Looking for Drugs in All the Wrong Places

Beaten.
Bashed.
Banged-up.
Battered.
Bruised.

All words we as doctors hate to hear. After all with our Hippocratic Oath, we are bound by our words to help the sick and the ailing. So with a battered, beaten and bruised Lissome Lorelei in our midst ( obviously enacting the pitiable role of abused entertainer Rihanna ), what else could we do but offer our help to relieve her pain?

And that we did. In multiple public locations around our fair city.


Ouch. That looks painful.
As a general rule, doctors have really lousy pain thresholds so I knew plain oral paracetamol just wasn't going to cut it.

Ever tried inserting a brannula and injecting intravenous painkillers in public? Fabulous Fiona and I have. And it's an experience we wouldn't like to repeat :)

Lorelei : I might have changed my mind.
Fiona : And suffer the pain in silence?
Lorelei : Inject it dammit.
Paul : Stop fidgeting.
Lorelei : That society matron just keeps looking at us dammit.
Paul : What did you expect? Enacting the role of drug pusher and addict is sure to gain us some notoriety.
Lorelei : How am I gonna show my face here again!
Paul : Wear a big hat.

Nothing like working out in the field to get the vaunted adrenaline moving. I think even my hands trembled a little. Talk about performance anxiety.

Lorelei squeaking audibly in distress at every juncture didn't help much either.

Surprisingly ( and much to our relief ) no one raised a public outcry as we initially feared. Paranoia making us think that we'd be summarily tossed out of popular hangouts - and clapped up in gaol, we finally settled on a quiet, dignified restaurant to go about our irregular business. Surely no starched-up, botoxed matron would lift a manicured finger in protest.

We were right. Obviously our polite society's far too blasé to bother about a banged-up babe being offered drugs by a persistent pusher.