Page 2 of Love, Accidentally

‘Good observation,’ Dr Patel tells her as if praising a dog. ‘We need to drain the blood out of the penis first. Treat it like a case of priapism.’ She turns to me. ‘Are you comfortable with treating priapism, Tilly?’

‘Comfortable enough,’ I assure her. ‘It’s not something we treat regularly, but I’d numb the area with local anaesthetic and then drain from as many sites as required using a needle.’

Maurice obviously doesn’t like the sound of this at all, as his face turns ashen.

‘You mean you’re planning to stick needles in Maurice Minor?’ he asks, horrified.

‘It’s that or risk having to amputate,’ Dr Patel tells him matter-of-factly. ‘The longer we let this go on, the more danger there is of permanent damage to your penis. It may already be too late, but we won’t know that until we deal with the current situation. Are you happy to sign a consent form for us to proceed?’

The threat of amputation has obviously had the desired effect, as Maurice nods mutely and Blessing disappears off to sort out the paperwork. I take this as my cue to go and fetch the relevant equipment for the procedure.

‘Right,’ Dr Patel announces when I return with a trolley and Maurice has signed the form. ‘I’m going to give you an injection to numb the area, and then Tilly here will start draining the excess blood from your penis. Hopefully, once that’s done, we’ll be able to see what we’re doing to get the washer off. Any questions?’

Maurice shakes his head and closes his eyes as Dr Patel inserts the small needle and delivers the anaesthetic. After a minute or so, she flicks Maurice’s penis lazily with her fingers.

‘Can you feel that?’ she asks.

‘No.’

‘Good. Off you go then, Tilly.’

‘Please be very careful,’ Maurice begs.

‘I’m always careful,’ I assure him as I insert the needle and begin to draw off the blood. After a while, Maurice Minor is still far from pretty, but it’s a lot less swollen and we’ve got a much better view of the washer. Dr Patel hands me what, to all intents and purposes, is a miniature pair of bolt cutters. At the sight of them, Maurice looks like he might faint.

‘Be particularly careful with these,’ Dr Patel warns me. ‘We just want the washer, nothing else.’

‘Dear God,’ Maurice groans, and I swear I spot the faintest trace of a smile playing on Dr Patel’s lips. She’s enjoying herself, the sadist. To be fair, I’ve worked with her for a number of years and, while she’s held in very high esteem for her encyclopaedic knowledge of the human body and her ability to stay calm under pressure, she’s also known for having zero tolerance for fools. It’s no wonder she’s not impressed by Maurice.

I’m concentrating hard as I ease the bolt cutters into place but, despite our efforts, Maurice’s penis is still a little too swollen for me to get reliable purchase on the washer without risking catching his flesh in the jaws at the same time.

‘Blessing?’ I ask. ‘Can you stretch the skin a bit to give me a better view, please?’

‘Sure.’ She carefully grasps Maurice Minor and pulls the skin on either side away from the washer. Maurice sighs heavily.

‘Is everything OK?’ I ask him.

‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘I was just thinking about the irony of two beautiful young women handling Maurice Minor and him being totally unable to enjoy the moment.’

‘Are you for real?’ Blessing asks him, outraged.

‘Sorry. An attempt to lighten the mood.’

‘I would suggest that you keep your humour for a time when there isn’t someone about to attack your nether regions with a bolt cutter,’ I tell him blandly. ‘Ready?’

He closes his eyes tight shut as I manoeuvre the cutter onto the washer and carefully close the jaws. Annoyingly, the cut doesn’t go right through the metal so, after checking that I definitely don’t have anything in the path of the jaws that oughtn’t to be there, I take a second cut. This thankfully does the trick.

‘Very good, Tilly,’ Dr Patel observes. ‘What now? Prise the metal apart or make a second cut?’

We study the washer together for a moment. Although we might just be able to prise the metal apart far enough to get it off, it’s quite thick.

‘I think, on balance, I’d go for a second cut,’ I tell her.

‘Me too,’ she agrees. ‘Blessing, can you lift the penis so Tilly can get to the underside?’

As I close in with the cutters again, I can see what Dr Patel meant about broken skin. Maurice obviously tried very hard to remove the ring himself, as it’s practically raw under here. Very carefully, I manoeuvre the cutters into place and, when I close the jaws, I’m rewarded by a satisfying ‘ping’ as the washer splits in half and flies off.

‘Great job,’ Dr Patel says. ‘Right. I think our work here is done. Are you happy to take over now, Blessing?’

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