The Prison Doctor

I knew they were a rowdy lot, though, as there had been a great deal more laughter and shouting coming from the waiting area than usual. The prison officer had screamed at them to shut up a number of times, but I was too far away to hear what they had been saying, other than a load of effing and blinding.

When Wendy knocked on my door, her face said a thousand words. Her mouth twisted into a grimace as she wished me luck.

‘Thanks, Wen,’ I said, before taking a large sip of coffee from my mug. A caffeine hit before I started my clinic.

There were only nine boys on the list that day, and the first one, Danny Farr, had been to see a doctor three weeks ago about his feet. Three guesses what he’s come back for, I thought, as the 17-year-old made his way into my room.

Short, stocky, and wearing his own clothes, Danny sank down into the chair opposite me. He had strikingly chiselled features, with high cheekbones and a shaved head. His legs were spread wide apart, his arms dangling by his side as he assumed a relaxed pose.

I started things off.

‘Morning, Danny, how are you today?’

‘I’m okay, Miss.’ He coughed loudly. ‘Apart from, I got this problem.’

‘Go on?’ I encouraged him.

‘Well, it’s a bit embarrassing, Miss.’

I smiled, trying to put him at ease. I knew boys could feel awkward confiding in a woman. ‘Don’t worry, there’s nothing I haven’t seen or heard before.’

‘It’s my . . .’ he dropped his gaze to his crotch. ‘I think I’ve got a . . . a spot on my . . .’

‘Penis?’ I finished off his sentence to speed up the guessing game.

It wasn’t really my job as a GP to deal with sexual health, that was left to the ‘Dick Doctor’ – as the boys called him – the doctor who ran the GUM, or genitourinary medicine clinic. But of course I would have a look if they needed me to.

He looked bashful. ‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Okay, would you like me to have a look to check it for you?’ I said, trying to spare his embarrassment.

He dropped his boxers. At first glance I couldn’t see the spot, and we had a good look for it, just to reassure him, but it wasn’t there.

As he zipped up his jeans, Danny grinned, showing his crooked teeth. ‘I could of sworn I saw it. I thought I’d caught some disease or something.’

‘No, you’re fine, but you can put your name down for the GUM clinic if you find any more spots or blisters,’ I said as he disappeared out the door.

Two minutes later I had Dave Samuel sitting in my consultation room, with surprisingly much the same complaint.

‘Got a lump on my balls and I’m scared I’ve got cancer,’ the teenager confessed.

At that moment I heard an eruption of laughter from the waiting room, fading into the corridor. I thought I saw a smirk creep across Dave’s face, but if one had, it was gone seconds later.

‘Well, we’d better have a look then,’ I told him steadily.

Dave stood up, towering over me. He had the same pasty, blotchy skin as most of the teenagers I’d seen, and a scruffy bit of stubble on his face.

I asked him to lie on the couch so that I could examine him. Wendy was busy in the adjoining room so could not chaperone me in the clinic that day.

I pulled the screen around the couch and with his consent I examined his scrotum, and found no lumps or anything abnormal.

Another thunderclap of laughter exploded next door, sending Dave into a fit of giggles.

‘Sorry, Doc, I laugh when I get embarrassed.’ He stifled his sniggers with his fist.

‘You’re fine, you can get dressed.’

‘What a relief. Thanks, Miss,’ Dave said, then quickly scuttled out of my room.

I sighed. What a morning.

I took another sip, of my now lukewarm coffee. Wendy popped her head around the door for a quick moan about how noisy the boys were being.

‘I can’t think why they’re making such a racket,’ she hissed. ‘There’s a new PO on duty and he hasn’t taken them in hand. I’ll do it myself if he doesn’t.’

Wendy was feisty, I didn’t doubt her for a second.

‘I’ll send in the next lad,’ she said.

The next boy complained of exactly the same thing, a lump in his scrotum. I examined him and found nothing abnormal, and on it went. Every boy in my surgery that morning came in complaining of something wrong with his genitals.

Of course I had twigged that something was up, so to speak, by the time the fifth lad walked into my surgery with an erection holding up his tracksuit bottoms like a tent pole.

He was tall, well-built and oozing confidence. His tracksuit bottoms were hanging around his backside, and a wry smile curled across his mouth. He swaggered towards me and dropped his trousers and boxers and practically plonked his erection on my desk.

‘Is it big enough miss?’ he smirked.

A rush of anger came over me. I was furious at his attempt to intimidate me. How dare they come into my office and try to abuse me? Wasn’t I doing everything I could to help them? I cared! I wanted to make things better, and all they could do was this? A male doctor wouldn’t have had this problem.

I didn’t – couldn’t – show I was fazed by it, though, as that would have given him the satisfaction he was hoping for. I’d mastered a poker face over my years as a GP, perfecting an ability to hide shock – mostly so I could put people at ease, but in this case, to put someone in his place.

I shrugged.

‘It seems pretty normal to me,’ I said dismissively, and then got rid of him pretty sharpish. He was just trying to wind me up and I had no time for it.

There was another eruption of laughter as he walked back to the waiting room, no doubt getting a high five from all the boys. The clamour eventually died down as the prison officers took the teenagers back to their wings, while I sat there, raging.

I couldn’t wait to vent my anger to Wendy.

‘What was that all about?’ I exploded. I told her about the boy with an erection and she was shocked and appalled.

She shook her head in dismay. ‘That shouldn’t have happened, Amanda.’

‘Seeing their dicks isn’t a big deal to me, I’ve seen hundreds over the years, but I don’t like people trying to intimidate me,’ I said, still angry.

It was horrible to think that boys the same age as my sons could act in such a threatening manner. But in a way I was glad; their behaviour had removed any illusions. These were not just any teenagers, these were not just any patients.

‘I totally agree. I’m going to report this to Dawn, don’t you worry about that,’ Wendy said, her hands on her hips. ‘I thought there was a lot of whispering and laughter going on in the waiting room. They must have hatched a plan when they arrived. That’s the problem with putting them all together. They’re bored, looking to make mischief.’

‘Testing me to see if I will break,’ I said. ‘Well, I won’t.’

*

I was glad to have David to offload on to that evening. As usual, he was his calm, rational self. He listened as I ranted about the boys, and then reminded me I didn’t have to carry on if I wasn’t enjoying the job.

He turned the sports channel on mute as I kicked off my shoes and threw myself back into the sofa.

‘I can’t run away from a job because they try to wind me up one day. It’s a fact of life that sometimes you have to deal with things that are insulting and degrading.’

‘You don’t have to convince me,’ David said.

‘I mean, I’m incredibly privileged to see a world most people wouldn’t have a clue about,’ I continued.

‘As I said, you don’t have to convince me.’

I sunk a bit further into the worn folds of the leather, lifting my feet onto the footstool. I closed my eyes. Maybe David had a point. I was trying to convince someone: myself.

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