Finally (no! I hear you cry out in anguish), one last poor unfortunate came to my hospital with a tummy like a bowling ball. Once more unto the breach, my registrar found me and patient engaged in a stimulating discussion of the mystical philosophy of Martin Buber.
"What are you doing?" shrieked my registrar, "I asked you do do an ascitic tap!"
"Oh!" said I, "I thought you said a Hasidic tap."
I think we're done here now.