How to Embarrass an Intern

On Tuesday, September 5, I underwent a repeat right-side mammogram and mammary sonogram. As noted on previous films, a “faintly visible cluster of microcalcifications is seen in the upper outer quadrant” on breast x-ray. The sonogram showed “no evidence of mass.” So, I had my fingers crossed that the results were good enough to warrant the cancellation of the following week’s surgical consultation.

There was no such luck. On September 13 (a hallowed number – only to be superseded by 666), I found myself being screened by a YOUNG surgical intern for a manual breast exam. (This guy couldn’t have been more than 24 years old.) After going through a series of standard medical questions, my hospital apprentice then informed me that he would be getting a female nurse to “chaperone” the physical inspection.

I was getting burned out by the seriousness of my potential medical situation and decided it was time for some comic relief. So – using sarcasm concerning the need for a chaperone – I said, “You just can’t wait to get your hands on a 60-year-old woman with terminal cellulite, huh?”

The new doctor answered quickly with, “I thought you told me that you were only 58.”

Then he smiled while I admitted, “Well, the age was exaggerated a bit.”

Soon, a senior surgeon and good-natured nurse entered the room. Apparently, the seasoned physician was going to show the younger intern how to properly give a mammary exam (and having little shame, I couldn’t resist having more fun).

The experienced doctor directed me to have a seat on the examination table. Then he began to instruct. “First, you observe the chest of the patient sitting in an upright position.”

I then interrupted in with, “Next, you lift the patient’s breast from her right kneecap.” (At this point, the nurse stifled some giggling while the senior physician turned his head in an attempt to hide a chuckle.)

My behavior was definitely not conducive to a professional environment. By the time the physician-in-training was asked to examine the “area of concern,” he was almost too embarrassed to touch me and was barely able to make contact with my skin. (There is no way in hell that he was able to feel what the practiced doctor had intended him to encounter.) My value as a teaching tool was zero, but entertaining.