“It seems to be. I haven’t been having the side pain like usual.”
“That’s good, I still want to check things out.” Turning to me, Dr. Tinkle says, “Grab a pair of gloves.” I quickly snag a pair from the box and try to hand them to her but she shakes her head. “No, those are for you. Put them on.” From the table beside her, she grips the lube and pulls the top off. “Hold out your finger.”
What the?
In a haze, I do as she says, my finger pointing awkwardly in the air as if I have vagina lube on it. Oh wait, I do. I have freaking vagina lube on my finger. I thought I skipped the whole tunnel digging, but I guess I was wrong.
“Okay, we’re going to do a quick rectal insertion and feel around for cysts. Debra, are you ready?”
Debra nods as I attempt to interpret the word rectal.
“Emma, go ahead and stick your finger in her anus and then press down on her uterus. We are feeling for any large lumps.”
Errr . . . anus? Finger in the anus? What?
Before I can process what’s happening, Dr. Tinkle is guiding me, finger forward, lube ready, straight toward the spread of Debra’s legs. I don’t want to be doing this; I don’t want my finger up someone’s ass, especially Debra’s, who seems like she’s ready to eat my finger through her rectum. Knowing I shouldn’t have a grossed-out look on my face—doesn’t seem like the right thing—I impersonate a psychotic clown instead: mentally scary smiling eyes fixed on Debra’s asshole plunging forward.
The insertion is just as I expected, dreadful beyond belief.
Dr. Tinkle guides my other hand where I press down on Debra’s uterus.
“Do you feel anything?” Dr. Tinkle asks.
Besides Debra clenching so damn hard on my finger that I’m starting to lose feeling in it? Not so much.
“Uh, seems okay to me.”
She really needs to unclench because the sensation of her butt trying to slice off my finger is completely freaking me out right now. “Debra, I think it might help if you relax a little,” I suggest, praying for the throbbing in my finger to stop from lack of circulation.
“How can I relax when you have your finger up my butt and a demonic smile on your face?”
Dr. Tinkle quickly looks at me to see the smile being wiped away from my face.
“Why were you smiling at her?” Dr. Tinkle asks, a little upset.
Finger still in Debra’s ass, I look back and forth between the two women, not quite sure how to answer this question. “Uh, I didn’t want things to be weird, so I smiled to help Debra feel at ease. You know, good bedside manner and all.”
Good save. Buyable for sure.
Dr. Tinkle grips my shoulder and lectures me. “Emma, when we have to do evasive exams on patients, we try to keep a controlled neutral face, especially when the patient is nervous. You never want to make them more uncomfortable.” Controlled neutral face. Right.
I nod. “Okay, but don’t you think we should be having this conversation when my finger isn’t up the patient’s rectum?”
Debra sits up on her elbows and looks at both Dr. Tinkle and me, her boobs flopping around past the “garment” she’s wearing. “Dr. Tinkle, I don’t care for this nursing student very much, but she has a point. Maybe she can remove her finger and you guys can have this conversation without me in the room.”
Without Dr. Tinkle’s permission, I remove my finger—from the horrible shackles it was bound to—and hold it by my side, finger still pointed. Turning to Dr. Tinkle, I bow—no idea why, it just happened—and I say, “Thank you for this experience, but I think it’s safe to say I won’t be investing any more time into the OBGYN field.” Turning to Debra, I curtsey—because why the hell not—only seems fitting with what we just went through together, and I leave the room.
I’m going to have to do some serious extra credit to make up for today. Not to mention, some brain and finger bleaching. I’m tainted for life.
No pun intended.
***
“I’ve never seen anything like it. It was disgusting.”
I hold up my hand, willing Adalyn to stop. “I love you, Adalyn, I really do, but if you continue to talk about your patient’s neck goiter, I might seriously throw up on you.”
I sit back on my bed and take a deep breath. What a rough fucking day. After I ran like hell out of the OBGYN wing of the hospital, I spent the rest of my afternoon in the cafeteria studying with Logan who would not stop laughing over my finger in the butt misery.
And then there was last night, when I couldn’t stop calling Tucker “thick dick.” Ughhhh, why did he have to come downstairs in his tight black briefs that showcased everything he has to offer? I’ve never been one for briefs on a man, but HOLY HELL Tucker is an exception. It was almost like he was naked standing in front of me, that expansive, muscular chest rippling with every movement he made, those abs contracting when he bent down to look at my foot, and that deep V in his waistline. I was a goner. There was no stopping myself from staring. And there sure as hell was no stopping myself from dreaming about him last night. Oh, the things that passed through my mind. I woke up horny, embarrassed, and on edge. But most importantly, I woke up guilty. Guilty for checking out the one man I should stay away from, the one man who is completely off-limits.
Now Adalyn won’t stop talking about the goiter guy, which is frankly disturbing. It’s a goiter; it’s disgusting, let’s not talk about the ins and outs of it. (Pukes in mouth.)
Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was getting into when it came to earning a nursing degree but there are some days I wish I was doing something else, something less disgusting where bodily fluids and human deformities aren’t surrounding me. Perhaps something like accounting instead. Accounting sounds really nice right about now. Safe, easy, a job full of numbers instead of protective gloves and lube.
“Are you still upset about the butt thing?” Adalyn asks.
I wipe both my hands down my face. “I just need a break from anything that has to do with nursing. It’s been a rough day.”
Adalyn tosses me another fudge-stripe cookie—thank you, Keebler, for these delightful treats—and pops another in her mouth. She likes to take the whole cookie down at once where as I like to wear them daintily on my finger like a ring and slowly nibble.
“Sticking a finger up an unwilling asshole does seem like a rough one. So I’m guessing we won’t be doing any studying.”
I shake my head. “Not so much. My mind is fried.” I take a little bite off my cookie and ask, “Anything new with you? Did you ever go on that date with beard-man Bradley? Is that what he called himself on his profile?”
Adalyn giggles and nods. “Oh beard-man. He’s quite the charmer online, but in person, kind of a dud. But I will say, his beard was something to marvel at. He must condition it at least twice a day. It looked so soft, like the hair of a pussy . . . cat.”
“Why did you have to say it like that?” I shake my head at my friend.