Laugh or you’ll cry: Jess Karamjeet’s raw new comedy

Having my bum poked and prodded by a Thai doctor ranks pretty high in my list of embarrassing experiences. But as far as stories go, it’s one of the more entertaining ones about living with a chronic illness. On Friday 16 and Saturday 17 February at Q Theatre, I’ll be sharing stories exactly like these as part of my solo comedy hour REDUNDANT for Auckland Pride.

My journey into comedy has not been a straightforward one, and part of my motivation is to bring lightness and laughter to otherwise deeply excruciating experiences and to inspire people into the stand-up comedy space. 

The aforementioned bum prodding took place in Bangkok, several moons ago. I’d gone to stay with a friend, another British Indian expat I’d connected with on my very first day of solo travel, and we went for a drink at a local bar. We were mid-chat when I realised I was so uncomfortable that I couldn’t sit any longer. I excused myself and went to stand in the toilet for five minutes before subtly intimating that we should leave and, on the five-minute walk home, I broke down and cried in pain. A quick investigation back home at her condo confirmed my fears – stress had quite literally broken my bum.

I was frog-marched to the pharmacy and explained the problem to the woman behind the counter, giving her my best ‘oh, isn’t this just the highlight of my trip!’ grin in an attempt to hide my embarrassment. I was immediately presented with a box of cream and other helpful things from the chemist.

Over the next four days, I dosed up on so many painkillers that I’m surprised I didn’t OD. Outside one club, after trying and failing to flirt through the pain with someone we’ll call Club Girl, I was again escorted to a late-night pharmacy to buy more drugs. As I swigged from a bottle of water and knocked back a couple of pills, Club Girl pressed me into fessing up to my sore bum. I was stunned and incredibly flattered to hear that she thought I was still a viable sexual prospect, but as the pain increased, I quickly realised I needed proper medical attention – and fast.

The next day, I made an appointment at the nearest private hospital. In the sweltering heat, I made my way along the canal over broken wooden bridges all the while with the most excruciating pain I've ever experienced radiating from my back passage. I tried to flag down a motorbike taxi but they weren't interested, so on I hobbled.

I arrived at the hospital and was stunned by how beautiful it was - the flowers, the signage, the marble floors and pillars. If I had to spend a lot of time there, I decided it wouldn't be too shabby. I explained my situation to a doctor and he asked me to hop up onto the bed so he could take a look. I think he was surprised by my eagerness, but I knew what was wrong and wanted to get better and, as anyone with a back catalogue of ailments will know, sometimes that means getting finger-probed by a stranger.

As the prodding commenced, I couldn't help but scream in pain. The nurse winced. Yes, I told him through gritted teeth, that hurts. Tears streaming down my face, the nurse pitifully handed me tissues which I used to dab my eyes.

The doctor prescribed me an assortment of drugs and told me he wanted to see me again in a week. I was terrified to hear that if I wasn't healing well enough, I would require surgery. Next up was a trip to the payment counter, where once again my sphincter and bank account winced with sympathy pains. Once the bill was settled, I spent the week recouping by my friend’s pool, on my stomach.

A week later, I headed back to the hospital. I was chipper by this point, fairly certain I was getting better and wouldn’t need to go under the knife. Laying on the table under the thin paper sheet, knees towards my chest and buttocks in the air, I took some deep breaths and tried to relax. The moment was almost upon us - when the doctor’s phone rang. And he actually answered it. Lubed hands and everything.

I’ve got to say, disability mishaps and all, having a rectal exam in Bangkok really was the low point of these last eight weeks of travel. The high point was sleeping with a woman for the first time - Club Girl, oh yeah!

Jess Karamjeet performs REDUNDANT at Q theatre, 6pm on Friday 16 & Saturday 17 February as part of Auckland Pride and Summer at Q. The space is accessible and tickets are available here. @jess_karamjeet & jessica-karamjeet.com