People get embarrassed at the thought of going to an emergency room over something that they think will be embarrassing. Please don’t. If something is causing you pain, or might even be life-threatening, but might reveal you have sex -- even kinky sex -- don’t worry about it. Especially in large cities, ER staff have seen it all. Nevertheless, they do remember the especially creative things, which often involve the use of things in ways for which they were not designed, in body orifices not intended for metal, glass, and plastic.

About 2AM one night, I was awakened by a call from a good friend, my first wife’s second ex-husband. He’s straight, and not especially kinky. After the divorce, though, he was lonely. He had gotten a job that he really enjoyed, as assistant manager of an independent office supply store. With the blessing of top management, he’d bring home merchandise, often to get a better understanding of how it could be used.

One of the items that he brought home was a bottle of White-Out correction fluid for typed sheets. I recognize that a typewriter and typing is to many readers, is as ancient as keeping your food in a literal icebox, dressing up to fly in luxurious coach-class airliners, or having politicians that while opponents, respect one another. For each key press, a typewriter puts ink on a sheet of paper. If you make an error, the only way to fix it with visual perfection is to retype the page.

Erasers existed but didn’t work very well. Correction fluid was a big improvement. It was an opaque white fluid -- paint really -- that came in small bottles, perhaps an inch (25 mm) tall and half an inch (12 mm) in diameter. There was a small screw-in cap, which had a brush attached to its underside. To use it, you shook the bottle, took out the brush with fluid on it, painted over the error, put the paper back in the typewriter, and retyped the correct information over what looked like blank paper.

He had been reading some porn, featuring an anal scene, and wondered, “What does it feel like for the woman?” Along with the story, he was consuming a fair bit of beer. His eyes fell on the White-Out bottle, and he got what, in retrospect, was a Really Bad Idea. Already naked, he picked up the bottle, lubricated it, reached behind himself, and slipped it in just a little, holding it by the cap. To his surprise, it felt good, in a weird way. The lubricating jelly had gotten onto his fingers and the cap, and he lost his grip on the bottle. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it fell to the floor, but that’s not where it went. It moved forward, until the cap escaped his fingers and the relevant orifice closed over it.

He thought it would come out easily, from an orifice normally used for outgoing traffic, but it would not. He called me, seeking a solution other than the hospital. Unfortunately, my car wasn’t working, and I had few instruments at home.

I told him he’d probably needed to go to the hospital, and the ER folk wouldn’t laugh at him. “Isn’t there anything I can try?”

“One thing, perhaps. Got some clean rubber gloves and some unused synthetic cleaning sponges?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a technique that sometimes gives a doctor enough grip to grab an object in anus or vagina. You can try it, but otherwise, it’s the ER.

“Wash your hands. Put on the rubber glove. Cut out finger-width pieces of sponge and firmly tape them to two fingers. If you don’t have strong tape, don’t try this. Try to get those two fingers into the hole, and, if you touch the bottle, try to grip it and gently pull it out. If anything hurts, stop. If you can’t get it out easily, stop. Go to the ER.”