The Doctor

Posted on April 29, 2012

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Sitting in the my chair filled with fear
Why do I a doctor care?
Patients, Ailments, their statements
Complaints, constraints, restraints all about pain
All expect my informed response, not disdain
My qualifications, quantifications and observations determine the evaluation of my observations.

My waiting room is filled to the brim
Patients young and old, looking grim
A visit to the doctor is no patient’s vacation
No one looking forward to the next visitation.

They dread, I dread what we will find
Diagnosis is horror anticipated
Clarity; the expectation
How do you say patient you are dying
Your heart palpitations, valves not applying
Children’s fear of vaccinations: crying
Efforts to calm them, no one buying.
All they want is a transition from ailments, to fears to cures.

Why did I a doctor be
Considering the frailties of the human body I see
The workings of the human body beyond me
Its intricacies doth amaze, believe me
Blood pressure; we can measure
Injections and needles anything but pleasure
X-rays betray, blood tests delay, the results not always a treasure

To be a doctor is no small feat by measure
Time consuming, not always an adventure
Very few get past the vetting of being measured
To be considered worthy to deal with the intricate human body
And be called DOCTOR

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Posted in: Poetry