Puss. (Boots Sold Separately)
That said, there's still no excuse for being a pussy.
Case in point, last week I was part-way through a two week rotation in a secondary ER ("secondary" because it is where they send people who shouldn't actually be coming to the ER in the first place, but that's another topic entirely), when I met a middle-aged white male (we'll call him Mr. Ihave Nopenis to maintain his anonymity) of dubious merit and even dubious-er manhood. I talked with him briefly, discovering that he had an infected lesion on his abdomen that was, per his description, exquisitely painful. So painful, in fact, that he hadn't slept in three days, often could not stand up because of the pain, and was utterly debilitated. So debilitated, in fact, that he could not perform his duties at his job as a nurses assistant (I'm not touching that one with a ten foot pole). I lifted his shirt while he winced in pain, discovering a small, 0.5 cm black lesion with a bit of reddness surrounding it. It looked much like an ingrown hair follicle that had become infected, which was, in fact, the final diagnosis as well. I gently touched it (gloves on, of course), and he yelped violently. Look, just give me some pain meds and cut it out. I know what you need to do...I'm a nurse, alright. Just cut it out.
A few minutes later Mr. Nopenis was transported to the procedure room for a routine incision and drainage, and when I found him he was already laying down, moaning in pain. When are you going to do this...c'mon already! The ER attending and I washed up, put on some gloves, and started the procedure. It began by placing a sterile drape over the region we were going to cut. Ow! Ow ow ow ow. Then, we cleaned up the lesion with some Beta-dyne. OH MY GOD THAT IS SO COLD AHHHHHH! OWWWWW! At this point, the attending gave me a look, one of those "This guy sucks" looks (likely resembling the look Kevin Federline receives when he encounters...well...anyone). Next, we had to inject the region with lidocaine to numb everything up, you know, for the pain and all. I wielded the syringe that Mr. Nopenis must have seen out of the corner of his eye, because he started hyperventilating and screaming. Oh NO! Ahhhh! I started injecting, first superficial, then deep, while he Oooh-ed and Ahhh-ed, but I made sure to inject everything in rapidly so as to avoid the pain of listening to him moan any longer.
Unfortunately, Nopenis had other thoughts in mind, because an entire minute after we had finished providing the anesthesia, poking around his lesion multiple times to make sure he could not feel anything, he yelped out. Have you finished with the needle yet?!? I responded in the affirmative. Ahhh...SHIT, well why didn't you TELL me?!? Owwwwwww!
He began moaning again, screaming in agony every few moments, usually coinciding with when we would make any motion that vaguely resembled one approaching his mild lesion. Interestingly, when I actually made the incision, slicing right through his wound and squeezing hard to express the miniscule amount of pus trapped therein, he was completely and utterly silent, complacent and carefree, as if he couldn't see what was going on and didn't have any cues to scream at.
After cleaning up, we gently removed the sterile gown. Ooooooaaawwwoooooohhhhh!!!
Walking out of the room, I couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Nopenis's deal was. Why was he so sensitive? How could he possibly have felt so much pain at such inappropriate times? What were his real fears, given that he was a nurse who should have known what was going on? How loose was his vagina?
Unforunately, none of these questions were answered then, and they remain a mystery now. Pain is a mysterious entity, crippling to some, a crutch to others, constant and unnerving to many. But for Ihave Nopenis, it is none of these things. Instead, it is merely a means for him to express his inner pussy.