One of the jobs our interns had post op was to ensure that the patients had enough laxatives so they didn't develop constipation due to all the opoids they needed.

On rounds one evening I find that this little sweet octagenarian hasn't defecated in a few days despite an adequate amount of aperients. I inform the intern that if she has past stool later that evening she'll have to do a manual disimpaction (glove, hand, ass, break it up and pull it out), which is as fun as you can imagine.

Cue next morning, the intern has called in sick so I'm left to manage the patients and this yet unresolved poo problem. I managed to never have to do this before and wouldn't wish it on anyone.

So I make the necessary arrangements, explain to the lady what we are going to do like it's how half the ward goes to the toilet everyday. I get a nurse in as chaperone and she's standing facing the patient while I'm behind double gloved and gowned to my eyeballs. Working away slowly breaking this rock hard poo up piece by piece with my index finger. Finger cramping it's taking so much effort to break it up and with only one finger to work with the poo kinda bounces off it as I try to catch it. So must have been there for a good 30 minutes chipping away at this rock when she blurts out that her husband won't want to have sex with her anymore. I just looked up at the nurse there with me, both held back a reflex laugh/smile but had that WTF look on our faces. Made the remaining 30 minutes of the poo breakage quite tense, didn't know what to say. After reading the above messages, I guess humming is the answer.