She was grateful to be alive.  For many years, the damn Colombians had wanted her dead.  But she was clever.  Always thinking.  Always one step ahead.  Still, they posed a formidable threat.

I had heard her story before, and I, too, was glad she was alright.  She had sworn me to secrecy, and as her doctor I confirmed the confidentiality of our discussions.  She glanced suspiciously over to my chart and again instructed me not to write anything down.  They would certainly find it and use it against her.

These men were dangerous, she explained again.  There was a lot of money at stake, and the leaders of this Colombian drug cartel showed no mercy to their enemies.  If they wanted you dead, sooner or later you’d be dead.  And since she was aware of them, she posed a threat to their international operation.  She had been instructed over the phone to “keep her damn mouth shut.”

And they were making sure her damn mouth did stay shut.  Her phone was tapped.  The same car drove by her house twice a day, every day, at 7:30 AM and 5:30 PM, to monitor her activities and her visitors.  When she dared to venture outside, they followed her every move.

She was an intelligent person, and had figured out a lot of things about these criminals.  They sold drugs mainly to kids at school.  They used the money to buy diamonds because they were more easily transported out of the country.  They controlled the local police and politicians.

She had lived with this knowledge for years, carefully looking over her shoulder at every turn.  She had indeed kept her mouth shut.  But for some reason, their suspicions had recently escalated.  They were probably planning something big.  She was now receiving direct threats.  In her mail, the man in a funeral home ad was grinning a knowing, threatening grin.  She understood the subtle message was just for her, “keep quiet or your funeral is next!”  And the man in a TV commercial for sleeping medicine was telling her she could be drugged any time they wanted.  It wouldn’t be the first time they had tried to poison her food.

I was sworn to secrecy, so I couldn’t speak out against the damned Colombian drug cartel.  My hands were tied.  All I could do was to respectfully listen to her fascinating story, and to reassure her that her blood pressure was alright, her heart and lungs sounded fine, and her labs were okay.  I advised my 80 year old patient to drive carefully, to lock her doors, and to increase the dose of her Sinequan.

End notes:

1. 1.The picture of Jessica Alba is a publicity shot from her terrible movie “Paranoid.”
   

2. 2.I don’t want to hear any shit about trashing the people of Colombia.  I admit I’m against Colombian drug lords.  Other than that, I LOVE my Colombian brothers and sisters, especially Shakira!