As I thought about what lay in wait,literally, for me, when I finished the shift, I slid three of thexylocaine syringes into my scrub pocket.Necessity... as they say, is the mother of invention. Hopefully no morepainful sex for me.*****Dyspareunia.That's the medical term for painful intercourse.I had to concede that, pending my future physical inspection unearthingunexpected surprises, my pain was more psychological than physical.I had to get used to it. Which more specifically meant I had to. "Do you remember, a few years back, a man called John Carpenter was convicted of a murder that his wife had committed?" the sergeant asked.The name rang a bell somewhere in my brain. I seemed to remember he'd been inside for a while and there'd been a gunfight or something a little while after he was released. Then there was a lot of publicity in the newspapers about him being innocent of the crime in the first place."Yeah, I think I do. Didn't he serve time and then when he got out his wife. More

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