The enormous tit
One of the much-publicised advances in Ambulance equipment, was the advent of the Cardiac Monitor, and combined de-fibrillator. Although this two-lead machine did not give a full ECG readout, it did give some indication of heart rhythm. As a result, it became protocol to attach these leads to any patient with chest pains, or with a known heart condition. This would be done when the patient was settled in the vehicle, and before moving off, as the movement of the vehicle could cause inaccurate readings. One lead was stuck to the upper right side of the chest, and the other lower down, on the left side. In the case of a female patient, this would mean that there was a need to put this just under the left breast.
One of the first things that you are taught in training, is the maxim ‘No sex in first aid’. This holds true in most cases, as embarrassment is overcome by pain, injury, or distress. Despite being placed in the most intimate of situations, the other aspect of this proximity to genitalia rarely enters your mind. This is doubly true when, as in many cases, personal hygiene is below standard, or you are concerned with injury to the approximate areas. Even the most attractive people can fail to look desirable when they are vomiting, exsanguinating, or are unconscious. Despite how it might seem to the outsider, constant contact with parts of the body that would otherwise be considered sexual, or exciting, holds no titillation after a very short time.
One afternoon, we were called to a house in the Maida Vale area of North-West London. We were told that a female was in great distress, suffering with chest pains. On arrival, we were actually met at the door by the patient. She was a female in her 30’s, of Arabic appearance, and wearing the type of clothes favoured in those countries. She politely invited us in, telling us that her husband was going to look after her two small children, so that she could go to hospital unencumbered. As is the custom with Arabic people, hospitality was offered, in the form of coffee, sweets, and small cakes. All of this had to be sadly declined, as we had to stress the urgency of treatment, if she was having pains in her chest. A brief oral history told us that she had no previous heart problems, and no medical condition that she was receiving treatment for. She was a non-smoker, did not drink, and was not suffering from stress. She was originally from Morocco, yet spoke excellent English, as she has been in the country for more than ten years. I told her that we could not ignore a diagnosis of continuous chest pains, and that we would have to take her to hospital, and she readily agreed.
We carried her down to the ambulance, and made her comfortable on the trolley bed. I advised her that she would have to have a trace of her heart taken, and that this would involve some disturbance of her clothing. This was an issue to be considered with more delicacy when dealing with Muslim, and Arabic patients, who are not as comfortable as most European women, when it comes to disrobing. She was a large lady, both in build and height, and her shapeless, neck-to-toe robe, gave little indication of the figure underneath it. She unhesitatingly reached down, grasping the lower part of the garment, and with some wriggling involved, rapidly pulled it up, then over her head. Despite my many years of experience, I was not ready for what appeared. Without doubt, the two largest, completely natural breasts that I had ever seen, stretched down from her armpits, coming to a halt in the area just above her knees. Crested by nipples the size of Portobello mushrooms, these gargantuan mammaries stopped me in my tracks, and left me speechless. The other object of fascination, was a veritable mat of armpit hair; untrimmed throughout her life, it had spread down along the sides of her breasts, and was almost halfway to her elbows on the upper side. For a man who thought he had seen everything, I was having a rude awakening.
I regained some composure, and fixed the first lead to the top right area, near to the shoulder. I then had to tackle the lower one, which involved asking the lady to lift her left breast for me. She was not interested, and was rubbing her chest below her neck, telling me that it was hurting. I had to heft the monster gland myself, propping it on my shoulder, like a rolled carpet, as I secured the second lead. With intense relief, I was then able to cover the lady with some blankets, and continue treatment. We got her to hospital, and found out later that she had excess stomach acid, and had no heart problem at all.
I was left with a memory of the most enormous tit that I will ever see , and will ever have propped on my shoulder.