By any means necessary: How to get thru med school

I got a perfectly non-threatening story for you. Unless you’re afraid of defecation and/or discussion of defecation, in which case run for your life.

I talked to this fine young man recently who told me he’d got into med school and was a month away from the commencement of his arduous studies. But, he said, before he’d get to that fun part, he still had to get a medical check up (seems ironic but isn’t) and also drop some samples at the health inspectorate. Some stool samples. Henceforth called shit samples. Samples of his own shit. Three consecutive days of shit sample delivery, to be exact. Guy had a gripping month lined up.

Then he told me he wasn’t the first in his family to go thru the ordeal. His sister was a doctor herself, he said. Years earlier she had to deliver samples of her own shit to (probably) the same inspectorate. Problem was she didn’t have the same facility taking a shit as her brother. In fact, I was told, the best she could do at the fragile age of 19 was take a single shit a week. Maybe two. No doubt the inspector would call that a no-deal.

But the sister cut a deal with her mother since her mother had a digestive system of an alligator. Showing admirable familial loyalty, the mother got the job done and the sister/daughter rode out her studies on her mother’s favor. In the end the daughter became a neurologist, but I realize if she’d become a proctologist that would spice the story further. We’re keeping it real, tho.

In any case, when I heard the story I just kept thinking about the sister’s moment of graduation. Picture the funny hat, the robes, the rolled-up diploma in her hand. Then picture the wink she sends her mother, all excited and proud in the audience, and the silent understanding between mother and daughter, communicated with that wink, of just what it takes to get thru med school.

And then think this final thought: every person the daughter helps as a doctor owes that help to a host of conditions. Among those conditions, glimmering in the distance, shrouded by history, formed into neat little heaps, are three pieces of shit.

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