at the doctor's

at the doctor's There are days when I feel bereft of the people I knew are all dead and no one is coming to take their place there is a sense that I'm a waterlogged tree floating in a sullied inland lake where bathing is prohibited my nights are full of ghosts from the past visiting when not awakened by nerve pains traveling up and down my legs and the burning sensation telling of the eternal flames of hell I'm sitting at the diabetic doctor's office complaining about the depression of pain I suffer at night the man has an ascetic face, a real doctor, not a product of a mother's wish to have a son with the title DR You are keeping your sugar level well-balanced which is good, your weight is right! (at this point I pull my stomach in As for your discomfort, you have to see this as a part of your illness, I think he calls my pain DISCOMFORT! He prescribes prescription for Insulin pens and tells me my blood pressure is perfect, with that he sends me away with a friendly slap on my sagging shoulder