Rubber Glove Seduction
I figured that after 25 years of schooling and a few more years in the hell they call residency training would earn me some special privileges. I thought that perhaps that earning a few sheets of paper and a couple of extra initials after my name would change my life significantly. Well, it did but in the most unexpected way: I get to touch other men's peenies on a regular basis.
Yep, all that fancy book learnin' earned me the right to look at--nay to even touch another man's wedding tackle. And women too, let's not forget about them women, y'all. I get access to the holiest of holies too. Men and women come to me and willingly disrobe to let me survey their special areas. On occasion, they pay me for the privilege too. They should, I'm good at it. I don't forget the step-children and lesbians love me. You might call me the total package. I do.
Last night I got the opportunity to show off my virtuosity at handling the twig and berries. A nurse paged me to tell me that a patient had gotten confused and agitated. And despite his restraints, he managed to pull out his urinary catheter. With the balloon still inflated. Oh, and by the way it was stuck in his penis. They couldn't deflate it for some reason and wanted to know what to do next. Hmm. A call to Urology might have been warranted--for lessor pole vaulters.
Upon arrival, I briefly interviewed the patient and surveyed the situation. Using my special skills, I lifted his gown to see that indeed the catheter was stuck. The balloon would not deflate, just as advertised. Hey, you gotta be sure.
I wasn't sure what to do next, but then inspiration hit me. I recalled a story that K told me about her residency, when a surgery residency mistakenly put a venous catheter into an artery. She paged the vascular fellow for help and after much brow beating and arguing about the possibility/impossibility of it being so, he finally came to the bedside. When he arrived, sure enough it was misplaced. After a bit of reflection, he just yanked it out and that was that. That guy had had some cast-iron cajones.
Not to be out done, I grabbed his shaft. I palpated it a bit to find the balloon. With the other hand, I tugged on the catheter. It was reluctant, as they all can be the first time around. But with gentle reassurance and some massaging, it relented. I was able then, to stroke and pull harder. The frequency and rhythm increased until it reached the apex. At that point I knew that I had to go for it and with one last, firm yank it came. I was also rewarded with a golden-pink shower for my efforts. We were both still heaving and exhausted when I asked the nurse to insert another one. She was amazed that I could dislodge it. I wanted to yell that I was the CLIT Commander, but that would not be apropos for many reasons, no clits being involved being just one of them.
Today, I'm interviewing with a consulting agency. The hospital hired them to assess whether or not graduate medical education was feasible at our institution. I wonder if I shouldn't tell them this story. It'd probably be more relevant than what I was planning to tell them: that I take the software specifications from the customers and take them to the engineers. Yeah, that would much better. Who knows? It might even earn me a new job. I might even get to do scat play then.