Do You Want a Tissue?

"What's a club doing open at 6.30 in the evening on a Wednesday?"

This is the first question that pop into my head as we head for the front door. We walk up the stairs looking for the familiar green suit of the paramedic who is ahead of us in the RRU.

I open the heavy door leading to the main floor of the club. Its where the music is coming from so I assume its where the people are.

I pause briefly to take in the scene. There are a serious of silver poles around the room. Milling around the room are mixture of women dressed mainly in shorts, t-shirts and high heels. Some ridiculously high heels. Out of the corner of my eye I see a lady launch herself onto the pole and begin 'dancing'. I use the term loosely as these girls are not by any stretch of the imagination professional pole dancers.

The only lady in the room who could possibly pass as a dancer approaches us. She has legs that go on forever accentuated by the high heels (I wouldn't even be able to walk in them, never mind dance in them!). She is beautiful in a very striking way with her perfectly curly hair cascading around her shoulders.

I hate her already.

"Hello, your mate is over there with the girl"

"Thank you"

The RRU paramedic is setting up a nebuliser for the patient. She appears calm although one side of her face is puffy and swollen. She's had a reaction to something. After some questions and set of observations we get a chair in to take her to the ambulance. Insisting she is ok to walk we persuade her otherwise, anaphylaxis has a nasty habit of escalating and we didn't want to exacerbate the problem. I decide I'll give her a shot of adrenaline in the ambulance, she's stable enough to move at the moment. Our paramedic friend is obviously ready to hand over all responsibility as he is packing up.

For all the questions we can think of there appears to be no cause for the reaction. We can not work out what she has been exposed to. When her friend comes up with a suggestion

"What about the wax?"

This gets a raised eyebrow from the boys and a confused look from me

"We use wax on the poles so its lubricated without making you move too fast"

As we move away from the room I catch a quick word in the ear of my colleague

"You want a tissue?"

"Huh?"

"Your dribbling"

I get a playful punch on the shoulder for my cheek before I notice him checking in the mirror that this isn't the case.

Just another day at the office