I Miss My Lovely Bones

“You have osteoporosis,” my doctor said. “Osteoporosis?!” Four little ‘o’s in the diagnosis, but my mouth forms a single big “O” of surprise Whilst my mind temporarily dwells on the emphatic long-sounding “o” in old. “Have I not worked out?” “Have I not lifted weights?” “Have I not had enough calcium intake?” The answers are “yes.” “So, tell me doc, “Why do my bones allow these tiny, traitorous caves In which I sense the word “break” lurking like an omen?” “Break” contains no “o,” But hear groans of pain echoing from the future.” “It’s all in your genes, you see. You’re destined for fragility. But no need to groan. We can stop these traitorous genes in their tracks. All we need do is trick your parathyroid. It’s easy.” “Make it so!” I shouted. “Tell me how.” “You’ll inject a parathyroid hormone into your tummy once a day. “In two years you’ll see. You’ll get back some, if not most, of your bone density. That’s how we’ll fight your fragility.