Best Diagnosis Poems
Written for Andrea Dietrich, a remarkable, talented human and sincere, caring friend
I’ve never even met her, we’ve never shared space,
Yet I continuously, tenderly, view her face.
She woke one same ole’ morn, on her same ole’ street
To retire that night with terror lying under her sheets.
She’s always been conscientious, responsible and prepared,
But she’s never dealt with this brand of scared.
It isn’t that bad news had never before appeared,
It just hadn’t carried such fierce shades as it neared.
I feel her frightened ache tremble and I silently shake.
My faith demands I believe He did not cruelly forsake
One who never selfishly sought her own delight
Over her commitments to living proper and right.
It must feel surreal to her that the world is the same
When her life’s been yanked, injured and maimed.
Everything must surely seem foreign and strange
As she struggles through fears web just to maintain.
Rudely, she was handed a nightmare wrapped in unfair
That I desperately wish my emotional sum could repair.
Wings settle, feathers light as the glistening dew who rests gently on each tender petal. The crimson edges of melancholy, roaring with the wind’s breath, listen to my prayers and I hesitate, uncertain. Will God hear the hunger in my voice, the famine that lingers, the need far greater than any prayer I’ve spoken in my sixty years? Will He hear, listening for the fear, heeding the tear, welcoming my plea for healing? And, will cancer fade into remission because my voice holds a thirst that I’ve yet to quench, a thirst for a future with the person who sits closest to me in the pew each Sunday, the person who rests his eyes on me first thing each morning, the person who is my person? Will cancer listen when I pray and will it listen when God says for its shadow to fade from my life, leaving only the slight impression of a memory where it once grew into a grief far more severe than the blackest night? It must listen to my voice, my prayer, my praise of the One who is my heart’s resting place at this moment when all else has failed and nothing on earth feels quite as warm as it once did. It must hear the voice of our Creator and realize that it has no right to consume the person that has been my person in good times and hard times. It has no right. It has no right. It has no right.
Wings settle on limbs
Leaving impressions of grace
My heart bleeds prayers
Lancing, shooting pain
Stabs to the left side - sternum
Doctor notes: Love lost
On the edge of my seat,
On the tip of my chair,
Sweating in the Doctor’s Lair,
Waiting for that sympathetic stare
And the news
That my slack heart
Needs a jump start,
Liver fails to deliver,
Blood is clogged
With choleric cholestrol,
Kidneys are more cesspit,
Than filtration device,
Belly fluff is full of lice,
Tonsils are shot
With boasting bacteria
Roller-coasting
Down my gullet
To a soirée
In the small intestine.
Inwardly I scream
And await the death sentence
On my organs.
She’ll tell me that
The years of gorgonzola
Gormandising and
Elevated caffeine intake
Have condemned me
To an early coffin-break.
Oh my aching mind!
I can feel the blinds
Descending and my
DNA un-mending.
The worms are wriggling
Down my spine
When the doctor says
“You’ve got a bit of a cold,
You’ll be fine.”
My father, an officer in army, his friend too,
A hypochondriac friend who was always blue,
Said I’m off to see the quack,
Doc said, odds against you stack,
Diagnosis: you’re pregnant Rex, out he flew!
The doctor of reputation agreed to consultation and a physical exam.
He began by saying while I was weighing, “I see you like your ham!”
He checked my reflexes and my solar plexus, everything from bottom to top.
While pulling my ears, and all my running gears, I thought he’d never stop.
He probed for hemorrhoids and body fluid voids as I was busy looking south.
While attending these essentials, I questioned his credentials, when next he checked my mouth!
Looking for a flaw, he said, “Say Ah!” while my mouth was agape.
With his big thumbs, he gouged at my gums. I had no escape.
A fearful moment caught us when my epiglottis gave a waving flip.
When he stopped to linger, I bit down on his finger till he lost his grip.
Regaining his composure, he felt it time for closure as my mouth snapped shut.
Then he explained, telling me straight and plain, while gazing at my gut,
“Son, your longevity is threatened by obesity—we’d better have a chat.”
I said with chagrin, “It’s a good thing I came in. I thought I was just too fat.”
Dear Dr Diagnosis,
Thank you for your concern and attempt to put me back together.
It isn't that I am unappreciative of your labors in fact I've rather enjoyed our talks,though sometimes they were quite painful.I concluded it was necessary to show you the depth of my pain, so that you might prescribe the proper mind fogging medications.I must say that your advice of "setting aside days to worry" and to just tell myself "it is what it is" were thought provoking.It took several weeks of contemplation to wrap my mind around the concepts and even longer to put them into practice.Although they have yet to bare fruitful as useful coping tools, I do hope that someday they will.
I also hope you are not to disappointed in not being able to fix me, it isn't your fault.You see I already know what has caused me to become broken, I have always known.The days the places the times are all etched very clearly in my mind along with the emotional turmoil associated with them.Without the additional help of a Time Machine to go back and steer myself away from the event's, they cannot be undone.So you must tell yourself "It is what it is" and perhaps schedule next Tuesday as your day to "worry about it".
I will give you just a bit of advice from personal experience and return the favor;
Abstaining from self medication with drugs and alcohol will greatly reduce future events to feel remorseful for. Keeping yourself busy and maybe becoming a bit OCD-ish will help you not to think of your painful memories. Embracing life and finding beauty where most fail to see it will increase your chances for happiness. And most of all forgive yourself for allowing others to give you these painful memories. It is part of having Empathy, Trust and being a Good Human.
Sincerely
Your Textbook Labeled and Diagnosed Patient
Hearing God's voice doesn't make you crazy disobeying it does Lord they are throwing the
baby out and drinking the bath water Commanded us to hearken to your voice it is written
warning of false doctors or teachers thier doctrine sorceries that turn men from thee you
said beware and now aware must warn others of false laree the diagnosis sorcery the cure in
need of repentance God is not a schizophrenic nor does he forget who he is propaganda
leads men's hearts astray like plop and fizz they made it an art taking something that works
to decieve men again God's not schizophrenic but your doctors self diagnosis maybe
Witchcraft has come along way from Egypt to jezebel spirits from sigmund freud's
fraudulences Carl Jungs junk and Adler's idle tales unholy trinity No I will not sign my name
fraud nor try to cause others pain applause sign applause To hearken unto God or men you
decide for by their sorceries they lie they of the their father the Big lie and friends for drugs
will only awaken a false god within for you see or if you yet will God is our creator not
entheogen this is your brain on sorcery See Jesus the great Physician first about your
doctors second opinion David L. Roshenhan's experiment proof something aloof recorded
and admitted unless you admit your as crazy as they are you may stay committed taking
their subcribes but before it was prescribed Get the hence in the name of Jesus Christ be ye
healed in his name If not you my end up with what's up doc. Dr. LSD turned off tuned out
dropped somewhere Timothy Leary as you watch snake oil salesmen on TV the gaper
dancer's with wafers tunes with Warning Labels side effects could kill you before you take a
pill red or blue read the Good Book Facts doctors kill more than guns and war check again
or you may end up with one with out a degree like Aliester crowley for you see the right
diagnosis from the Great Physician will save your life One wrong diagnosis from 100 doctors
is still deadly or read On being sane in insane place please remember If you would only try
to touch his hem So get a check-up from Jesus that will bind up the broken hearts and set
you free
Insanity
Is vanity,
The narcissistic cry
Of “I, I, I, I, I, I, I.
And happiness
Consists of less
Analysis, and more of trust
In Him Who fashioned us from dust.
Sammie is a Tabby by design and recognition as far as a mental picture would be
He first came home to us from a shelter as a kitten and made us a family of three
That was about ten years ago, and Sammie has grown and is a pretty big cat
But he is still very playfull and energetic and loving and like our child is his hat
He also wears the hat of older brother to little Pepper who came about a year later
He came to us from being a feral kitten among the many we would cater
Recently Sammie developed a tumor on the lower part of his right hind leg
We took him to the doctor and got a diagnosis that took us all down a peg
For the real bummer was that there are more tumors inside
So instead of taking the one off, he said to just let it ride
Sammies life will likely end he said sometimes in the next one to three years
So the news is not very good and it brought us all to share some tears
In the mean while we rub his belly where the tumors are all at
And pray for some majestic energies to be unleashed on our little cat
So if you also are of a mind to share a prayer
Little Sammie loves you and is so happy that you care
The doctor has examined the patient
And the diagnosis is clear
Terminal!
For the patient
A horrible death I fear
I am not one for the continued suffering of the patient
The condition will only get worse
Day by day and year-by-year
And will increase as the end comes near
This disease unfortunately
Has no cure
It not a virus or a germ
But something old and pure
Its existence has been known
And continues to endure
Attempts at a solution
Have been met with confusion
We have tried for a long time
To relieve the patient’s pain
Only to have our efforts
Die in vain
The patient you see won’t survive
But the evil that inflicts him
Will continue to thrive
Our solution both radical and insane
Will offer comfort and remove the pain
Kill the patient and all the cells
And the evil will no longer
Have a home to dwell
The world can no longer sustain the infection
It can no longer support the evil deeds of man
It will soon be time for the patient to be cured
Through the Resurrection
Eric (and sometimes not)
I was diagnosed with cancer today
and my doctor sadly turned his head
as he walked away.
The usual speech about chemo was read
and then radiation was discussed as he
as a doctor was lead.
When he was done, he looked at me and
said well honey in the days ahead there
will be more information to come.
He asked, How do you feel about what I just
said?
I smiled at him and said, Well Doc; I don't
have an answer for that right off the top of
my head. We stand a chance if we start real
soon, but know that at this stage there is a
a little gloom.
In that moment fear left my mind and I started
to for once think about time. Time with my family
and time for a bucket list but most of all I felt
there was no time for the things I had already
missed.
I shook his hand and thanked him for his care
and I left the office with that thousand yard stare.
So much to do and so much to say but for me it
would not be today.
Today I will go the ice cream shop and eat that
that thousand calorie banana boat my doc called
slop. Then to the ocean where childhood grew and
fish like crazy before the tide withdrew.
I made my mind up I would not fall apart and that
today is when my life would have a brand new start.
Skin pale white,
her hospital gown,
a moth filled wedding dress.
straps and shackles tie her down
like a corset;
more buckles and ties than Harry Houdini.
she frantically turns
toward the door
like a two year old
throwing a temper tantrum,
her hands wrapped around her body,
hugging her own hips.
Fingernails cut down to the cuticle
just in case she had any ideas.
Dirty blonde hair becoming static
as if she rubbed a balloon on her scalp
a head of tranquility, restless hair from sex.
Panting,
like a winded dog chasing its ball,
Her lips caught me off guard,
They were blue, not like
the cold midnight sky,
but a body
bound for hypothermia
longing for freedom from restraint.
That is my psychological diagnosis
Smooth, mapped roads
intersected with red-eyed
nights, quivering
nerves, fists pounding air.
A nightmare
descended as a phantom
snaking black shadows into
ebullient corridors
of light.
A hulking foe crowded his way in
uninvited.
Sun rose with belly chuckles,
banners, and presents,
touched the earth dipping
below the horizon like a
balloon leaking helium.
Chortles rang like bells.
Hero’s cape waved on
the back of a boy
like a flag snapping in the wind.
Legs pumped air, feet
thumped linoleum.
Birthday wishes tied up in
dime-store bows.
Red, yellow, and blue paper with
comic book heroes
piled in a corner.
Balloons, streamers, confetti
flew.
Family, friends,
and bouncing children
flashed white
teeth and upturned
lips gushing
unbridled
mirth.
The birthday song belted as
clashing keys rippled
flames on five
wax-woven cords.
A cake—
vanilla with strawberry
slathered with buttercream.
Superman soared above
candied skyscrapers and
whipped clouds.
A brackish, biting drink
drenched lips and tongue,
gorged up from the inner dark throb—
of marrow and bone.
A river of vomit like scarlet ribbons
out of a swollen, six-year-old gut,
He gagged— spewed.
Wide-eyed gasps and screams
of guests filled the room.
A foamy stream christened
the cake dousing burning candles.
Plunged into a crepuscular abyss,
a blank page filled
with scans, chemo, needle
pricks, caps topping
a hairless head.
A devouring tumor
inside a child— hiding,
savagely growing, slowly killing.
Lackadaisical Daisy thought she was always cursed,
alway's sneezing every single day since her birth,
around jobs she would linger,
never ever lifting a finger,
doctors diagnose was that she's allergic to work!