CHAPTER THREE
There was speculation flying over how this was going to be handled. Which, as it turned out, was an interesting choice of words describing the treatment settled on eventually. There will always be a few wise cracks about "taking matters in hand" and "finding the right touch" as Noah's case is remembered by the people involved. This, after all, is the stuff dreams and TV sitcoms are made of and there's a very good reason for that: it's entertaining. You can argue with anything except fascination. The reason you can't disagree is you can't get any one's attention long enough to insert a contrary opinion. Surgery, as much as people outside the medical community might like to believe contrary, is not the favored or the first choice in a majority of cases treated in the hospital. a certain number of people might roll down that hallway and find themselves in a freezing cold pre-op room, dealing with a warm-blooded interns with warn hands and fresh haircuts, every one looking all the world like they had just walked in from a spa. It happens. It's part of the business.
Whenever possible, they like to find ways around it, though. For any number of reasons. In some cases, and Noah's certainly fell well within this guideline, the doctor is thinking of the comfort of the patient. The long term. What they might be comfortable with going down the road from this moment. It was the damnedest thing and both doctors headed in from the fairway were of the same mind here, a patient all too often hears the word scalpel and genitalia mentioned in the same sentence and are instantly lost in the taboo world of castration. Something about guys, in general. They all sense that when it comes right down to it, they're not a whole hell of a lot different from the sheep that are docked in the early spring. Poor bastards, thinking they're all just lined up for a shave and POW! Pop a tag in their ear like a child's idea of jewelry and never even say thanks for dropping a pair on their way out the chute.
Maybe it was less obvious to the sheep but it couldn't have been less important. These things matter and as they roused Noah, slowly prompting him back in to sathe world of the living with ammonia inhalants and a cold damp washrag or two, the members of his medical team were aware of and sensitive to his awkward position. They had a number of treatments options they intended to present to him as soon as he was conscious; things he could chose to do. There was just as many things he could not chose to do, some of them near and obvious, like roll order or model underwear. Both were off the list for obvious reasons. The largest (this is just so open to puns, isn't it?) action completely off the table at this point was to do nothing. That wasn't a choice any longer. If this went any longer it would prove more than just a little embarrassing and uncomfortable. He was two shakes and a spin away from excruciating pain, which would lead very short to necrotic flesh, eventually ushering in gangrene. This wasn't a pretty course for any part of the human but particularly intolerable for this choice appendage. He was going to have to decide so they could get started.
"What was the last one," Noah asked.
"What I just listed? The last of the current choices," the surgeon asked in return.
Noah nodded, grimacing from the way the motion was transmitted down his torso and started his organ whipping like a CB aerial in open space.
"Ahhh. Umm huh," the surgeon, offering a conclusion when none had been sought. Just more information, please.
"That's a good one. Easy and hopefully it will do the trick."
"Rubbing?"
"Manipulation," the Doctor replied, correcting him. "We think there's a good chance this will do the trick. If we're able to secure a bit of...relief, the blood might reverse, draining without the aid of drugs or surgery."
"That's the best?"
"You'll have to decide that for yourself. I can't really tell you which course you should pick. I can advise."
"And you're advising....what? That," Noah asked.
The doctor was blocking Noah's view of the hallway but even over his shoulder or through his bent elbows, he could see the traffic of nurses passing by. They were all sort of cute in that porn gone straight to video production sort of way. Each looking squeaky Phisoderm clean and hinting at being more attractive in their regular street clothes, or out of the scrubs, whichever. Noah was already leaning (There it is again) toward the least invasive procedures as the first step and seeing a cute little blond practically skipping by with a shiny stethoscope slung around her neck. Both the instrument and the neck couldn't have been older than 22, combined. Yes. This was something that he thought might work, alright. If the entire point was getting the pressure relieved and that was arrived at by removing the sensation, then maybe somebody had better roll up their sleeves and get to work?
"It's the easiest, if you're up to it."
Smile. The doctor checked the clock on the wall and did the math. The episode, including the original discovery on the scene, the diagnosis offered while enroute in the ambulance and time expended rallying the doctors and reviewing treatment options, had now stretched into its third hour. There was no time to waste.
"Yeah."
"Yeah?" The doctor was echoing his comment to acquire assent. A "yeah" in his business was a less than affirmative and there was still a mountain of paperwork to be drilled through, signing and counter-signing to lower the risk of liability.
"Yeah. Let's do it. That one. I'm ready."
Noah was expecting to be a little bit embarrassed when the treatment started but was doing what he was able to to relax. This was not something he was adept at and the alcohol in his system tended to confuse any comforting thoughts before he was able to curl up and plunge into them. The doctor stepped back in quickly, poised like he had no intention of even pausing on his journey.
"The nurse. We're going to get Margaux in here quickly. I want you to let her know if she's doing anything to cause you more discomfort. You understand?," he asked, pausing to look for a nod from Noah's head. "I don't want anything forceful. Nothing too hard (SMILE) or brisk. We're trying to help you ejaculate and release so your penis will open up. The valve should be ready and when the stimulus is removed I'm expecting...we're expecting to see a much more calm and composed organ than we're looking at, right now."
Which he was doing, just like everybody had been doing since he'd been in the emergency room. Noah was aware but had settled into it by now and wasn't particularly concerned. His hardon had begun to assume the functional aspects of a right front tire that had gone bad and was going to need repair. All the experts had tested it and agreed it had to be done. The air had to be let out of this one before there was real trouble on the road. Okay. He was ready for this to start winding down and take a turn towards the sideline.
Then Margaux appeared. A large Filipino R.N. with thighs just about the size of a side of beef. This woman was so big she needed her own room and her patients could approach through an open window. She was large enough her arrival forced the doctor out, expelling him like a tiny boat floating on the surface of a wading pool, being swept over the side. Noah hadn't turned around to look at her. Didn't have time. She was all about work and this was one job she wasn't going to be wasting any more energy on that it deserved. She had the situation well in hand.
Abigal heard the scream as she corssd the floor from the nurses' station and exited through the automatic doors. She stopped just long enough to be certain the racket was coming from the room she'd last she her charge in. It was.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment