Danny Breslin

How it is…

Poor old Wrinkly Dan


Yesterday was the most scared I have ever been, or at least as far back as I can remember. I don’t really do proper scared: nervous sometimes, a little apprehensive maybe and the occasional bout of worry; but being really knee-knocking, teeth chattering, wet underpants terrified? Naaaah!

I’ve found myself in situations which should have had me quaking in my boots: I’ve stared down the twin black barrels of a shotgun, a pistol discharged so close to me that I got minor powder burns, I’ve had knives pulled on me, a glass broke my tooth, enjoyed immensely a face full of CS gas and been in the middle of rucks involving literally hundreds. (Not anymore of course!) That’s apart from the mad stuff that you read about in my book Me & Gus on the Roof of the World. I was never really scared, just getting a rush from the adrenaline that threatened to burst my heart.

Yesterday was different. I’m going to share this with you, the shame I felt at being scared.

I told you previously about the kidney stone I had removed, I know you enjoyed that one you sadistic bastards. Well, to keep my pipe open they put in a stent. Yesterday was the day I had it removed and it was coming out the same way it went in: through the one good eye of…let’s call him Wrinkly Dan.

I sat in the waiting room of the Treatment Centre, each hand holding on to the other in an effort to stop them from shaking. My mouth was dry and I couldn’t swallow. My eyes kept straying to the exit, what’s to stop me just getting up and leaving? Don’t be stupid, I admonished myself, it’s got to come out.

My name was called and I pointed at someone else, but the nurse knew it was me and gently took my arm, with the promise of a more forceful gesture hanging in the air if I tried to resist. She walked me down the corridor and into a room with a couch and a television screen next to it. Oh well, at least there would be something to keep my mind of it. I asked the nurse if they could put on Sky Sports News, England has a couple of World Cup qualifying matches coming up and I wanted to listen to any squad updates. She smiled and bade me sit down next to the doctor.

He asked me questions about allergies and what not. I asked him if it was going to hurt, feeling like a wimp for even saying something like that out loud. He nodded his head and told me it would be uncomfortable. Oh brilliant, at least have the decency to lie about it!

I was forced to dress in a hospital gown with my blushing bottom open to the world and his mother; my cheeks burning with the same embarrassment, fear and shame shared by the cheeks on my face. By this time the doctor and nurse combo had been joined by two other nurses; why should they miss out on the show? All four were between me and the door – could I fight my way out? A knock-down, drag-em-out scrap followed by my bare-arsed flight down the corridor in flapping gown? I decided against it and lay on the couch as instructed.

A needle entered my thigh, I can’t remember what they said was in it but I think they just did it for a bit of a laugh. Just to add to my crushing pile of misery. The nurse on my right was talking to me and I tried to focus on what she was saying: “The doctor’s going to put some gel in there to act as both a local anaesthetic and a lubricant.” The only reply I could muster was “mmnn”.

My skirt was lifted with little ceremony and Wrinkly Dan, who is always kept in pristine condition, was washed by an antiseptic cloth. I winced but was told he hadn’t started yet. Then it did start as my best friend and, at times in the past, greatest enemy was in the hands of another man! What had I been reduced to? I mourned the loss of my last little shred of dignity. Okay so yeah they had hold of him when they operated but I was asleep at the time and unable to defend myself; not in a position to grab the handler by the throat and shake him silly.

The three nurses gathered like vultures and gazed at Wrinkly Dan – purely in a professional sense of course, I doubt any of them were thinking: “…if only my husband…” (hehehehe)

Gel applied, the television flickered into life beside me. I looked over to see if there was anything worth watching just as the little camera disappeared from view. I realised, after catching my breath and flexing stomach muscles that I forgot I had, that I was the star of the show on the screen. Ah, television fame at last.

“Juuuuust relax…” said the doctor soothingly.

“Just f*** off,” I replied desperately. He made no indication that he’d heard my gritted teeth riposte.

“And we’re in the bladder.” Next to me the nurse asked me if I wanted to look, but I told her I’d seen something I quite liked on the inside of my eyelids. It was an incredible feeling, it was like I was peeing. One of those eight pints of lager piddles that go on forever.

The worst bit was yet to come, “On our way out now.” The doctor informed me.

“Now don’t you rush yourself pal,” I grunted back, “I’ve got nothing else on this afternoon.”

The wire camera had done what it was supposed to do and snagged the stent and now it was bringing it back out. Oh man, the camel was passing through the eye of the needle. The nurse held my right hand tight, probably to stop me knocking the doctor on his arse, my left was gripping the side of the couch like it was the edge of a cliff. “One last little…”


One of the nurses announced “Its a boy!” Everybody’s a comedian.

It was over, it was out. The manhandler let go and Wrinkly Dan lay on his side, visibly exhausted. I lay on my back, shaking like a leaf. I was traumatised. The doctor had a big grin on his face and asked me if I wanted to see what it was they had just removed. I thought a stent would be like a little tiny plastic sleeve or tube to keep the entrance to my bladder from swelling shut, maybe an inch or two long. This…this…thing that was waved in front of me looked like it had been fashioned out of a wire coat hanger. It was about 9 inches to a foot long with loops on the end. Were they all like that or did they supersize me just to be cruel?




I felt a bit woozy as the adrenaline supply was all used up and it took me a few minutes before I could stand up. My hands were still shaking as they put another gown around me to cover my blushing cheeks and sat me in a wheelchair, I was taken to a changing room to get dressed. There was a toilet there and I emptied my abused bladder, Wrinkly Dan had his revenge and I whimpered like an abandoned puppy in the rain as what felt like white hot needles of pain shot through his battered head.

It took me a good while to get dressed as my hands still shook and my legs kept time with them.

As we got outside to the car park I took the keys from Mrs B and insisted I’d drive, anything to take my mind off what had just happened. As I opened the car door I almost lost the last vestiges of my dignity, I felt like crying. “No f***ing way mate,” I told myself as I pulled on my seatbelt. Mrs B asked me if I was okay. “Of course!” I shrugged. I decided that this would be my last ever kidney stone.

My friends if you only ever follow one piece of advice that I give you then it should be this: ALWAYS DRINK PLENTY OF WATER!


September 6, 2013 - Posted by | Stuff and Nonsense | , , , , , ,


  1. That was like reading the worst horror story ever written. I hope it never happens to me.

    Comment by Christopher Meade | September 6, 2013 | Reply

    • I sincerely hope it doesn’t happen to you either.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  2. Pray Great Veles i never have to go through that.

    Comment by john zande | September 6, 2013 | Reply

    • I don’t know who Great Veles is but do me a favour and have a quick word for me that I don’t get another stone?

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

      • Oh no, he’s the wrong god for that: Slavic god of wealth, musicians and trickery. Stones would be just his thing, for laughs you understand.

        Comment by john zande | September 10, 2013

      • Tsk, so many deities so little time. Just glad I’m not Hindu.

        Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013

  3. The mere fact that you write all this to warn people and encourage them to drink plenty of water shows what a kind and caring human being you are …after this ordeal!
    Well done, well endured and IT’S ALL IN THE PAST NOW!!! 🙂

    Comment by marina kanavaki | September 6, 2013 | Reply

    • Yep that’s me: kind and caring. Is it okay if I quote you in my local pub?

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  4. Lordy, Danny. My Vasectomy was a cake walk compared to you.

    Comment by richardmax22 | September 6, 2013 | Reply

    • Richard, I thought we’d agreed not to use the ‘V’ word again?

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  5. Drinking My Water after reading this and may add a few ounces a day too.

    Comment by cravesadventure | September 6, 2013 | Reply

    • Don’t forget cranberry juice – preventative medicine.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  6. Try having three babies… no really I’m sorry you had to go through that. I hate hospitals and doctors, there is always a sense of wrongness in their blase attitudes toward your intimate parts. Which is probably a good thing, except when you get a really good looking doc or nurse doing the necessaries, male or female, I’m not fussy. Then it gets awkward, even if still very undignified!

    Comment by Ishaiya | September 7, 2013 | Reply

    • I’m truly glad I can’t give birth. Talking about awkward: the first time I saw an osteopath I was stripped to my boxers and she woke him up. I was a bit embarrassed so to ease the tension I said, “this must happen quite often”. She looked down and said “Not to that extent.”

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  7. Having babies does not compare to this pain. I watched my husband go through trying to pass the stone, living with the pain the stent caused and then having the stent removed. His doctor said it wouldn’t hurt. In the midst of having it removed–which caused a great deal of pain–my husband shouted, “You fuckers lied to me!” Glad you’re on the mend. I hope Wrinkly Dan is feeling better, too.

    Comment by jmlindy422 | September 7, 2013 | Reply

    • I’m shivering with the memories again.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  8. I can compare your experience with what I went through when i had my arse -check up, I don’t remember what it’s called. 0_0?

    Comment by renxkyoko | September 7, 2013 | Reply

    • Sorry?!? What is an “arse check up”? I’m crying with laughter now. Please, without giving too much detail, tell me more about this…LOL

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

      • Preventive check-up, basically. My mother and I had the check-ups together. Mammogram ( for breast cancer,) eye, and COLON cancer <——- arse check-up. =_="

        Comment by renxkyoko | September 10, 2013

      • Aaaaaaahhhhh, now I get it. Sorry I laughed but when you put arse check up…. Just turn ’em round, look down and say “Yeah, it’s still there.”

        Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013

  9. My sympathies, Danny! Hope you are feeling better! And I must confess, I would NOT have had the courage to share this with the world, even in cyber anonymity.

    Comment by mj | September 9, 2013 | Reply

    • Ahh, thanks my friend. Unfortunately my capacity for shame is fairly limited and doesn’t cover this, if only I had my video camera with me it would be on YouTube. Just kidding!

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 10, 2013 | Reply

  10. Okay, I laughed my a** off at this one… yeah I am one of those sadistic bastards… but then I looked at the picture and well.. I just drank a gallon of water no stone for me mate…. no way,,, uh uh… no no no… no way they are shoving that inside of me… okay.. off to get another gallon of water and then empty so I can refill again! hope there is enough water…. poor kidneys… wow… that was inside you? hmmm…. ouch?

    Comment by colliesofthemeadow | September 14, 2013 | Reply

    • You’re a wrong ‘un, as they say around here. Imagine laughing at that.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | September 16, 2013 | Reply

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