“The patient presented with a central abdominal pain ra-..”
“Are you sure it is central?” asked the surgical tutor.
Twelve pairs of eyes were staring straight at me. I was put on the spot.
“Urm, it’s just above the umbilicus I guess,” I answered unsurely.
“Okay, what is ‘just above the umbilicus’ called in medical terms?” he asked, sensing that I was just waiting to be torn at.
“Erm, the right iliac fossa?”
“Release the hounds,” cried the Montgomery Burns residing in my head.
“First and foremost, she’s pointing to her left side,”
I heard a snicker in the background.
“Oh,” was all I could muster.
“SO, name me the nine quadrants of the abdomen,” he probed further.
It was as if the prior twelve intensive weeks of attachments counted for nothing. I was totally blank.
I couldn’t answer it even if my life had depended on it.
“Errrm” was fast becoming my trademark.
I was telepathically transmitting emergency SOS signals to my team-mates. Keith finally ended the fiasco.
“The nine quadrants are, ......” he uttered without even stuttering.
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