STORY OF A RING
I remember an experience I had as a Navy Corpsman. My first tour of duty as an IDC (short for Independent Duty Hospital Corpsman) was aboard a small Navy warship, the USS
Ainsworth FF 1090. One of the few pleasures of being a US Navy sailor was the opportunity to visit various places within the continental waters of the United States and beyond. Sometime in the fall of 1985, we visited the historic port city of Palermo, Sicily. Our ship was tied up to the pier
alongside another fast frigate from the same squadron that our ship belonged to. That ship also had an assigned IDC. One early morning while I was taking a shower,I was alerted by an announcement over the ship's public address system that
a corpsman was needed for a medical emergency in the quarter deck (the ship's reception area.) Soap suds all over my body, I rushed out of the shower and hurriedly put on my uniform. I knew that my junior corpsman would respond to the emergency, but since it was very early in the morning,
I got ready for the emergency, just as well. In a split second, I cleared the ladder from my berthing space and the narrow passage way on the port side leading to sick bay (medical clinic), my general quarters station and my work center, as well. I was pulling the exam table paper over the exam
table when my corpsman and another sailor showed up on my door. "What's the emergency?" was my immediate question. "Let's close the door," my corpsman calmly replied as he and the other sailor walked into my space.
"What's going on?" was my next inquiry. The Ainsworth was a relatively small ship. Sailors on board knew each other almost on a first name basis. I knew that this sailorbrought to my sick bay was not one of us. "He's from the other ship," my corpsman informed me.
"Tell him what happened, " he encouraged the healthy-looking sailor for whom the emergency was called. "What's your name?" I asked before the sailor had a chance to open his mouth. I wasn't too pleased to put my uniform on over my soapy body for an emergency that seemed not to be, after
all. I conveyed my displeasure in the manner I spoke to him. "Tom Older"( not his real name, of course ) he nervously responded. "I went to see my IDC but I found out that he had left for the states for a family emergency." "And what is the emergency?" I repeated my unanswered question. Without a word, Tom pulled down his trousers and revealed a dark red penile shaft choked by a stainless steel US Navy service ring. His phallus had turned dark purple. By then Tom was as pale as the exam-table-paper. " Please help me!" he pleaded tearfully. The good Samaritan spirit had taken over me. "Get up on the table." I motioned to him. Mike, my junior corpsman proceeded to take his vital signs, as these are routine requirements when tending to patients.
"Get me some ice when you're done." Mike knew that was my initial and practical intervention. In my training to become an IDC, this kind of scenario was not even suggested or mentioned at all by our mentors nor had I encountered something like it during my clinical rotation. The logical thing to do was to remove the ring. It was a very simple idea but not so
easy to put into action. The ring was stuck like it was part of his dick.
The bag of ice didn't do a thing to shrink his engorged discolored manhood.story...... I could tell that my patient was beginning to be alarmed by the condition of his dick in peril. "Please do something," he pleaded, tears of embarrassment and anguish flowed freely from his blue eyes.I thought of the tube of surgical lube in the drawer underneath the exam
table. "Okay, we'll try this one. We'll have to get this ring off this monster." I said reassuringly without success. The lubricant failed to dislodge the stubborn ring. Tension was skyrocketing. "How about Amyl Nitrite?"
Mike was smart to think of that possible remedy. "We can try if we have it, trouble is, it's not part of our inventory." I shot back. I thought of sedation to relax the patient. I have Valium IM in my narcotic safe. As I worked the safe combination, I paused and thought that it was best for this fool to remember this ordeal for the rest of his life. No pain, no gain.
He must as well learn a lesson that a horny toad is not always a happy toad. I turned back to the patient and coldly told him, "Younger, I will have to cut it" I was actually referring to thering that was the source of his agony. "What? Oh, please,
don't. Can you get someone to help you?" The look of terror on his face was indescribable. "Calm down" I tried to control him. "I mean the ring."
I reached for the ring cutter from the first aid box mounted above the sink. The ring cutter didn't make a dent on the solid stainless steel ring.
It was hard as a rock. I thought, maybe that was a dull one. I knew that we have three other ring cutters on the ship - one in the medical storage room and one in each of the two battle dressing stations. "Mike bring me the ring cutters from the BDS." I ordered.
One thing I really admired in my junior corpsman was his agility and speed. In no time, he was back in sick bay with two brand new ring cutters. Mike and I took turns working the cutters. It took us a good half an hour to cut
through the ring. "Ah, there is hope to save your dick, Younger." I mumbled as I made the last cut that went through the ring. But the job wasn't over yet. I could not pry the ring open. That ring was solid and hard enough to hold the ship's anchor. "Oh, shit,"I let it out in violation of formality. "Hey, M A one," I yelled out to the Master-at-Arms who had come to sick bay to offer his hand. "Don't you have a bolt cutter? I need it." "Sure," Master-at-Arms first class Miller
was always willing to help. Soon he was back with us.
This time, I backed out. "You are the expert on this. It's yours." I told him. In a quick snap, the ring fell off in pieces.
Michelangelo could have not been able to paint the look of relief on Tom's face.!
Two weeks later, our ship pulled into Rota, Spain. I bumped into Dave's IDC in the base club. "So you're back. Everything okay?" I asked him cautiously. "Oh, I thank the Lord. All is well" he answered back with a broad smile. "And how's Tom doing?" I followed up. "Dave, who?" my colleague looked puzzled.
"You know, that dude who slipped his ring over his dick?" I updated him.
"Oh, yeah. He's alright. His name is not Tom anymore. The ship calls him Ringo!"---#
--Ben Hur Soloria
Ben Hur was my buddy since we were still teaching at the Divine Word Academy, Urdaneta Pangasinan. A few of his writings were featured in earlier pages of this Journal. Indeed, I would describe Ben as a gentleman an a scholar...
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