Office Visit

The doctor will see you now,
she tells my infected sinuses,
my unchecked diabetes, my
lower back in spasm.
                              The doctor
will see you now, I tell myself.

The doctor will see you
in all your lack of sleep, your
odd-turning ankle; will see
that all the weight you lost
is not enough.

The doctor will see;
the doctor sees all.

The doctor will call for blood,
will ask me about cigarettes
and treadmills, eggs over easy
for breakfast.
                      The doctor
will do what a doctor must do:
remind me why both my parents
dead and deadare dead.

4 thoughts on “Office Visit

  1. tragicomic. You get to the point when the things doctors tell you to do would negate the purpose of staying alive. Sans-sel (no salt diet) is my sticking point. I’ll do the hour-a-day walk, gave up the fags more than 20 years ago, keep my weight down, but I must have a little bit of salt in my food.

  2. A synchronicity moment:

    The other night I had dinner with a neighbour, who is a doctor, and the conversation turned to different approaches to medicine in different countries. She was bemoaning the way French medicine was ‘out of the drawer’ that is seeing the patient as a condition (and therefore with an ‘off the shelf’ treatment). She felt it was different in Britain, being more holistic.

    Looks like you had the same experience, Ron.

  3. and sometimes what you got fights with what else you got, so that the meds for one eat up the meds for the other and condition A is the worse thing you could have to go with Condition B…and sometimes, oh happy day, they get together and make a new one, just for you.
    You have my sympathy, my hopes, and all the rest.

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