Conundrum, the product of driving for too many hours.
You're a doctor, general practice. You're stranded on a desert island with somewhere between 10-100 people. You fortunately have for a med kit that Spicoli would call "a radical set of tools" and a bottle of whiskey. The med kit has antibiotics and a scalpel.
Someone in your party has the misfortune of developing appendicitis. Everyone is looking to you, asking what you're going to do about this. "I'm not a surgeon," you protest, "First, do no harm" ringing in your ears in your med school professor's voice.
"You're the closest thing to a surgeon we've got or are going to have," says the Skipper, "and if you don't try, Mary Ann is going to die in agony over the next couple days, begging us to do something and eventually begging us to kill her to put her out of her misery. This young woman with the tattoos and pierced tongue went through a couple semesters of nursing school before dropping out to be a cosmetologist. She's your assistant. Now you can either scrub up while we get this whiskey in her, or you can be the one to go look in Mary Ann's eyes and tell her how much it's going to suck to be her for the next 48-72 hours."
What do you do?
You're a doctor, general practice. You're stranded on a desert island with somewhere between 10-100 people. You fortunately have for a med kit that Spicoli would call "a radical set of tools" and a bottle of whiskey. The med kit has antibiotics and a scalpel.
Someone in your party has the misfortune of developing appendicitis. Everyone is looking to you, asking what you're going to do about this. "I'm not a surgeon," you protest, "First, do no harm" ringing in your ears in your med school professor's voice.
"You're the closest thing to a surgeon we've got or are going to have," says the Skipper, "and if you don't try, Mary Ann is going to die in agony over the next couple days, begging us to do something and eventually begging us to kill her to put her out of her misery. This young woman with the tattoos and pierced tongue went through a couple semesters of nursing school before dropping out to be a cosmetologist. She's your assistant. Now you can either scrub up while we get this whiskey in her, or you can be the one to go look in Mary Ann's eyes and tell her how much it's going to suck to be her for the next 48-72 hours."
What do you do?