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Some social obligations must be observed, I suppose,
But some leave me unnerved and somewhat morose.
One such tribal ritual is the dreaded hospital visitation,
A social call that I approach with very little anticipation!

Usually its some guy who's a friend of a friend of my spouse,
So I grudgingly traipse along to please the lady of my house.
The hapless guy doesn't want to be there, neither do I.
I'd rather be fishing on a placid lake with my rod and fly!

Sprawled upon the bed he resembles a mummy wound in sheets,
Sprouting tubes and needles, bandaged from chin to feets.
To make conversation, I exclaim, "Gee, you're looking swell!"
My wife kicked my shin - I could barely suppress a yell!

Nursey comes by to give a shot that sets his head a-reeling.
In his stupored state he just stares blankly at the ceiling.
I can think of no words of hope or sick humor to impart.
Lord, ain't there a way I can quickly, tactfully depart?

I've oft wondered if the patient dreads the visit as much as me,
Tho' I think there's one thing on which we can both agree.
Rather than trying to cheer his soul with inane trumpery,
Just smile a lot, hold his hand and cease the humbuggery!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)

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