Last Thursday I received a frantic call from the Little Brother screaming bloody murder. Normally when this happens I ignore it because while my brother is very manly macho protect and serve kinda of guy he suffers from melodramaticitis. (He also bakes dinner rolls but I am digressing.) I blame this complex on surrounding himself most times by equally melodramatical women. He was the only cock in a den of hens growing up….oh wait I am forgetting the man Wander married, pish tosh!
Faith, are you listening to me? I was raped!
Now under normal circumstances hearing something like this would well up a bunch of emotional monkeys however, knowing the back story makes this hilarious. For some reason my brother’s doctor must be the most popular testicle touching crotch coddler in Philadelphia because no one leaves his office in under four hours. If someone left in less than four hours it would more than likely simultaneously rain Skittles, since as fair as I know this is relatively uncommon the same goes for leaving TV Doc’s office in a timely fashion.
Anywho due to the extreme waiting period my brother simply picked up and walked out of his appointment the week before last for fear of getting ticketed by the vicious PPA (Philadelphia Parking Authority), or the Sheriffs of Parking (they like to think). Me, I consider them the adult equivalent of high school hall monitors, bastardized rejected annoying whiny kids no one liked who gave out detentions for being caught roaming the halls. Digressing I know! In any event my brother received a
Fast forward to this past Thursday, the Little Brother is the first on the doctor’s list of victims. My bro already geared himself up for having his testes teased (very important exam per Nurse Friend. Docs need to make sure the gents don’t have the cancer of the dingle berries or possible hernias) but he wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Please lay on your side and bring your knees up to your chest.
Honestly it seems like a relatively easy non invasive request if you ask me, nothing like please open your legs, scoot to the end of this table and put your feet in the medieval-ish metal stirrups. Wait this time it isn’t about me. The Little Brother says he thought he knew what was about to happen but he didn’t want to believe. I mean TV Doc didn’t even give much warning, my brother just heard the slap of plastic gloves against skin and suddenly an insertion feeling.
VIOLATION, do not pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, but at least he lubed up before plowing it home!
There was no verbal communication during the backside exam, no need for pleasantries whilst your index and pointer finger peruse the inside of my anus. Personally doctor’s attempts at soothing conversation while “inspecting” the downtown bonanza never put me at ease, in actuality it makes me tense up even more and I presume when the doc’s finger’s up your rear the last thing he wants you to do is clench your cheeks.
I am only speculating here.
After it was done my brother said he felt cheap, the doc didn’t even leave a twenty on the counter and say go ahead clean yourself up like in the trick movies. The Little Brother quickly dressed and shot out of the doctor’s office thinking it will be another three years before he does that to me again.
I think he deserves a card folks!
Men are such babies, LMAO!!!!!
2 Pardon My French:
I'm sitting here having flash backs of my yearly...tell bro-ham to man up, every three years....gosh, I wish, try once a year or every six months if you get paranoid syndrome...
BTW I was ROTFLMAO
I'm laughing because for the past... shoot, I stopped counting, I've harrassed my husband about going to the Dr. to get a physical. "We have a health fair at work. My blood pressure is good. My blood sugar is normal, and I feel fine," he says. He does't want to go because of "The EXAM... Exam...exam...(ECHO)." He doesn't want a man to do it, and he doesn't want a woman to do it. Hell, I aint doing it!
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