Confessions of a GP - Benjamin Daniels [17]
I did finally manage to examine Olga’s bottom, only to find nothing unusual at all. In theory I should have done a rectal examination as well, but poor Olga had faced enough already and inserting my finger up her back passage without her really being able to understand my explanation of what I was doing seemed a bit unfair, bordering on abuse. I managed to book her in for an appointment another time with an interpreter present but she didn’t turn up, possibly having somewhat lost faith in me.
I recall another difficult rectal examination back when I was an A&E doctor. An elderly lady called Ethel had been brought in by her husband, Lionel, because of her having some tummy pains and bleeding from her anus. Ethel herself was quite demented and also very deaf. Lionel was a retired vicar was now caring for Ethel full time at home.
After taking a history from Lionel and feeling Ethel’s tummy, I needed to do a rectal examination. It was important to make sure that there wasn’t a blockage in the rectum causing her symptoms. ‘I’m going to need to examine your rectum, Ethel.’ ‘You what, love? I can’t hear you.’ ‘I need to put a digit up your back passage Ethel’ I say again a bit louder and into her good ear. ‘What’s he saying, eh?’ ‘I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PUT A FINGER UP YOUR BOTTOM.’ This time I was shouting at the top of my lungs. It was only a set of curtains that separated us from the rest of the A&E department and, as you can imagine, curtains aren’t particularly soundproof. The entirety of the A&E department was now aware of Ethel’s impending rectal examination but, unfortunately, Ethel wasn’t. Her confusion was such that she couldn’t really comprehend what I was doing or why. Despite my best efforts to put her at ease, she was getting increasingly agitated. I put on a pair of gloves, moved her into as comfortable a position as possible and gently eased my right index finger into her anus. Suddenly, there was an almighty shriek. ‘Oooh, Lionel. Stop it, Lionel. You know I don’t like it that way. If you’ve got to put it in, at least put it in around the front.’ Poor Lionel was standing outside the cubicle in full view of all the patients and staff who were trying to hold back their giggles. He looked very embarrassed as he made his way back into the cubicle.
Julia
Julia was young, attractive and articulate.
‘I need you to section my boyfriend Andy. He’s completely mad and unreasonable and yesterday he smashed up my moped for no reason.’
I wasn’t expecting that one.
‘Your boyfriend doesn’t sound very nice but we aren’t going to be able to section him.’
‘But he’s mad! It wasn’t just any moped. It was my twenty-first birthday present. I drove it everywhere. It was my most precious possession! He knew that!’
I was tempted to explain that there wasn’t a special subclause in the Mental Health Act that allowed us to section people if the moped they smashed up was a very special birthday present. I held back and instead explained how a person would need to have a mental disorder and pose a risk of harming themselves or others before they could be sectioned.
‘He is a risk to me. He beats me up!’ Julia then proceeded to lift her shirt to reveal an impressive array of bruises on her torso.
‘Why don’t you leave him? There is a local domestic violence support group. Perhaps I could –’
Julia interrupted me. ‘He needs me. He says he would kill himself if I left him and I couldn’t have that on my conscience for the rest of my life. He needs help and all you’re telling me to do is leave him. He was abused as a child and so was his mum. His whole family is fucked up. I’m all he’s got.’
I wasn’t sure where to go from here. From the outside it seemed so straightforward. Leave, run away,