Is this the ultimate pipe cleaner? (From The Northern Echo)

Is this the ultimate pipe cleaner?

9:49am Friday 26th September 2008

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With detox the health buzzword, colonic hydrotherapy – formerly known as colonic irrigation – is becoming more popular. Owen Amos puts on his paper pants and gives it a go.

CALL me dull – unimaginative, if you like – but I’ve never had anything shoved up my bottom. I know, I know. I’ve lived a sheltered life. But, like bungee jumping, sky diving, and peanut butter Kit Kats, anal penetration has never leapt up and said: “Try me!”

So, at first, colonic irrigation didn’t appeal. For one, I didn’t like the idea of being irrigated. What am I – a field? Were they hoping that, once irrigated, I’d produce a nice harvest of sugar cane? Or sweet potato?

Second, I had no idea what a colon was. Well, I did. It’s two full-stops on top of each other, which you put before a list. You know, like “100 Reasons I’ve Never Shoved Anything Up My Backside:”

Eventually, someone explained the human version – it’s the “storage tube for solid wastes”. At which, a thought flashed through my tiny mind. Would irrigation leave me with a semi-colon?

But, eventually, I came round.

“The ideal healthy transit time from eating to defecation should be less than 24 hours,” I read on the Detox Studio’s website, www.detoxstudio.

co.uk. “On average, in the UK it currently takes 60 hours for men.”

Which, we all agree, is too long.

My irrigation – sorry, hydrotherapy, as it’s now known – would allow “encrusted faecal matter, mucous, gas and parasites to be gently removed, allowing vital nutrients to be absorbed more easily leaving you feeling rejuvenated and healthier”.

To begin with, I filled in a form, which had a delightful array of euphemisms.

You know, like “Do you have bowel movements: daily/2-3 times daily/every 2-3 days/weekly?”, and, best of all, “Do you ever have to strain?” Yes, I thought, but only when I open our stiff garage door.

I got changed in the men’s room.

There was a plastic gown, like something you’d wear in Year Four art, and a strange paper garment. “Someone once put the paper pants on their head!” laughed Tania MacDonald, my therapist, from the next room.

I took the pants off my head, and went to the therapy couch.

I laid on my side, knees tucked up, like a polar bear shot by a tranquilliser dart. Tania – who was wonderful – explained what would happen.

To begin, she said, I’d have a coffee enema. Apparently, when coffee’s shoved up your backside, rather than down your throat, it cleanses your liver. It was time for the big moment.

“I’m just going to rip a hole in your pants,” said Tania, which might have sounded better if she hadn’t had a pipe in her hand, and medical gloves on. “A lot of people get tense and close up,” she continued. “Yep, you’re tense.” Tense? I was past tense.

Then, like a butterfly breaking from its cocoon, the pipe entered my backside. My eyes became as big as teacups. My fist clenched, and my body tensed.

But, once in – I’m reluctant to admit – it felt fine. Comfortable, almost.

The coffee shot into my system, and slalomed through my insides, whizzing round each corner.

As the coffee left, via pipe, I felt warm inside. Would have been nicer with milk, though. Still, at least it wasn’t served with a Hob-Nob.

After the starter, it was time for the main course: the colonic hydrotherapy.

The water would enter my anus, Tania said, rise through my colon, and loosen all the junk that was stuck. The water would stop being pumped, come back out, and bring the junk with it, like debris after a flood. Easy. And, best of all, Tania’s state-of-the-art machine meant I could see exactly what left.

Come on: we all take a peek before flushing anyway. Don’t we?

First up were some small, brown, lumps. Or, as they’re known, pellets.

What next? Musket balls? The water was pushed in for a minute or so, until I felt like a ready-to-burst water bomb, then left. First, it came out yellow, then brown, then dark brown.

“It’s really getting high up now,” said Tania.

There wasn’t, though, much – how can we put this? – matter. Plenty of dark water, plenty of scum, like scrapings from an old kettle, but no matter. No matter, I thought: my insides must be clean and fragrant, like a valeted car. “It’s stuck quite high up,” said Tania. Oh.

After 45 minutes of fill and drain, my irrigation was over and the pipe disposed of. The final step was more conventional: sit on the lavvy, and see what happens. “I’ll turn the music up,” said Tania. “Sometimes it’s like Niagara Falls.”

Well, it wasn’t Niagara Falls. It was Hurricane Katrina, blasting into New Orleans. I had to flush three times, in case the flood water rose too high. I could have filled three buckets.

It was watery, but there was plenty in there, like a nice summer soup.

It wouldn’t stop. After 20 minutes, if there was any faecal matter left, it deserved squatters’ rights.

TANIA’S business, the Detox Studio on Bondgate, Darlington, started offering colonic hydrotherapy six months ago. Surprisingly, 45 per cent of her customers are male. “Some are bodybuilders, coming to detox, some are boxers who need to lose weight,” says Tania, a member of the International Association for Colon Hydrotherapy.

“The majority have irritable bowel syndrome, though, and this can really help.”

Tania had bowel problems, and regular pains, until she started having colonic hydrotherapy. Now she has a colonic a month, and hasn’t looked back. “I got into offering treatment because of my problems,”

she says. “It has transformed my health. I’d be crippled on the floor, calling for an ambulance. It was almost like labour pains. Since I had the treatments, I can eat what I want – I’m fine.”

Colonic hydrotherapy isn’t as scary, or uncomfortable, as it sounds.

And, afterwards, I felt clean, light, and unblocked. My matter returned to normal quickly, and left with a minimum of fuss. A short-cut detox, without the peach tea and pulses: wonderful. Who would have thought it could be such fun?

■ Colonic hydrotherapy is £65 for one session, with a second session £60, and three for £150. Coffee enema extra. For more information, visit the Detox Studio at 38 Bondgate, Darlington, visit www.detoxstudio.co.uk, or phone 01325-464455.

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