Top Leader Ends Up Taking Medicine in His Butt—And It’s No Joke!

• Al Rahming Photography
• December 7, 2024
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• 0 Comments

Disclaimer

This narrative incorporates references to real-world events, but certain elements have been deliberately exaggerated for dramatic purposes. The characters depicted are entirely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story is a work of fiction, and any similarity to real persons, entities, or situations is unintentional and not to be construed as factual. By continuing to read, the reader agrees and acknowledges that this narrative is hypothetical and intended solely for entertainment purposes. The authors and publishers disclaim any liability for any actions taken or not taken based on the content of this story.

Mr. Michelley was a household name in Nassau, Bahamas, a politician with a reputation that sparked both admiration and controversy. His district, however, was not one of wealth and privilege. Far from it, his constituency in New Providence was riddled with struggles, plagued by generational poverty, and often overlooked by the powers that be. Once a vibrant community full of hopeful families, it was now marked by the scars of neglect: boarded-up homes, rusted playgrounds, and streets where children rarely played anymore. Employment was hard to come by, and with each passing year, fewer people believed that anything would change. Yet, Mr. Michelley, a native son of this very soil, remained determined to lift his people up—no matter the personal cost.

But today was not a day for political promises or fiery speeches. Mr. Michelley’s head throbbed with a searing pain that started in his ear, growing worse by the hour, piercing through his usual stoic demeanor. The discomfort gnawed at him during a heated Parliament session, cutting through his ability to focus. Eventually, he couldn’t endure it any longer. He raised a trembling hand, excused himself with an air of urgency, and left, holding his throbbing ear.

His first call was to Gladrock Christie, his friend and confidante, who had stood by him through political battles and community upheavals alike. When Mr. Michelle groaned about the ear pain, Gladrock wasted no time. “Brother, you’re suffering! Go to Dr. Wayne Sandilands—he’s the best around. Just ignore the politics for today. Let him help you.”

Dr. Sandilands’s clinic was located in Palmdale, a bustling area that felt worlds away from Mr. Michelley’s struggling district. Unlike his own community, where dreams often faded into the harsh reality of survival, Palmdale was a place of opportunities. The clinic’s waiting room was filled with patients from all walks of life, the air buzzing with conversations. And there, behind the counter, was RN Ms. Rolle, a familiar face who had grown up in the very same troubled neighborhood as Mr. Michelley.

Ms. Rolle, whose life’s journey had been one of overcoming countless obstacles, knew hardship intimately. She had clawed her way up from the same poverty that her patients faced every day, guided by a deep-seated desire to give back. Her mother, a domestic worker, had often reminded her, “Child, we’re not just here to survive. We’re here to help others survive.” So, she became a nurse, one of the few from their neighborhood to rise out of poverty and achieve her dreams. For her, nursing wasn’t just a job; it was a calling and a duty. She served her community with commitment, pouring compassion into every patient she saw.

Spotting Mr. Michelley brought a flicker of joy to her otherwise exhausting day. “Mr. Michelley!” she greeted him, unable to hide her surprise. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, Ms. Rolle, this ear infection is killing me!” he replied, the pain evident in his voice.

Ms. Rolle nodded with empathy. “Don’t worry; we’ll get you taken care of,” she said, her words laced with the calm assurance he so needed. She led him into the examination room, where she took his vitals and noted his symptoms. Once she had completed the triage, she took the report to Dr. Sandilands, but her relief was short-lived.

Dr. Sandilands glanced at the file, his face tightening as he recognized the name. He and Mr. Michelley were on opposite sides of the political fence, often sparring in public forums. Yet, in this moment, he was a doctor, not a politician. Setting aside his personal feelings, Dr. Sandilands quickly confirmed Mr. Michelley’s diagnosis and prescribed ear drops, jotting down the precise instructions: “R ear”—two drops in the right ear.

Ms. Rolle, however, was momentarily distracted. She held the prescription in one hand while her other hand hovered over her mobile phone, where she’d been playing a quick game on Luck of the Island’s virtual casino website—a little break she’d found to escape the long hours and heavy workload. The flashing colors and bright icons of Fruity Fortune pulled her attention as she spun the virtual reels. Glancing back at the doctor’s hurried handwriting, her tired eyes briefly confused the words. “R ear” somehow morphed into “rear” in her mind. She blinked in confusion but, feeling a bit embarrassed, decided not to question the doctor’s instructions.

Walking back into the exam room, Ms. Rolle felt a strange sense of unease but maintained her professionalism. “Mr. Michelley,” she began, keeping her voice steady despite her inner hesitation, “Dr. Sandilands has prescribed two drops in… the rear...