Thursday, 11 April 2013
To the Doctor Who Examines Me
By Arlene Corwin
(NOTE: This should be on every doctor's wall. It's on my doctor's, god bless him.)
I was thinking that this body is a unit and,
If you don’t see a pattern in the portions that go wrong,
Then perhaps you’re sitting in a chair to which you don’t belong:
Too tired, young, or not attentive.
How I wish you’d see the symptoms as an ocean bowl,
Rivulets connecting whole
To dams and sluices where the juices,
Pebbles, stones are formed within, all kin
To one another.
It is obvious that pain or pressure
Down a leg has a connection to the hip,
The pelvis, stomach, large intestine – let’s not skip
The knuckle bumps, hard private lumps
With their connection to the rest:
Cholesterol and stressed out parts
In hearts not happy pumping.
Always working to your best,
To fix a system that will not dissect -
One hard to see: a one-in-many,
And God knows, one hard to diagnose.
Yet it is your job to cure, find sense, be sure –
Which can’t be done
Unless you see the parts-in-one
Which, failing to do
Means you’re still too
Young and blind, or just not paying mind
[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]