Georgetterox

Rectal toucher is exact like gelding. Nobody likes it when someone inserts his finger into your ass and scraps it until you feel like being sodomized.

My boss is insincere. She always has me to do rectal toucher everytime she wanna examine the stool of her patients. It doesn’t mean I don’t wanna help her, but I wonder, why doesn’t she do it herself? I have other things to do, don’t I? Or, is she unable to do rectal toucher?

However, I can’t refuse. I’m still subordinate. So when at ER there are three patients once complained about stomachache, I just nodded obediently when my resident told me to do rectal toucher to all of them. But it didn’t mean I was really ready to insert my finger to all of their asses. Cause one of the patients was a 64-years-old grandma, the other one was a 30-years-old mother, and the last was an half age man who’s accompanied by his own wife. I can’t geld a man’s ass at the front of his wife!

So I said to the 30-years-old momma: D’ya have any stomachache?

Her: Yes, Doc. It’s been three days.

Me: Well, I need to see what kind of bacteria inside your stool. If I’ve noticed, right I can cure you. So you need to defecate now. Here I give you a little bottle. Just go to the closet across the room, accompanied by your husband, then you defecate, and keep your stool inside this bottle. Then return it to me, when there’s your stool inside.

Her: But it’s been three days I can’t defecate, Doc. It’s very difficult..

Me: Well, if you don’t wanna defecate, excuse me, Ma’am, then I must take your stool by myself. I’ll stab your ass with this (I raise my little finger to her nose)

She gets scared at once and nodded obediently: Oh OK, Dok, I will! I’ll defecate myself!

So there my patient went with her husband to the closet. I told the same to my other patients and there they queued at the front of the closet to defecate. After they defecate, their families came to me, brought the containers with their stools inside.

Them: Doc, here it goes!

Me: In a minute, please, hold on, Sir, Ma’am!

I took the labels with their names written on, then I stick them to their containers. I gave each of them a piece of paper. I said: Here, please go to the laboratorium across, take this recommendation letter for examination. Ask him when the result’s done, then please bring the result to me.

So there they went to the laboratorium with their own stools, while I just sat on my desk by goggling at some Rontgenograms. Who says I need to do rectal toucher to examine the stools? There are always more humanitary solutions for all of our problems, aren’t they?

It smells like petee! All of us almost interspersed out from the hall of interns coz that unperfumed aroma had successfully covering the place we used to hang in when we are in a break from work. Everybody got upset, was accusing each other, was alleging each other, about who had eaten petee until unembarrassedly and unriskedly peeing in our rest room and left supersting aroma.

Baht (got mad): Gosh, who smells like this petee?

Lieph (in anger): Just shut up your mouth, you’ve made this smell!

Sieth (wrinkled): I can’t pee here, it’s so hard to put away! It didn’t smell like petee this morning, why now?

Ried (seriously): I’m suspicious. All of us weren’t here this morning, coz we join the lecture in the conference room. Well, in the middle of the lecture, I ran here coz I couldn’t stand to pee. But the rest room was locked, there was someone inside.

Me: So what?

Ried: Well, I returned to the conference room.Ten minutes later I came back here, and the room was still locked. What took that man so long for defecate? I think he’s the one who made the room smell like petee!

Me (provocating): Then we must detect now who had sneaked out of the conference room for defecate!

Rubh: Come on, than it’s so hard for us to cure the unexplained etiology, we’d rather do symptomatic therapy, it’s more efficient and it doesn’t take much time..

Me: Rubh! Didn’t you hear what our teacher has taught? We are doctors who must cure causatively, not just escaping the symptoms out!

Seph: Come on, it’s too hard for us. Listen, there’s a bottle of carbol in the nurse room. Just shower it into the closet, that’s it!

Rubh: Yep! That’s what I meant, symptomatic therapy, escaping the symptoms out!

Noe (wondering out of the rest room): Something’s weird, why doesn’t the closet smell likt petee anymore?

Baht: It still smells here!

Lieph: Gosh, I just remember! The next rest room belongs to the patients! I think the smell come from there!

Vexedly Baht and Noe detected the petee aroma by smelling around the window of the rest room that incidentally next to the hall of intern.

Baht: Gosh! You’re right! The petee smells from here!

Noe: Yeah, no wonder, the rest room belongs to the patients with kidney failure..!

All of us: Argghh…!

Ask me about the Mr Happy of men. Conveniently I will explain altogether about this thing. But do not ask me about the holy cave of women. I really know nothing at all!

My patient had to be catheterize. He had to pee via an hose and his urine had to be accomodated in a small sack so we could measure the amount of his urine. Plugging catheter is true work of nurses, but I also have to learn the tide, because as the candidate chief of hospital I should be able to do the duties of  the nurses in my subordinate. Thus tonight I learnt with a nurse about how to plug a catheter.

In the reality, plugging a catheter into Mr Happy is easy, because once you look at it, the hole is seen directly. But right when I plug the hose in, instead he screamt painfulnessly by yelling the name of God, impressing I am in pursuance of something which do not make happy him. Fortunately the urine streaming fluently into the hose. If not, I could be hung because I had gelded him.

But the problem came when I had to catheter another patient, a old grandmother. Everybody knows that women have three holes, but right when I saw her own thing, those damn holes look all the same! I pointed them with the hose, did not know which hole I would plug the hose into. Wait, this hole is for defecating, while this one is the door for the holy cave. Or exactly this another one is for that thing? Ouch, which one is that hole for pee?!

I sulk my ownself, then I called a nurse. Let the nurse do, than I misplug into the wrong one and balmy lost into the vagina. Imagine what is gonna happen if the damn hose step into the wrong hole? Is it the same as I had penetrated her? Still lucky that this is an old grandmother who probably never did that thing again, what if whom I must plug into is a young maiden girl who still virgin?

Oh God, another bomb bursts again. Not just one, even two!

Likely my head gets broken when I hear a bomb bursts in Bali. Thee victim is a hang-on café for tourists, kills 25, mostly Indonesian. Not foreigners. These bombers are really not picky. They didn’t merely take away the souls of those westerns, but also their own family.

I remember my cousin’s story when a bomb hit the Paddy’s Café three years ago. It was a night when she was laying down in her bed room, when suddenly she felt something thrilled really hard and ossified enough until she got up due to shock. She thought it was an earthquake, but likely non. A quarter hour later she heard from her neighbours, that they said there was a bomb bursts in Legian area. Even though my cousin lives in Denpasar, and it was 10 kilometres away from the occurrence place!

So now there’s a bomb again. It hits Kuta again. Kuta Square!

Kuta Square is my favorite place to hang on in Bali. Each time I come to, there’s always a day when I walk in Kuta Square in my tanktop, come in and out each shops for souvenirs. And I always come intentionally to ex-Paddy’s Café, primilage, gaze, and pray. And I always shed a tear.

It’s clear that Kuta bomb is not a childish game. The way the bomber exploded their bomb synchronized with the one in Jimbaran showed that they really desired to show up for attentions. If the bombers are not far yet from the death-duet Imam Samudra-Amrozy and friends, hence I’m not surprised. But if these people did it in the name of religion, I’d rather puke.

The image makes me embarrassed, sorrowful, and blue. Screwed up the cursed people who dared to kill innocent people in the name of jihad fisabilillah. Hopefully the death victim can be calm in the afterlife. Hopefully the wounded people can recover and not get disabled. Hopefully the families who lost their kin get patiences. And for the bombers, hopefully they are screwed in the most hurting way.