s actually trying to tell me that an anti-inflammatory is a good idea, but if it makes the veins swell, I'm definitely out.

The hospital gave me Voltaren because after that first painkiller, my blood pressure tanked to 80/55. They figured it was a reaction, switched me over to Voltaren, and man, thank God for that. I remember clearly asking for it the second I felt that tiny sting, since it takes a full hour to kick in, and I was constantly tossing and turning from the agony. I ended up getting about 12 Voltaren injections in five days. A lot, sure, but I think I would’ve lost my mind without it.

Anyway, I’m on Detralex now because of the heavy bleeding. After two days of chugging it, those literal streams of blood turned into just two little drops by my seventh bowel movement. Great. Maybe I didn't even need surgery. Maybe I could've handled the initial bleeding with just the Detralex. What an idiot. 😂

Man, you guys really just ruined my dinner. Gross.

It’s just me, honestly. Every time I sit down to eat, I can already feel the burn because I just had a bowel movement. I'm eating my food and all I can think is that this is all just going to turn into more trouble in the bathroom. Halfway through a meal, I'm already having to bolt for the toilet. To be real, I think I'm even more fed up with this whole situation than you are.

Benjamin Gray33 said:Thanks. I honestly had no idea. I was taking some Plivadone for the pain, but the ache finally receded. Now it’s just this sharp cutting sensation when I sit down, and that’s about it. Someone is trying to tell me Aspirin is a good option, but if it thins the blood, it’s definitely out of the question for me.

The hospital switched me over to Voltaren because after that first painkiller, my blood pressure plummeted to 80/55. They assumed it was an adverse reaction, moved me to Voltaren, and frankly, I'm grateful. I remember vividly how I started asking for it at the slightest sting, mostly because it takes a full hour to kick in, and I spent far too much time tossing and turning from the agony. I ended up getting about 12 Voltaren injections over five days. It sounds excessive, but I think I would have lost my mind without them.

As for now, I’ve been taking Detralex to manage the heavy bleeding, and after two days of aggressive dosing, those torrents of blood have finally dwindled down to just a couple of drops by my seventh bowel movement today. Great. Maybe I shouldn't have gone through with the surgery after all. Perhaps I could have managed those initial bleeds with just Detralex. God, what a fool.😂

Aspirin is effective for pain and actually provides cardiac protection since it can help prevent a heart attack, but there's a catch. If you're going to use Aspirin, Ketorolac, Ibuprofen, or Voltaren—though, honestly, you really shouldn't touch those if you're worried about hemorrhaging, regardless of whether your surgical wound has healed—then you absolutely must take them on a very full stomach. Never on an empty one. Personally, I’d suggest sticking to things like Tylenol or anything acetaminophen-based; they tend to be more forgiving, and while you can take two at once, you still shouldn't overdo it. Always read the labels. As for that blood pressure drop, it was likely caused by whatever Analgin they gave you, as that stuff is notorious for tanking your pressure. Also, just so we're clear: for someone in your position, Aspirin and Andol are essentially the same thing.

Well, here I am joining this "cheerful" group. I noticed a problem about a month ago; there was a little blood on the paper after using the bathroom. It didn't surprise me much since I've dealt with stuff like this before, but usually, it would last a day or two and then clear up. This time, it hasn't, and honestly, it seems to be getting worse. After one particular wipe, there was more blood than usual and I started to panic. 😁 I spend most of my day sitting at a computer, and lately, my diet has been pretty dry, so I recognize all the typical causes for hemorrhoids. My father deals with them too, so there's definitely a genetic predisposition here. I suppose I'm lucky that they don't hurt on their own. When I feel around down there—applying a bit of pressure—I can feel a slight tenderness moving upward from the anus toward the lower back. I'm not sure how to describe the location perfectly, but it’s nothing compared to what I hear others complaining about regarding being unable to sit due to pain. The issue is that now, it feels like it "bursts" during every bowel movement. There's blood, though not a massive amount, just enough on the paper. I assume some sort of "sac" filled with blood keeps rupturing. Even though I've been careful with my diet lately—eating very strictly—and my stool has improved and isn't hard anymore, the bursting sensation persists. How can I calm it down? I know unless there's surgery, it can't be removed entirely. Should I watch my diet more, or maybe apply something to the area? I should note that I can feel it under my finger right at the top, yet it doesn't hurt when I'm sitting or even during the actual movement.
Thanks for any help.

edit: I just read through some of the recent posts, and it sounds like I might have internal ones, which would explain why they bleed without causing pain. I'm feeling a bit calmer now 😁 but still, how do I soothe internal hemorrhoids?

"I guess it’s like some little blood sac just bursts from all that pressure."

Basically, you've got hard stools scraping against those inflamed areas, which ends up rupturing the surface capillaries and causing the bleeding. Maybe try taking Detralex, but definitely run it by your primary care doctor first.