What Actually Gets Stuck: Rectal Foreign Bodies, and Why There Is No World Record

Type this question into a search engine and you will get numbers. Confident, specific, frequently grotesque numbers, presented as records.

They are not records. There is no world record for this, because no organisation adjudicates one.

We looked. We could not find any Guinness World Records category for objects retrieved from a rectum. What it does return are adjacent records that get misquoted into this shape — the largest foreign object left in a patient, which is a pair of artery forceps measuring 33.02cm left in a woman's abdomen during a caesarean section in 1989 and found four years later. That is a surgical error, in an abdomen. It is not this, and it is not self-inserted.

So the premise of the question is false. Which is a shame for trivia and excellent for everything else, because the real literature is genuinely useful — and unlike a fake record, it might keep someone out of an operating theatre.

What Actually Exists

Rectal foreign bodies have a substantial, unglamorous clinical literature going back decades. Surgeons have been writing these cases up carefully for a long time.

The classic reference is Busch and Starling's 1986 paper in Surgery, Rectal foreign bodies: case reports and a comprehensive review of the world's literature. It reports two surgical cases and tabulates 182 previous cases from the literature by type and number of objects recovered, with discussion of age distribution, complications and prognosis. Note what that paper is: a tabulation, compiled to understand patterns. Nobody was keeping score.

More recent work includes Cologne and Ault's review Rectal Foreign Bodies: What Is the Current Standard? in Clinics in Colon and Rectal Surgery, and the open-access StatPearls chapter Rectum Foreign Body Removal, last updated in July 2025, which is the most accessible current summary.

For scale, a 2023 Cureus paper reviewed ten years of the US National Electronic Injury Surveillance System and identified 1,806 emergency department visits meeting its inclusion criteria, with the incidence rising from 144 in 2012 to 236 in 2021. A larger national figure circulates online; it is a weighted extrapolation from a different paper we could not open, so we are printing only the number we actually read.

Why Things Get Stuck

This is physics and anatomy, not misadventure, and understanding it explains why self-rescue fails.

The rectum is not a straight tube. It has transverse folds of its own, known as the valves of Houston. An object that travels past these is no longer sitting on a straight path to the exit.

Grip is the problem. Once an object is inside, there is little to hold — the Swedish series on retained sex toys (below) named "difficulty in grasping the objects endoluminally" as the recurring problem. Hospitals keep a toolkit for exactly this: Yildiz and colleagues list bimanual pressure on the abdominal wall, grasping with forceps, manipulation with a Foley catheter, magnets for metal objects and rectosigmoidoscopy as complementary techniques for removal from below.

The sphincter spasms. The internal anal sphincter is not under voluntary control. Repeated and vigorous removal attempts cause distress, pain and involuntary anorectal spasm, which Yildiz and colleagues name as the main reason bedside attempts fail. So the harder someone tries, the more securely the exit closes. This is why hospitals use anaesthesia or sedation: the same authors describe sedation as essential for successful removal from below.

Put those three together and you have an object behind a fold, hard to grip, behind a muscle that clamps harder the more you struggle with it. That is not a situation that rewards persistence.

Why Self-Removal Makes It Worse

The published literature is unambiguous. Forceful and repeated efforts without sphincter relaxation give rise to proximal migration of objects and unwanted complications such as rectal perforation, and unsuccessful attempts are the main reason for delayed hospital admission and for complications such as perforation, peritonitis and perirectal or perianal sepsis.

StatPearls puts the same point plainly: patients may attempt self-extraction before obtaining medical attention, which not only delays appropriate management but may also increase the risk of mucosal injury or deeper impaction.

Two specific ways it goes wrong:

• The object migrates. Every failed grab pushes it a little further, past the curve, further from anything reachable.
• The tissue gets injured. Self-extraction attempts may increase the risk of mucosal injury and deeper impaction, and surgeons are warned to watch for serious anorectal injuries and later problems such as anal incontinence, fistulas and stenosis.

Almost everybody tries first. One series noted that all patients came to the emergency room because they were unable to remove the objects on their own. The attempt is normal. Continuing past the point where it is clearly not working is where harm enters.

Delay Is the Actual Danger

The object is rarely the emergency. The hours spent not going to hospital are.

The literature is consistent and sympathetic about why. Patients are often embarrassed and may seek to conceal the true nature of their visit. Because of the stigma they delay seeking care, and on arrival many hesitate to disclose the cause, instead reporting nonspecific complaints such as rectal bleeding, pain or constipation. That concealment causes a second delay — a clinician investigating unexplained rectal pain is not looking for what is actually there.

The cost of that delay is specific. StatPearls lists the serious complications of a retained object as rectal or colonic perforation, haemorrhage, bowel obstruction, mucosal necrosis and infection. Delayed recognition or removal increases the likelihood of these outcomes and may result in surgical intervention or sepsis.

Reported delays vary widely: one Turkish surgical series found a median of 16 hours from insertion to presentation (range 1 to 60 hours), while StatPearls notes that some people delay for several days or even weeks. We are not going to average those into a single figure, because they are different populations measured differently.

One thing we will not do is quote a death rate. The case series we read report no deaths — which does not mean the risk is zero, but it does mean nobody should be inventing a mortality figure. Perforation, peritonitis and sepsis are the honest stakes, and they are serious enough without embellishment.

What the Hospital Actually Does

Knowing this in advance removes a lot of the dread, and the dread is what causes the delay.

Cologne and Ault summarise the approach as fourfold: a careful history and physical examination, a high index of suspicion for any evidence of perforation, a creative approach to non-operative removal, and appropriate short-term follow-up to detect any delayed perforation.

In practice:

• History and examination. What the object is, how many, size and shape. This is why honesty matters enormously — the answer changes the plan. They have seen it before. It is a Tuesday.
• Imaging. X-rays to locate the object, and a chest X-ray to look for free air under the diaphragm indicating perforation.
• Transanal removal. The first-line approach, under sedation or anaesthesia to relax the sphincter. Yildiz and colleagues report success in up to 90 percent of their operating-room cases; bedside or emergency-room attempts have reported success rates of about 16 to 75 percent.
• Endoscopic help. In the Turkish series, a colonoscope assisted removal under anaesthesia in 8 of 21 patients.
• Surgery as last resort. Reserved largely for perforation, peritonitis or failed extraction from below.

On what happens afterwards: Yildiz and colleagues state that after a difficult extraction the lining of the rectum and lower colon has to be examined with rectosigmoidoscopy to judge the extent of injury and exclude perforation, and Cologne and Ault add appropriate short-term follow-up to detect any delayed perforation.

The One Rule That Prevents All of This

Anything that goes in the anus needs a flared base or a retrieval cord. That is the whole prevention strategy.

A wide base or a cord leaves something outside to hold, which is exactly what the surgical series found missing. The Cureus review found the most commonly retained items were massage devices and vibrators.

There is a clinical paper making precisely this argument, and its title says it all: Dahlberg and colleagues, Retained sex toys: an increasing and possibly preventable medical condition, in the International Journal of Colorectal Disease, 2019. Sex toys accounted for 41% of retained objects in their series. Two patients needed a stoma because of rectal injury. And the authors' conclusion is the whole prevention strategy in one sentence: "a safety string or adequate-sized stopper potentially could have prevented retaining the dildos, since a recurring problem was difficulty in grasping the objects endoluminally."

Note the clinical wording — a stopper or retrieval string, which is what the retail term "flared base" is describing. Note too that the authors put it as a hypothesis rather than a proven intervention. That is still the best-evidenced prevention advice available, and it costs nothing to follow.

Which means a large share of these cases — sex toys were 41% of retained objects in that series — could plausibly be prevented by a single purchasing decision. Not by restraint, not by abstinence — by buying the right shape of object. Our sex toy guide covers what body-safe and properly-based actually look like, and the prostate guide covers the rest of the safety picture, including why lubricant is not optional.

The other half of prevention is simply not improvising. Household objects have no flared base and are often fragile.

If It Happens

Go to A&E. Today. Now, in fact.

Do not spend six hours trying. Do not use an implement. Do not wait to see whether it passes on its own — the anatomy above explains why that is not how it works.

Tell the truth at the desk. Emergency departments see this regularly; it is a recognised clinical presentation with an established management algorithm and a StatPearls chapter. What they cannot do is treat something they have not been told about, and the nonspecific-symptom route wastes exactly the time that determines whether this ends as an outpatient story or a laparotomy.

The genuinely useful companion to this is sexual health: when to seek help, which covers the point at which embarrassment costs more than a hospital visit. On prevention rather than treatment, the best sex toys for couples covers base design and materials, and how to choose a lube that will not wreck your condom covers the other half. For more medical folklore checked against the literature, can semen in your eyes blind you and the prostate, explained.

That is the actual takeaway, and it is more useful than any number a listicle could offer you: the outcome here is determined almost entirely by how quickly someone swallows their embarrassment. The object is a solvable problem. Delay is the thing that turns it into a dangerous one.