Well, let me just clear the air right up front,
I'm not here to badmouth the medical profession,
I just question their methods sometimes.
Let me explain, I'll ty to be as delicate as I can.
I went in for my annual physical with Dr. Jeff Jekyll,
besides, my adenoids must have been resurrected.
Everything went smoothly, until he sent in Nurse Ratched
to take my temperature. That woman has issues.
Now, I've had my temperature taken countless times over,
but nothing prepared me for this. She came in, smiled,
and told me to drop my pants and bend over the table.
It didn't dawn on me what was about to happen next.
She pulled out this thermometer the size of, and I'm not
exaggerating, a freshly carved Louisville Slugger.
Insertion completed. It didn't do much for my disposition,
but it did open up a hole new avenue for me to explore.
Watching a loved one struggle with addiction is heartbreaking,
witnessing a life full of promise languish in the numbness provided
by mind altering substance is difficult enough
but frequently relying on the medical profession to save them
when the break down of the body that comes
with using harmful chemicals surfaces, is excrutiating
and sensing the full possibility of a young life
limited to getting the next drink or hit
is something that can shatter your happiness
if you allow it to become your focus
The way I survive is to look for beauty
in the simple things in life and lean hard
on God, family, and friends because
life is still beautiful underneath the layers of pain
With a slippery substance, he doctored the baseball
~ showing no respect for the medical profession at all
camel and roses
Fresh bread still moist, spread a thick layer of butter
On the slice, few foods in life can taste better
Until the medical profession gives us a stark warning
It is no good for the heart and blood vessels
Guiltily I make another slice I will stop tomorrow.
Camels are with humps of water are cumbersome
Once I rode on one, its funny walk made seas sick.
Resolving the problem of too much milk is not my concern
Over drinking can lead to obesity or lose stomach
Specially for adults imbibing “white Cadillac” (vodka and milk)
Exponentially much stronger than beer.
I'm a bit concerned about the medical profession
Though I understand the importance of each scheduled session
But in the back of my mind
Can't help questioning it, I find
Mostly affects those most vulnerable on pension
Space is unknown, but we must explore it,
Without predicting what aliens we will find,
No understood language with no semiotics,
No ticked physicality to suggest a mind.
Life presents experiences, not systems,
It lets you accept others with openness,
No demands said for others’ modems,
Or pretences to aid liking or fondness.
If you welcome your society and culture,
Science and the medical profession,
Then you’ll take on the right posture,
For no torture, angst or condescension.
Bagatelle
You see a thing like the old olive tree
At the entrance of the village and take it for granted
Until you suddenly see the tree is dying
Yet, it has about it a none communitive dignity
And acceptance that life`s unplanned cosmic shortness.
Dying slowly, the medical profession are trying
To get more mileage but in the end the car mechanics
Of the body see the case as hopeless, but are bound by
The Hippocratic Oath and let us live passed our sell by date.
To be dead is to be unborn there is no second coming
Not even for a 300 years old tree.
Yet, the morning wakes us up with a dance on the duvet
And small thoughts take over buying, a pair of shoes
All those little bagatelles are the sum of our existence.
Although there's a lovely prep nurse
Cystoscopy feels like a curse
The lidocaine gel
Does not mitigate hell
I briefly hoped they'd call a hearse
Author's note: One of life's interesting procedures for some in this civilized country. This does create P-PTSD for some of us. This is a cruel irony of nature. I said to the most kind prep nurse, ''You have an unusual job.'' The response was that she is just there to help. The moral of the story is that staying healthy can be painful sometimes. These procedures are completely routine to the medical profession.
The dreaded Cancer, seems to me,
gets much too much publicity.
In restaurants, both fast and fine,
at parties up and down the line,
in hurried conversations at
the place I buy food for my cat,
the barber or the hairdressers,
wherever gather hims and hers,
the Cancer Chat is all the rage.
Why, one can hardly turn a page
of any monthly, weekly, daily,
but there is “Cancer” hearty-haley
written or advertised about
as if its fame must be spread out
to every cranny dark or light.
You’d think Cancer was boon not blight.
And clearly there is some obsession
within the medical profession
for keeping Cancer at the core
of physiological lore.
They pet- or ct-scan every inch
if we complain of ache or pinch.
Mention a pain, from toe to eye?
They’ll send you for an MRI.
Amounts of money much too great
are spent, as if to celebrate
the lure of Cancer’s beck and call—
I’m sick and tired of it all.
But please...don’t tell another soul
I’m sick and tired. Just say “he’s whole”
if they should question, give that answer
or I’ll be suspected of having Cancer!
Plastic surgeons think themselves Gods
As they try to turn back the clock
I think plastic surgery is nonsense
Trying to hold back the ravages of time
By nipping and tucking
And implanting and enhancing
It is an exercise in futility
People who have face lifts
Don’t look younger
Just permanently surprised
The medical profession
By trying to preserve aging flesh
Is approaching the problem
From the wrong direction
Would it not be better?
To transplant the brain
Of a mature man or woman
Into the body of a vacuous teenager
Then you could have fabulous sex
Followed by great conversation
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