Jul. 17th, 2017

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This one will soothe your inner 10-year-old boy.

So Madame and I got to discussing fecal transplants, like you do. You’ve probably heard about fecal transplants. The TL;DR version (in case you’re reading this on the toilet): some intractable and possibly fatal illnesses (e.g., a Clostridium difficile infection) can arise when the balance of your intestinal microflora is disrupted. That is, the natural bugs that inhabit your gastrointestinal tract offer significant protection against unnatural bugs that don’t belong there. If the natural bugs are (ahem) knocked on their ass by some unfortunate event, such as a course of oral antibiotics to cure an infection somewhere outside your gastrointestinal tract, you become more vulnerable to other infections.

Some bright light realized that maybe, if you transplanted healthy stool from a willing donor, you could restore that microbial balance. It worked, and the rest is medical history.

I am not making this shit up. Vade mecum* for a moment.

* Latin for (ahem) “go with me”.

I’m imagining the medical ethics committee meeting:

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“No, I’m quite serious.”

“Were you volunteering?”

“Do I look that stupid?”

“Nice weather we’re having.”

“[fumes quietly to himself] So do I have your approval to go ahead with the procedure, strictly on a trial basis?”

“I don’t suppose we’ll ever hear the end of this, but sure, whatever. How are you going to persuade anyone to try this?”

“Have you seen the shit they put up with once we’ve got them in the hospital? This is small potatoes by comparison.”

We draw the veil of discretion over what happened next. Bottom line: So now that fecal transplants are a bona fide medical procedure, which leads the inquiring mind to wonder: Where will they get this stuff? “No, Madame. You want the Red Cross clinic next door. We’re the Brown Circle clinic.”

There will undoubtedly be celebrity product lines, advertised madly during late-night TV. “Sorry, Sir, we’re out of the Jennifer Anuston. But we’ve got a nice new shipment of Colon Firth for your wife.”

Spas that formerly offered cleanses will now offer the reverse:

“I’ll have the dark roast venti, Maurice.”

“Very good, Madame.”

(So what is the opposite of a cleanse, anyway? A foul? A debauch?) We’ll undoubtedly see slogans like “the enema of my enema is my friend”. And, inevitably, “Made in America” or “Make great, America”. Indeed, this gives the Dump Trump “movement” a whole new meaning.

They’re working on developing this in pill form, like probiotics. That’s got my vote, despite dissenting voices from the “half the fun is the anal probe!” crowd of former alien abductees.

Ah, science!


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