Muscled

I'm fatigued and drained.

I carpool to the hospital with a friend. But still, it's tiring. And I wish the astronomical petrol price would go down a bit for it's placed a rather huge financial burden on me.

Otherwise, I’m having a great time in my medicine posting. Everyone in the ward seems to have a different and unique story to relate to you. Very interesting. Sufferers of acute pancreatitis will describe to you a very characteristic pain which radiates to the back from the epigastrium. Whereas, those afflicted with acute cholecystitis (inflammation of gallbladder) will give you a somewhat different account of pain.

Obtaining the history of illness from patients is something I find very fun and enjoyable. It’s more an art than a textbook sort of thing. It feels more like socializing. Nonetheless, presenting it to a specialist, during which I sometimes stammer and fluctuate between intense anticipation and fear, is a very different thing altogether.

I happened to examine a male patient with 6 packs yesterday. A fisherman. The marble contours of his perfectly muscled chest and abdomen were so dazzling that they sent my heart thudding erratically against my chest wall. His nipples, which I had a burning desire to lick, sent flickers of electricity through my body. But of course, I was self-disciplined enough to resist the temptation. I examined his abdomen twice on the pretext of confirming my clinical findings, indulging in every second of it. In actual fact, it was unnecessary. I was just being hamsap. Very unethical of me, right?