Can you create a little medical comedy or tragedy with these phrases included? (wordplay!!)?

Question

He was rushed to surgery

Topsy turvy.

Take me or leave me.

Nurse!! What is his _______ level?

Last will and testament

White light

Bells and whistles

Doctor knows best!!

Answer 1

"Now now....Doctor knows best!" burbled Jawa the Hut.  "And by the way.....Gin!"

"You sonaofa-" I mumbled.  I tossed my third straight dog of a hand down on the autopsy table, where they landed on the exposed buttocks of the deceased.  Formerly one Jacob Fraley, according the chart.

"Indeed I am.  Take me or leave me."

My opponent, Dr. Jawa Singh, county medical examiner and card shark extrordonaire, gave me a gloating smirk as he picked the remainder of the deck from Mr. Fraley's cold pale back.  He was an enormously fat Indian man, the doctor not the corpse, whose countenance had earned him the private nickname Jawa the Hut.  Rumor had it that he once broke his ankle by standing up.  That was it.  Standing up.  Later, he was rushed to surgery in a rhinoceros sling.

"Well, that's best three out of five.  You have to do the cutting while I dictate."

I sighed.  "You probably stacked the deck."

"For someone who wants to learn the profession, you're pretty reluctant to do the dirty work," Singh gurgled at me, still smirking above his jowls.

"I"m just a lowly intern, Doc.  Technically I'm not supposed to do the hacking and slashing."

"You're also not supposed to toss bicycle playing cards on the near frozen flesh of a corpsicle.  We'll make exceptions in both cases."

"Fine," I breathed.  I stood to my full 5'11 height and shuffled to the foot of the autopsy table.  It is there that the clipboard for the deceased hung in all it's medically overworded glory.  Quickly I scanned the top sheet, and the boredom I was anticipating was stopped short by what I read there.

"Suspected spider bite?  That's a new one."

"Indeed," Jawa said, interested in spite of himself.  He waddled over to me and took the clipboard.

"Hmmm.  Upon searching the bed room, the corpses of not one but two brown recluse spiders were recovered from the bedsheets beside the deceased.  Really.  The police COULD let US determine the COD for once.  It would take a mighty large pair of brown recluses to be this lethal.  Well....I'll start dictating, you tell me what to say."

Jawa waddled back across the table and took a microphone from a small ceiling hook.  He pressed the red button on the side and began speaking.

"Deceased is one Jacob Winston Fraley of 336 Arbor place, Clemens, Ohio.  Date of birth 5-14-1971 making the deceased thirty seven years of age.  Stop."

Jawa nodded at me and I laboriously began turning the body over.  Fraley had been a relatively thin guy, but dead weight is dead weight, after all.

In the process of rotating the corpse, I completely removed the green sheet covering him and tossed it on the ground at the foot of the table.

Fraley now lay on his back, blank eyes gazing at the white light of the fluorescents.  He was completely nude and, at first glance, appeared to be unmarred by any physical damage or flaws of any kind.  My first thought was that this guy should be alive.

All autopsies begin at the head and work down.  Why not?  They have to start somewhere.  The visual was taken first and recorded, followed by the sawing and cutting.  The stuff of Hollywood legend.

"Autopsy turvy beginning," I said, my inflection perfectly droll.

"Deceased has no visual facial or cranial trama.  Eyes are open and green, palate in tact, Yadda yadda yadda."  I stopped giving Jawa time to repeat my findings, minus the yadda, into the microphone.  

As he droned on, I continued my visual of Mr Fraley working carefully down his neck, shoulders, chest and stomach.  I was actively looking for any punctures that would be indicative of a spider bite while still remaining careful to not omit anything else that would be of interest.  A medical examiner could NEVER let the opinion of the police taint his autopsy.  Or so they taught us in sawbones 101.

Still alternating between announcing my findings, or lack thereof, aloud, and shutting up so Jawa could record them, My gaze wandered back to the stomach.  It had either been my imagination, or I had just seen a rippling movement.

I held up my hand for Jawa to stop recording and he did so, throwing an expectant gaze in my direction.

I stared for what seemed like an eternity, but was only minutes in reality, and no further movement occurred.  I decided I had been mistaken.

"Deceased has two inch scar just above the front facing of the pelvis," I continued on, not bothering to explain the work stoppage to Jawa.

I moved Fraley's genitals aside and combed through his pubic hair, still trying to find small puncture marks on any part of his body.  The legs and feet yielded no fruit either and once again I struggled to rotate the body, this time onto it's stomach.  

I conducted a thorough visual of his scalp, his back, his buttocks and the back of his legs.  No puncture marks.  No visible trauma.  I once again thought that this corpse was fit enough to get off of the table and walk out of Autopsy room two.

I stuck a large thermometer in the corpse's r****m, recorded the temperature for Bawa, did a rigormortis test and gave an estimated time of death of 9 hours before.

Then I began to turn the corpse back over.

Intantly, I felt the flesh that was pressed against my left arm ripple as if something moved within the shelled out husk that was once Jacob Fraley.  I almost pulled back in horror, but managed to quell my repulsion long enough to finish turning the body back over onto it's back.

Then I stepped back and looked at Fraley.  I waited for something, anything, to ripple...bulge...or twitch.

Nothing.

"What the h**l is wrong with you?" Jawa asked.

"Something is not right here," I said.  "I could have sworn I saw his flesh twitch earlier and that time I felt it."

"You are well aware that the dead do sometimes move, Daniel, are you not?"

"Of course.  Though the body may die, the nerves may take a while, but this was different.  It was an unnatural movement....one a living human would be hard pressed to make."

"Perhaps you just have the willies.  Do the cutting and get this over with. It is, after all, why we have all these bells and whistles on the instrument tray."

I sighed, resigned to follow his advice as I had none of my own.

Per the text books, I removed the deceased's cranium and peeled back his flesh, noting my findings, lacking though they were, for Jawa the Hut's benefit.

Now lulled by the routine, and frustrated by the lack of any discernible cause of death, I moved to the abdomen.  The typical action is to open the belly to the breastbone, insert rib spreaders and completely lay open the chest cavity for examination.

We never got that far.  

And still haven't.

I sliced down the abdomen, right through the belly button, and stopped at the pelvis.  At first, nothing happened and I turned to get the rib spreaders.

It was the sound of Jawa the Hut's girlish scream that made me whip back around.

Boiling from the open wound of the abdomen was an army of at least a thousand brown recluse spiders, newly born, aggressively running from the hated light and into the darkened corners of Autopsy room two.

The thump of Bawa's body hitting the floor broke my paryalasis and sent me toward the door, my gorge rising in my throat.

******

Bawa Singh was the second victim claimed by the spiders.  The massive heart attack they caused resulted in him being as dead as dear old Fraley, who had indeed died of spider bites.  Thousands of them.  

All internal.

Me?  I'm now a gas station attendant please and thank you.

No more corpses.

No more antiseptic.

No more background shouts of Nurse!  What is his hemoglobin level??!

Just peace, quiet, and a few daddy long legs to deal with.....

Answer 2

Dodge City, Kansas

Circa 1875

" The Purpose of Angels"

The bullet tore through his flesh. After that, everything was Topsy turvy. U.S.Marshal Matt Dillon dropped to the ground!!

He was rushed to surgery, and under the careful instructions of Sunshine MacGillicutty, Doc Adams proceeded.

"Would you PLEASE shut up and let me do my job?!" Doc motioned to Festus to get Matt's girlfriend out of the room.

"Now Miss Sunshine. Ol' Doc'lll fix Matthew right up. For once in his life, I think the Doctor knows best!!"

Doc winced, but said nothing.  

Festus continued." Why don't you come fishin' with me. Them critters are jest a'waitin' on us, Miss Sunshine. Cain't ya hear them now? 'Take me or leave me! Take me or leave me!' I say let's TAKE 'EM !!

Whyyyyyyy, we'll catch ourselves a mess of catfish and..."

"FESTUS!!! You better have your Last will and testament in order. I'm about to KILL YOU!!" growled Sunshine as she broke free from his grasp.

"I want BOTH of you out of my office! How the h**l am I suppose to do my job with all this noise?!!"

Festus snarled at Doc and sulked out the door.

Sunshine pulled her pistol,twirled it a few times and plopped down in a chair." I'll shut up. YOU save Matt!"

Meanwhile, THIS is what was happening to the lanky lawman from Dodge City :

Matt found himself floating above all the action in Doc's office.

He smiled at Festus' rambling and ultimate exit.

He stared at the blood all over the floor and marveled at Doc Adam's level of dedication.

But most of all, he watched his Sunshine.

He cringed at her obvious torment. He reached down to comfort her but was stopped by a calliope of sound.

Bells and whistles resounded in his ears as he turned his attention upward. He saw an angel smiling at him and reaching out for his hand. Matt was tempted to give into the music and to the warmth and comfort that he was experiencing.

Then he remembered Sunshine.

He longed for HER music and for HER warmth.

The angel whispered to him: "My purpose is to guide you back home."

Matt felt her hand squeeze his gently as she repeated his name over and over again. ( Her voice sounded VERY familiar.)

Doc was on the verge of giving up on Matt and giving Sunshine a sedative, when Matt began to moan.

"Nurse!! What is his respiration level?" By now he was accustomed to Sunshine's "assistance" and decided "if you can't beat her, you might as well accept her intrusions."

Startled, Sunshine wiped the tears from her cheek .

Matt slowly opened his eyes.

Doc patted their hands, which had been clasped through-out the ordeal, stuck a toothpick between his teeth and went out of his office to get some air and stretch his back .

A large crowd had gathered  by this time.

Festus elbowed  his way to the front."Doc? Is Matthew gonna be alright?"

"He's going  be just fine."

"You old scutter! Why'd you leave him alone?!"

Doc just grinned. "I didn't leave him alone. I left him in the care of Sunshine, and I can guarTEE you that he couldn't be in better hands. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm headed over to the Long Branch for a little refreshment."

Festus licked his lips.

"Uhhhhhh, Doc? I'm a wee bit short this month and uhhhh..... I was jest wonderin'........."

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

Festus....... http://www.eviltwin.velvetsofa.com/Curti...

Doc Adams ...... http://www.dottorsalvatore.it/surgeon.jp...

Matt Dillon ..... http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/James-A...

The angel/Sunshine..... http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelgabrie...

Answer 3

A man, Charlie, had diabetes, and was having a conversation with his current girlfriend, Bridget. They were discussing how Charlie prefers to stay home alone, or go clubbing with other friends, instead of spending time with Bridget. Anyway, this was how the conversation was going so far...."Charlie, how do you expect me to be your girlfriend when you barely spend any time with me?" Bridget asked. "Babe, you know I would love to spend time with you, but that isn't really an option now..." Charlie lamely explained. "How is it not an option?! You could very well decide to come out of your house to spend time with me, or even invite me to the clubs you visit!" Bridget cried, her voice rising. Charlie wasn't really listening to her, just thinking of how hungry he was...after all, he hadn't eaten since the day before...and he had forgotten to take his insulin today..."Bridget, can't you try to understand?" Charlie asked. "I don't believe this. I should be asking YOU that!" Bridget shouted. "Bridge..."Charlie accidentally said, forgetting that she hated to be called that. Bridget stared to shake her head. "No. I can't handle this. I need to know, now. Take me or leave me?" she asked, awaiting his answer. He hesitated, stuttering nonsense words. Silently, Bridget picked up her purse, preparing to leave him forever. Suddenly, Charlie began to feel topsy-turvy. He passed out on the floor. "CHARLIE!!" Bridget screamed, and called 911. She sat next to Charlie on the floor, crying, because he hadn't woken up yet. He was rushed to the hospital, and was placed in the E.R. "Nurse, what is his blood sugar level?!" Bridget cried, following her to his room. "Hun, we're figuring it out right now. But we can confirm it was a diabetic attack. If things get worse, he might need to have surgery. Do you have his last will and testament prepared, if anything goes wrong?" The nurse asked. Bridget's face turned white at the thought of Charlie dying. "I know where they are, but I don't have them with me..." she muttered. She entered Charlie's room, and saw him hooked up to multiple machines, with all the bells and whistles. She noted to doctor in the room. "Is he going to be okay?" Bridget asked him. "It doesn't look good right now, but we are doing the best we can." The doctor replied. Bridget stayed by Charlie's side for several more minutes, crying. Then his heart moniter started to beep, showing his heart had stopped beating. "Oh God..." Bridget whispered, with wide eyes. The doctor rushed over. "This is horrible...Nurse! Get him prepared for the O.R.!" He shouted. He was rushed to surgery. He had heart attacks, and Bridget stayed all night until this immediate surgery was finished. The doctor stepped out of the O.R. "Is he OK?!" Bridget screamed to the doctor. "He's fine. Thank goodness we caught this in time, there was an 85% chance in this situation that he couldv'e died. He is recovering now, you can see him shortly." The doctor said. Bridget let out a huge breath of air, and slid back into her seat. In about an hour, Bridget was let in to see Charlie. "Oh my God! Charlie!" She yelled, at the moment she saw him. His eyes were open, but he looked very pale. "Are you OK?" she asked him, her voice shaking. "Yeah..." He muttered, gritting his teeth in pain. His voice was very raspy, and unstable. "Charlie, you just need to know, I love you. I always will. It was my fault that I kept you all day, fighting...it was my fault this happened..." she realized. "It's not your fault, babe. I'm okay now, and you're okay, and that's all that matters. That you feel better. I love you too." He whispered. They embraced lightly (because of the surrounding equiptment) and kissed. They stayed together for hours, talking about the experience. What was it like, Charlie?" Bridget asked. "All I can remember is the white light...and the words, 'Go back'." Charlie said. Well, at least you are alright now." Bridget said, knowing that Charlie had a hard time talking about what had happened. THen, the doctor entered the room. "Charlie, you can be released. You are in great condition now. Have fun back at home. Just make sure that this doesn't happen again." He said, leaving the room afterwards. Bridget helped Charlie out, saying "Well, doctor knows best." smiling and kissing. They stayed together for several more years, when Charlie proposed. They got married a year after, and had one daughter, Mia Lynn. They took care of each other throughout the rest of their years, living a happy life without any more of these episodes.

    I love writing stories, and I also enjoy wordplays, so I thought this would be ideal! Not sure if it could qualify for a tragidy or comedy...maybe a tradgidy-turned-romantic? Anyway, hope you like it!