- I feel so happy to have the possibility to spend the weekend out of the city.
I’ve always thought my biggest dream in life was to build a successful career in Rome as a famous doctor but I’m wondering if it’s just the result of a system who brings us to be robotic workaholics…I enjoy the countryside so much, I don’t think I’ll ever give up on this. Also, I belong to the mountains. Hopefully I’ll find a balanced way to enjoy nature and be present for my family and also be a successful ENT doctor. Priorities, right?
This weekend I’m staying at my friend’s house so it’s getting a little bit more difficult to focus, but I woke up this morning at 5:30 AM so I still have some few more hours left before they wake up.
Thank god, the doctor would see me. A Sunday afternoon and I have to go and hurt myself in a knockdown touch-football game. Dr. John’s office seemed to be empty when I got there. I called out for him from the reception room and he appeared from around the corner. Dr. John was in his mid thirties and looked like he worked out every day. Although, he had on his official white jacket, he was also sporting a tee shirt and gray sweats underneath. His face was dark from the black bristles of an unshaven beard. Tall, dark and handsome.
“Sorry about the sweats,” Dr. John apologized. “I rushed over as soon as I got your call.” “No problem,” I said. (I thought to myself - I could help you take them off if you feel so apologetic about wearing those form fitting sweats!) I could only imagine what he would like with those gray sweats down around his ankles. I felt a stirring in my loins. I too apologized for my unkept appearance as I was still dressed for football. I was sweaty and muddy from all the rough housing. My shorts were torn from the fall.
He led me to the examining room. “Why don’t you remove those clothes and wash up. There’s a hand shower in the corner. I want to get a good look at that wound.” He pulled out my chart as I began to remove the sweaty shirt from my body. I slide off my shorts, leaving me in my sweaty jock strap. The doc glanced over. “You might as well take it all off. We need to rinse you down. I’ll lend you some clothes once I’ve deemed my patient fit to leave my office,” he said with a smile. I quickly removed the strap as I apologized to him for being such an inconvenience on this damp, Sunday afternoon.
I walked over the corner to the hand shower. Almost immediately, he was there right beside me, to show me how to adjust the water. “Its easier if someone holds the faucet then you can use both hands to scrub up.” I reached for the soap and begin to lather up my chest. I was dirty. I lathered up my armpits, the dark hair poking out through the suds. I slowly worked my way down to my groin. I begin to lather up that big patch of hair. I was feeling much better. I became engrossed in my shower as I began to caress my body. Soaping up my hairy balls, lathering my shaft, easing the bar of soap between my hairy crack. I was just beginning to work my finger into my joy hole when I realized I wasn’t at home.
The doc realized my embarrassment and laughed, “Glad you’re so relaxed and feeling at home.” I quickly finished. He handed me a towel and led me back to the table. I was still feeling a bit aroused.
He told me that he needed to do some routine items first and then he’d look at my injury. First, he had me jump on the scale and then he jotted down something on my chart. “You’re a good weight, nice and lean for your height. And from a glance, I don’t see much body fat.” Next, he needed to check my temperature. He asked me to lean against the table. I must have looked somewhat confused as he then explained that only rectal thermometers gave the most accurate reading. And he needed me to lean over so he had good access to my freshly showered bottom. I started to protest but he would have none of it. He motioned me to turn around and lean over. As I bent over the metal examining table I felt a gob of vaseline and a big fat finger slide into my butthole. He moved his finger slowly around making it nice and greasy. It was hot. His warm finger probing my hole. I wanted to respond but I kept my cool. I felt my dick start to come to life but ignored its throb. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination but he seemed to slide his finger in and out a few times, like he was pumping it with his finger. He then slowly slid his finger out and slowly poked the thermometer into my crack. He patted my butt and said this will be over in a second. I didn’t mind the wait. My dick was throbbing but I didn’t want him to see my erection. He finally pulled out the thermometer and said it was normal.
Then he told me to lie on the table while he checked my pressure points. He needed to do the old reliable hernia check as well. I hesitated. I knew he would see my throbbing dick and I was embarrassed. “Up on the table,” he coaxed me. I slowly turned around and hopped on the table, my purple head throbbing at full mast. “Well, I guess I did say ‘up’ on the table. That is definitely up,” he grinned. He told me not to be embarrassed about such a natural thing. “We all get hardons.” He joked that the best thing about being a guy is pumping your dick and shooting your load. "It looks pretty healthy to me.“ I just mumbled about how it had a mind of its own as I layed out flat on the table.
He slowly checked my pressure points, tapping at my elbows and knees. “Spread your legs just a little,” he directed. “Time for the old hernia cough routine.” He pressed his fingers under my balls and made me cough. He then began to examine my balls, one by one. He squeezed and tugged on them. It actually felt good. “We might as well make it a thorough exam,” he said. He continued with the tugging and squeezing, asking if I felt any pain. He then started examining the shaft, squeezing and tugging. My dick started to throb even more in reaction to his touch. He begin to stroke it and seemed interested as the uncut foreskin moved up and down over the head of my cock. “It’s pretty big. Have you ever taken the proper measurements of this gland?” “Not really,” I replied. He pulled out a tape measure and began to check it’s length and girth. “For it to be really accurate, it must be really aroused.” He started stroking my cock really rough and my dick rose to attention. It was pounding. Precum was oozing at the slit of my purple dickhead. He started measure every aspect of my hard cock. “That is definitely a solid steel firearm,” he commented, “but can it shoot? We want to make sure there’s no blockage of any kind. I’ll need to see you shoot a load to make sure it’s all clear.” He indicated to me to start working on my shaft. I started stroking hard while he also probed at my balls and dickhead. He occasionally slid his finger into my hole. I was completely aroused. My dick was moist with all the precum seeping from the top of my dick. My balls were aching to shoot the load. He squeezed my balls hard while he shoved a finger in my ass. I shot a major load all over my belly. My hand, stomach and dick were covered in hot, sticky cum.
“Nice load,” he remarked. “You could almost call that a river! You’re load shot very nicely on your belly and I’m happy with the thickness of your cum.” He leaned down close to my dick and belly and dipped his finger in the cum. He took a big whiff of my cum and commented on how fresh it smelled.
“Every man shots his load differently, did you know that?” he asked me. I didn’t know how to answer. “You should learn from your doctor,” he continued. “You should be familiar with how the cock works. Since you just shot a load, we’ll need for it to reload itself.” He then slid his hands into his sweats and pulled out his cock. He began to show me how the head was sensitive. He made me squeeze and pull on his dick to bring it to erection. He had a big, hairy dick. It also had precum oozing from the head. He made me put it in my mouth to see how a warm cock felt. He began to pump my face with his dick, his balls slapping on my chin. He started pumping faster and before I knew it, he sent a spew of cum deep in my throat. I started to choke but he pulled me tight and pumped it all down my throat. I swallowed every bit of hot cum the doctor had to offer.
Studies have shown our four-legged companions can smell volatile organic compounds (VOCs), which are specific chemicals produced by the human body that enter our blood, urine, feces, skin, or breath. Dogs have been trained to detect VOCs unique to diseases like epilepsy, cancer, diabetes, and infections caused by pathogens like malaria.
Cases of hepatitis, an inflammation of the liver, in children who were otherwise healthy have recently been reported in over 25 countries. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued a warning to health care professionals to look for signs for this mysterious hepatitis with an unknown cause that mostly affects children under the age of 5. The European Center for Disease Prevention and Control released a report the week of May 11 that stated there have been approximately 450 cases of the rare liver condition worldwide. The European health agency said of those cases, 109 were reported in the United States and five deaths in the U.S. were reportedly due to the liver condition.
Editorial illustrations for Prevention magazine based on an article titled “ Dear Doctor,” -An exclusive Prevention survey reveals what Americans are looking for in their doctors—and whether the M.D.s are living up to expectations. Plus, docs get candid about what they want their patients to know. Art direction: Tony Marro - #prevention #magazine #health #medicine #doctor #illustration #editorial #conceptual #stethoscope #patient #hearst
I was a second year medical student, looking for inspiration and tips and references from anywhere that wasn’t SDN. Someplace where people are humble and inspiring and inspired, and tumblr was that place.
I often miss the community of medblrs on here, and try to find some on instagram. But the truth is, it’s not the same as it used to be. I know one thing for sure though, even if there’s one person out there reading this and thinking back to the same thing – you’re not alone.
We have all come such a long way, hear’s to that!
Here’s a picture of me in my graduation gown walking outside the college I spent 7 years in) photo credit: @amanialshaali on instagram.
“It’s nothing personal.” Something we hear often after being yelled at for something entirely out of our control. I’ve been seeing some news about physician abuse. Whether verbal or emotional or physical, it happens. And it sucks. But here’s the thing. A lot of times there are laws to protect healthcare workers from abusive patients. But what happens when the abuse comes from fellow colleagues? Senior doctors who feel entitled to demean anyone with a lesser job title? What laws protect us as students from being made to feel inadequate every time we don’t know the right answer? Why are we promoting this idea that scolding/yelling/being mean is the way to make sure we learn? We are promoting a whole different type of abuse and making it seem like it’s okay because hey, it’s nothing personal right? I hope we can find it in us to be kind to everyone around us this week..
