For Safe Keeping

He skated into my room with his hair disheveled and his hands waving wildly. For a moment I thought he was Kramer from an old a Seinfeld episode. His lips moved erratically as he gasped for breath.

Doc...doc you got a help me!

I motioned him into a chair. As his backside was about to touch the seat he bolted upright. He stood with one arm resting on his hip and the other holding him steady against the desk. His eyes squinted in pain. A drop of sweat formed at his hairline.

What happened to you?

As I asked his face turned from pain to humiliation. His voice lowered and he strained to lean closer. He looked up at the door cautiously to make sure that it was closed.

Doc I got a chicken bone!

He must of recognized the confusion in my facial expression because his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He looked like a poor school teacher forced to explain yet again to his substandard students the difference between a noun and a verb.

Jeeeeeez, I got a chicken bone stuck up my ass.

I almost fell off my chair. I turned my head and bit my lip. Anything to avoid breaking into peels of laughter.

Upon regaining composure I turned back toward him again.

Surely your wrong! A hemorrhoid? An abscess? Some left over toilet paper?

He was losing patience quickly. He gritted his teeth in a last effort to control his emotions.

I know what I know. Last night I ate chicken and this morning I got a chicken bone stuck up my ass. Are you going to take it out or what?

With that he dropped his pants, turned around, and leaned forward against the exam table. I cleared my throat and took a step backwards.

Um...Um....I better get some gloves for this one.

I adjusted the exam light over his behind and pulled my stool closer to take a peak. Apparently he enjoyed the warmth because he moved his torso from side to side in mock pleasure.

And there it was. A minuscule shaft of pearly bone with a forking arm wedged perfectly in his rectum. With forceps in hand I gently coaxed the obstruction free. I could hear the sigh of relief escape form the other side of of my precariously perched patient.

I laid the product of my excavation indignantly on the tray and turned to leave the exam room.

No more chicken for you I called over my shoulder as I gathered my computer and raced toward the door. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him grab a tissue and grasp the bone between two fingers.

He then put it into his pocket...

for safe keeping.