The penis factor...

...is something I don't think I'll ever understand. I mean, I understand the concept of the penis... and it's biological and ...um... pleasurable necessity. But seriously, isn't it rather disturbing to have an independent appendage that dominates your thoughts and actions and perhaps even your life the way it tends to do?

My first unpleasant encounter was about 5 years ago, during my first clinical appointment. I was examining this guy for varicose veins, and he kept asking weird questions such as whether his VVs had been caused by too much sex, whether the surgery would affect his sex life and how he was very active in that department and how much his wife complained. Engrossed as I was with trying to figure out where exactly the incompetent veins were, I merely made several soothing comments such as "don't worry, no of course not" etc. My clinical train of thought was rudely interrupted when his erection became so obvious that I couldn't possibly miss it. Eeeeuw. Utterly flustered, I snapped "get your clothes back on" and fled the ward.

Since then I've been resigned to the fact that as a female in the medical profession I'm likely to have the random patient drop his pants / raise his sarong in the ward, in the clinic and occasionally even on the corridor, usually accompanied by the words "nona meka poddak balanna" (Ma'm, have a look at this). Last week though was more trying than usual, hence this post.

A well known drunkard from the outskirts of Colombo was in our ward, after being assaulted by a gang of equally inebriated fellow drinkers. So there he was, on a bed, trying to look pathetic and failing miserably... and everytime a female went by his bed, this guy would reach under his sarong and start wanking away. Now, since our ward has 3 lady doctors, 5 nurses and about half a dozen student nurses walking around, this would happen every 10 minutes or so. Finally, after the poor nurse who was giving him injections came back looking absolutely nauseated, I asked a couple of attendants to tie his hands to the bars of the bed. Soon afterwards, his family requested that he be transferred to a health facility close to his home and we were only too happy to comply. Good riddance!

The casualty also saw this guy who for some unexplained reason had tied what looked suspiciously like a pirith noola around his penis! By the time he came, that ridiculous piece of thread had been there for a couple of weeks and the organ was swollen, rotting and stinking to high heaven. Our conversation went something like this...

Me : why did you tie that piece of thread?

Patient : I just felt like it Nona

Me : were you trying to sustain an erection?

Patient : no no, I don't do those bad things Nona

Me : why didn't you come any sooner??

Patient : only now it began to hurt Nona

Me : (silent scream of frustration)

The Registrar took one look and said we'd have to amputate, but as the patient was not fasting, we were told to just take him to the OT and cut the thread off, and prepare for surgery the following day. The pleasant task of breaking the news to the patient and getting consent for amputation of the penis was allocated to me. The thread duly came off and P. Nonis, as he jokingly became known as to the senior doctors, (read - No Penis - pathetic medical joke but it did sound funny at that time), was told to be ready for surgery the next day. Morning dawned and the patient was missing from the ward. Much hullabaloo, calls to the hospital police post and paper work to be sent to the Director's office. Goodness knows what happened to the poor fellow. Hopefully, that thing would fall off because if it stays attached for much longer, he'd get blood poisoning and die.

Finally, a 17 year old kid was admitted in the wee hours of the morning, complaining of pain in his weewee. I came to the ward, bleary eyed and started clerking. Apparently he had had sex with his 16 year old girlfriend 2 days ago, forgotten to pull back the foreskin and was now having pain and swelling "down there". Of course, he had to wait till 2.30am to come to hospital. I was more concerned about the girl. Had they used a condom? No. Did he have any idea what part of the cycle she was in? No. Could she be pregnant? Shrug. Apparently "she is a poor girl and has lots of family problems... that's why I was with her". I failed to understand how a possible pregnancy would improve this girl's prospects.

Getting his foreskin back in place was no picnic. Liberal amounts of anaesthetic gel were used... he thrashed around, arms and legs flailing... reinforcements were called... but in a few minutes, things were back to normal. I waited till morning to give that boy a large and nasty piece of my mind. If he thinks he's old enough to screw around, then he's old enough to be responsible about it.

Hopefully, next week will be more routine and have less ickyness all around. All in all, even you guys out there must admit that I have some justification for my rants! :)