Camarata David A MD

You’re still a little unspooled from the accident.
How did you know your dumbass girlfriend was a pill-​popper. She didn’t seem high when she offered to drive.
It doesn’t matter.
What matters is how you’re now walking with a noticeable limp, and, you’re being told you might need a knee replacement.
Well Dr. C is the guy to go to if you want a knee replacement.
He’s the best.
If you don’t want a knee replacement, I recommend going to Turf Paradise instead.
At TP, you can hang out in the paddock area where you’ll find any number of stable dudes who’ll sell you some phenylbutazone, (bute).
It’s the analgesic they give race-​horses to numb their knees and win races.
So two stars for Turf Paradise stable dudes.
Another two stars for the pain relief that is bute.
One more for the vegetative, mouth-​drooling, stand-​up coma you’ll be walking around in after ingesting it.
And finally, a star for you, when you offer to drive your girlfriend to AZ 88 for some martinis Saturday night and wreck into the valet stand at W after driving around in circles for an hour.
Where the eff IS AZ 88 ANYWAY, DOES IT EVEN EXIST?
And how is it she didn’t know you were on bute… that conspicuous stream of slobber running down your chin?
All good questions.
But there was never a question about your knee replacement.
You were going to wind up on Dr. C’s table sooner or later, it was only a matter of time with all those jackass stunts you’ve pulled the last few years.
Go Turf Paradise, Bute, and Dr. C.