A couple of rather tasteless medical songs

From the medical students' comedy revue, both based on real experiences and characters from my time working in hospitals:

He's Depressed

An upbeat song for four parts: psychiatrist, pharmacist, patient and nurse (to the tune of Be Our Guest from Disney's Beauty and the Beast)

Psychiatrist, scrutinising patient intensely:
*clicks fingers in realisation*
He's depressed, he's depressed!
His serotonin's been suppressed!
TCAs, SSRIs and CBT are for the best.
He's had weeks of malaise,
But he hasn't slept in days.
He's fatigued and anhedonic,
While his lethargy is chronic.
He has no self-esteem,
It's like his life is one bad dream,
And his sexual function's well and truly messed!
He shoves his food aside,
And talks of suicide,
He's depressed!
He's depressed!
He's depressed!

We're not saying you're insane,
But you've got a broken brain;
We'll use psychotropic meds to make you sociable again.
You're alone and you're scared,
But the pharmacy's prepared.
Though the mechanism's uncertain,
We've got drugs to stop the hurtin'!
You might fit, you might sieze,
(Don't take phenelzine with cheese),
And trazodone can make your heart arrest,
But it'll be worthwhile,
Just to see you smile,
If you're depressed...

Might I suggest,
We do a thyroid function test?

You're depressed,
You're depressed,
You're depressed!

Life is so unnerving,
When you know you're undeserving.
There's a hole within my soul that tortures me.
I can't recall the last time I felt useful,
Even nostalgia isn't what it used to be...
For ten months I've been moping,
Malingering more than coping,
Feeling self-reproach and endless waves of guilt.
I spent three weeks curled up beneath a duvet,
Empty bottles piled around me...
Then the paramedics found me!

You're depressed, you're depressed,
Well, I can't say I'm impressed.
On this ward,
You'll be ignored,
Until you leave just like the rest.
In a week you'll be free.
You can't say the same to me.
When you're rehabilitated,
I will still be as frustrated.
I'll be here, changing beds,
Picking maggots out of heads,
And wiping down the sexually obsessed.
Don't look for sympathy,
'Cause you'll get none from me,
If you're depressed
You're depressed!
You're depressed!

I Will Debride (to the tune of I Will Survive)

The patient was awake, not anaesthetised,
I could see the look of panic growing in his eyes.
When I turned to get a knife,
He started begging for his life,
But in A&E on Friday night, there's no time to be nice.
And so I snapped,
And I saw red,
I called a porter and a nurse to come and tie him to the bed,
He had a gash across his chest,
I didn't want it leaving scars,
I didn't care about his rights,
I wouldn't let him self-discharge.
And he screamed, "No!
I'll tell the law!
I've changed my mind now,
I'm not consenting any more."
I put a gag into his mouth and
Some tape around his feet.
His wound must heal,
And I want it to be neat.

And that is why,
I will debride,
As long as there's a ragged wound,
Or any dirt inside.
I don't care if the patient,
Doesn't want the operation.
I'll debride,
I will debride.

I gave a mixture of adrenaline and lidocaine.
One was for the haemorrhage,
The other for the pain.
I asked for maximum exposure,
For this secondary closure
I made him strip,
Until I had him in the nip.
And there he lay,
Totally nude,
While I just stood there with the feeling I'd be getting sued,
But now I had the patient completely in my power,
So I stuck my scalpel in and I was finished in an hour.
And even though,
It had be sore,
His injury now,
Looks much better than before.
It will take a few more weeks,
For reunion to complete,
But it will heal,
And it's going to be neat.

And that is why,
I will debride,
As long as there's a ragged wound,
Or any dirt inside.
I don't care if the patient,
Doesn't want the operation.
I'll debride,
I will debride.

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