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Here I sit,  on an examination table
bored, swinging my feet to and fro
waiting for a doctor who will be able
to diagnose the reason why I feel low

I study the body posters while I wait
in my unfashionable blue paper gown
I must remember to sit up straight
to keep my tushie from being found

Another hour goes by, maybe more
I'm sure I got forty winks in a nap
I can hear him now, outside my door
clicking his tongue then 'rap, rap, rap.'

A cheesy smile then he reads my chart
I could tell him what he needs to know
and doctors are supposed to be so smart
Well, he should have been here long ago.

He shakes my hand then off to the sink
where he washes with ten squirts of soap.
"You think I'm contagious?" I ask with a blink.
"Don't know," he says. "Maybe there's hope."

He inquires, "Now, what seems to be wrong?"
I ramble symptoms; there are many to convey
while squirming from the pinch of my thong.
Shouldn't doctors be old, at least turning gray?

"Lie back," he mumbles, "and I'll check you out.
Blood pressure's high. You have a fever, too."
Into his stethoscope I was tempted to shout
but he hands me a cup and I'm off to the loo.

I clean off the seat from someone's neglect
sit quite impatiently, and desperately I try
to get enough of a specimen for him to inspect
while maneuvering the cup beneath my thigh.

Back to the room and the nurse peeks in.
A frown on her face makes me start to worry.
She seeths the words, "Where have you been?"
"My pee cup runneth over," was my true story.

Dr. OneSoYoung returns and takes a chair.
Eyes of blue, handsome face,  but I digress
while I'm sitting here with my bottom bare
Wondering if my thoughts, I should confess.

"Get dressed," he orders, with a look of dread.
Must be bad news, I tremble, cold with a chill
thinking that by tomorrow I surely will be dead.
"You just have a bad cold and here is your bill."

I spent all morning thinking I was near death
and his diagnosis claims that all I have is a cold.
I peeled off my wrap and said in hissing breath
"Your bedside manner sucks, if truth be told!"

To the pharmacy, I strode with a disgruntled look.
I have to pay a fortune for prescribed medication.
Druggist or physician, which is the biggest crook?
Now I suffer from the malady of acute indignation!
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