Excelling at your job doesn’t makes the “nerves” go away when working. That’s something Montse, “doc” for her friends, Doctor for her patients, knows too very well. Entering her 50’s, Montse shines with the same intensity as she did back when she was starting at the Hospital, some months after graduating. And it’s not only about her good looks, the greyish colour of her short mane fitting perfectly in her stylish dressing code, but also because those same looks are a match-made-in-Heaven for the Zen attitude she’s famous for: strong “temple of wisdom” vibes she transmits with her calm, soft voice, contrasting perfectly with the deepness of her message; Montse knows, and talks to, how, when, where she has to, simple as that. 20 years working in the same health centre as one of her best GPs, example to her peers, family to her patients, everyone there admires her serene demeanour and composed approach to health problems, but also her extensive knowledge about… anything related to the human body. A 10 in every category a doctor should be good at.

That includes urgent attention. The same as some of her doctor & nurse coworkers, she gains some extra “green” working from time to time as Emergency Doctor, in a small village close, but not THAT close to the city (and, more importantly, to its hospital and its resources). An entire day, from 8 to 20 (or vice versa), attending acute illness of all kinds: mostly mundane, some of them life-endangering. Thing is, Montse doesn’t surely looks like an Emergency Doctor, considering her intensive follow-up of her chronic patients and the sometimes too “chill” attitude she wears in daily basis: most health care professionals with the luck to work with her are left flat-out impressed the 1st time they see how GOOD she actually is dealing with life-or-death situations. That’s why she has the “honorific” title of Nerves of Steel … Much as Montse tries (unsuccessfully) to debunk her fame because she says all the time she gets deadly frightened before she has to go to the village, thinking about all those grim scenarios that could occur… scenarios that, 1st, rarely occur because the village is small, and 2nd, even when they DO happen, if she’s there to solve it, it’s solved: in all these years she has spent day and night there, everyone is relief that, if Montse is there, there’s a chance… and if she can’t do anything, then it’s God will. Simple as that, and yet, Montse gets bored of insisting otherwise.

Because Montse is telling the truth: she, indeed, gets anxious when the day to go to the village gets close. That happens maybe twice a month, but, as good as she deals with those nerves, they are still there. Only her husband and kids can tell… But, yes, they can. Apart from being a bit susceptible, something expected, Monste also gets her digestive tracks out of balance when the storm in the mind starts brewing, getting awfully constipated 2-3 days before the turn, so, shortly after, she brews another awful storm in her belly. When Montse gets badly gassy, her family can tell she’s starting to ruminate about the disastrous, very-improbably catastrophes she’s imagining happening in her turn. So much, no water or exercise can overcome the blockage in her bowels, and applying any remedy before the turn is wasted as she quickly gets constipated again. But, AH, Montse has years of experience, and developed an (almost) flawless system to, the very least, don’t feel so uncomfortable during the turn: just before getting in the car, she stops by the bathroom and slips a couple of suppositories in her bum; then, 10’ with a coffee at hand, and she gets freed from anxiety. Going to the bathroom after a couple of days stopped in her tracks helps her recalibrate, so she gets double relief. The nurse, the driver of the ambulance, the patients in the village… all of them knows (only some of them WHY), when Montse gets in the small clinic of the village, 1st stop is the toilet, except urgent attention required… something that never happened but ONCE with a patient… in a house without address.

07:25 AM

Monste was awake since 6:50. She didn’t have the best sleep, rarely does before a turn. That night, she felt specially bloated, too much gas. Obviously expected. Still, she didn’t feel too exhausted, and it’s rare the day she doesn’t have time for a good nap, so she was sure she could refresh her mind after lunch with some good 30-45 minutes of rest. Ritualistic as she is to ensure she gets to the job in her best conditions, Montse already had her breakfast, did her make-up (never forgets her rituals), dressed in her Urgency attire: navy blue baggy pants, sky blue shirt and, just in case it’s cold, nothing unusual in the mountain where the village is, a jacket: all decorated with reflective details (dangerous job, she has). Mostly, dressed. Montse, 7:30 AM, stood there, in her main bathroom, leaning down in the edge of the sink, pants & underwear down to knees, looking sideways thorough the mirror as her husband, Micki, worked on her backside. MM… Montse moaned, softly, her butt-cheeks spread apart, one cold glycerine suppository pushed through her anus, deep into her rectum. As unappealing a couple of suppositories a Saturday morning seemed, Montse was actually looking for them, desperate for relief; also, she was grateful her turn was on Saturday: her husband doesn’t work on weekends, and for Montse is way better when he can help her get the medicine: he gets the suppositories deeper, he’s gentle on the process (that’s how she found out she likes very much when f*cked in the ass), and also, helps her relax a bit and sight deep before going to work. She heard her husband comment about how constipated she seemed this time, something she confirms she was very much aware; soon, another ass bullet followed the same path, both suppos placed as far as possible into her asshole. Done at least, she got her clothes back in place, ensured her belt, kissed Micki goodbye, and hoped to get back without any life to save. “Boredom is my best friends” is her motto.

07:40 AM

Monste doesn’t like her turns, but she very much enjoys the 10’ between her place and the village. It’s all countryside, farms everywhere, the driveway empty for her to enjoy the views. A sip from her charged coffee from time to time, her favourite themes on Spotify, peace to the mind; and, also, the satisfaction she’s getting rid of waste & nerves once she reaches destination; not bothered too much by the small urges brewing in and the… not-that-undesirable burning of the suppositories. Too many years for her to learn how to appreciate the bright side on this ritual she goes through. Once more, the ride went as planned: hardly a couple of cars in the way, the sun shining bright in the horizon, and, man, f*cking good songs in the playlist; she could almost forget she was a bit urged to use the bathroom sooner than she expected, confirming, as Micki said, she was more constipated than other times. The BBQ at the Macaulay’s on Wednesday, the most likely culprit. Monste didn’t give it a 2nd though, however: if she felt them, that meant they were working fine.

07:55 AM

Monste arrived at the clinic. In the parking, Sonya’s expensive blue Chevrolet. Good she recovered just in time, she thought: Sonya is one hell of a nurse, one of her friends in the health centre, her usual partner in crime in Emergency, but the day before she informed her she felt unease with a cold, and Monste was unsure who she could find in her place. Relief in that regard. In the other… UF. Monste wasn’t at her limit but felt distressed in her lower belly: clearly 1st stop was the ladies. Or so she though. Just waving bye Sebastian, the doctor who spent the night before in the clinic, Sonya came out the building with the ambulance’s driver, John: they had an emergency call that just came in, a woman, no name given, choking in her house, almost unable to speak. Monste swallowed saliva: REALLY¡? She though. That distress in her bowel skyrocketed for a moment, but she managed to clench tight and regain composure: urge subsided, for now. Monste picked her material, stethoscope, and hurried into the ambulance. Sonya smiled, and, as usual, greeted her with joy, even when riding to an emergency. “Hello, baby¡ Sorry we have to go just starting our turn¡ Can you hold it in a bit, or you can go to the toilet fast?” She asked. Sonya, yes, knows (the suppos too: Monste is not that pesky with her friends about health topics). John, half of it, but he has done many turns with her to know her schedule. Monste though for a moment if she could use the bathroom VEEEERY fast, but decided against it, telling her workmates she could hold it in; she though, if the patient was unstable, she may use the bathroom when she stabilized it. Besides, John said the house was close to the clinic, just a couple of minutes, and the person who called didn’t seemed THAT worried. Okey, fine, Montse though: she could do it. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

08:05 AM

Montse and her team finally got into the house. 10 minutes of agony for Monste, fighting both the uncertainty of the situation & the adrenaline rush making things in her rectum much challenging. The address the coordination centre gave them was obviously wrong, the neighbours didn’t even know the person calling for help (and they lived there all their life), and no one answered back when they called the number the office gave them. Inconvenients piling up the same rate Montse’s butthole filled. Finally, the team could limit the most possible address to just 2 of them, both house no number given, looking abandoned, but it was there, or it just wasn’t. The 1st of them, they stood in front for 3’, nobody answering their call, Montse knocking on the door effusively, identifying herself as medical staff as John looked in the back for a non-existent 2nd door they may access. Doc spent all that time she was waiting an answer, diverting her thought into checking the medical actuation she may had to perform, something that only took for her 30’’ because she knew perfectly, and the rest of her attention in focusing on clenching tight, trying to prevent the melted suppositories to leak, or worse, into her work’s clothes. She realized it was time to try the 2nd house when she got an specially alarming urge to fart; Monste had to bend her legs a bit, breath deep to help her retain; confirming Sonya verbally (blunter than usual on her) she was getting desperate with her upset belly, and not waiting any second in front of that door. Fortunately for the team, Monste specially, they were finally successful at the 2nd door: a shabby, a middle-aged man opened the door, not too worried about their arrival, and explained them her mother had been coughing all night long. Montse recovered some of her control over her urges knowing they arrived destination; so tried to put all her brains into solving this issue, fast, as fast as possible, because, yes, it sounded like an easy case (just a cough) but she had many experiences founding a patient half-way to the other world when previously informed about some mild symptoms; the ambiguity of the man explaining the reasons to call and the apparent lack of self-care of the people living them being red flags to stay alert. The universe was this time on Montse’s side: the woman, old but not that old even if she looked in her 90’s, was sitting comfortably in a couch, breathing normally, a coffee in hand that only gave Monste the chills remembering where her own coffee was resting, explaining no problem Sonya and Monste she just had a rough night with what appeared just a cold with minor manifestations. SIGHT (first): Montse thanked God it was something easy to solve and she didn’t have to stop by any place to use the restroom: she could deal with the woman and then rush back to the clinic. No weird noises in the chest, no signs of alarm in the woman: confirmed, a cold. Sonya administered some treatment for her to feel better… but then, before getting out, Monste counting every step to the ambulance, they found the soon standing still in front of the door, looking angry. Unlike her mother, who said nothing of the delay, he insisted in his annoyance, protesting in a not-very-nice way they took too long to arrive. Usually, it would be Sonya to reply, she’s one to watch when offended, but Montse had no time for bullsh*t, feeling her resistance was fading away, and quickly dealt with the conflictive patient with just a couple of words. John, remaining quiet, enjoyed the show, even looking the mother of the man surprised that woman that looked tiny and soft like a feather put her son in his place, leaving him speechless. Already done and out of the house, Montse asked 2 seconds to breath deep before getting in the ambulance... which she used to let out a bit of gas in the subtlest way possible: it sounded a bit (hoped they didn’t hear¡), but started smelling right away, so much Montse got in the ambulance and managed to let the stink in the street before packing it up into the tiny space in the front of the ambulance.

08:10 AM

Montse arrived 1st, with some margin over her workmates, at the door of the clinic. The 5’ ride back to their safe house was indeed an intense one for Doc. Monste squirmed around her seat, the most concealed way possible, crossing her legs in a not-that-subtle way; inside her pants, she was shutting close her asshole the hardest she could, sweating profusely both because of her effort to stay clean and the now intense heat she felt inside her. UFF¡ She could not remember the last time she had such a rough time with suppositories, even considering she was 10 minutes due to the restroom. How much she was regretting that BBQ… Sonya gave her some random conversation, but Monste could hardly pay her attention, her whole being focused in not (badly) messing her pants. And in top of that, Monste though a bit about how loud she might be this time, as she felt super gassy… and the restroom in the clinic is not much soundproof¡ Not what she should worry about, she considered… just sitting on the throne in time would suffice. After struggling more than she had if not that desperate, Montse managed to open the door and dashed in seconds to the ladies. This restroom, available for both stuff and patients, is in the corner of the clinic, but has paper-thin walls, so everything could be heard outside if one’s… noisy, enough. As Monste in that case. Shut the door, lowered her blue baggy pants and underwear to just before knees, settled in the lid, leaned down a bit: suppositories melted, cramps skyrocketing… time to let everything go. OMG… Montse knew a couple more minutes and she would have not made it¡ She heard Sonya outside the door telling her to ask for anything she could need, and “Thanks, baby” was the last words Montse could utter before moaning LOUD. “Oh, Heavens…” She thought, ending her suffering with one raw, wet & messy explosion, blasting the bowl to kingdom come. Immense relief, a ton lighter, urges entirely subsided: end of her bloated belly, for sure¡ Monste smiled a bit… harsh time, sure, but once more relieved with the treatment Micky gave her. But… EW… “Nasty,” as she very well said¡ Monste felt not done, waited… and hit replay. Slow, gassy release, thick air. Zero shame by now: she knew anyone could be hearing… and cared none about it. Doc stayed almost 10 minutes in that toilet bonanza until finally feeling totally relieved. Wiping (several¡), clothes up… ready for the rest of one calm turn.

Monste jokes about that morning a lot with her friends and family… as it’s a perfect example that, excelling at your job doesn’t makes the “nerves” go away when working¡