Thursday, October 05, 2006

Pilonidal abscess

How painful, how embareassing.

To the first doctor:
Great, you would be one of the parents
on my playcentre session.

To the second doctor:
You were nice.

To the third doctor:
You cracked me up
asking if you could butt in
because you had heard about me.

To the nurse:
Thanks for taking two attempts to find a vein.
Thanks for being so cool. I almost thought it normal
to feel like I was having a heart attack
after you pumped the erythromycin
so quickly into my arm. I barely remember
you administering the ECG and leaving me
to experience the crushing chest pains.
I'm glad that I only experienced one symptom
of anaphylactic shock. Wouldn't want to concern you
overly. But really , thanks , my life has been brighter
since this morning.

To the surgeon:
I used to think the surgeons arrogance
portrayed on Shortland Street*
was just a dramatic device.
I could feel the hand of god
speaking behind your voice
so commanding decisive
in your suit
deciding to delay
to some future day
the cleansing of my 'irritation'.
Sure I'll come back if it becomes a problem before then.
I do appreciate your priorities.

Finally, on behalf of myself and my underwear,
I would like to thank all
four doctors, two nurses and a surgeon
over two days at the hospital
for letting pus and blood
and congeal
and ooze
down my natal cleft
without once
ever cleaning
or dressing...

Your humble patient.

What you don't want to know

* a local soap


Anonymous swan_pr said...

well, I cannot be as poetic as you about this, but I did experience the pilonidal joys... for a month, while I was on a waiting list for surgery. it started as big as a pea, grew to a grapefruit, and actually went away by itself. I swear. I sympathize :)

Thursday, October 05, 2006 6:11:00 AM  
Blogger _Soulless_ said...

To the third doctor:
You cracked me up
asking if you could butt in
because you had heard about me.

I bursted out (no pun intended) laughing when I read that stanza (especially the second line thereof, read along with the term "butt in"... heehee). ^_^ This piece is rich, Glenn.


Thursday, October 05, 2006 8:05:00 AM  
Blogger Crunchy Weta said...

Swan ..great I was just eating breakfast! I hope that Canadian grapefruit are mandarin sized! At least you know what to say if ever asked what we have in common.

Soulless, you would be the perfect match for a triage. Hug me squeeze me. (even I'm not happy with THAT image!!)

Thursday, October 05, 2006 4:11:00 PM  
Blogger bradford said...

remember It IS called, "Practicing medicine"! Thanks for letting us stand to your experience.

Friday, October 06, 2006 9:34:00 AM  
Anonymous my backyard said...

Sounds like they let you get infected. What a bunch of losers.

Friday, October 06, 2006 1:02:00 PM  
Blogger iamnasra said...

What I can say with all these Im speechless...really

Saturday, October 07, 2006 1:53:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Glenn,
what a hilarious poem...i enjoyed reading it..thanks!

Saturday, October 07, 2006 11:21:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Poor you!! Great poem, lousy hospital staff!

Don't ya just hate that when you meet someone you know (ie playcentre dr)when you are at your most vulnerable. I had a drug reaction once, my tongue was lolling out of my mouth uncontrollably (damn anti-emetics!). Walked into the doctors surgery, wanting to die of embarassment and unable to talk properly (due to the tongue lolling thing), when who should be sitting at the reception desk, but a smug nurse from my student nursing days who wanted to know how things were going for me!

Hope you are getting better!


Sunday, October 08, 2006 11:32:00 PM  
Blogger ozymandiaz said...

Thanks Glenn
Here I was feeling quite in the dumps having to come back to work after a lovely vacation in the mountains and I then read your rendition of hospital hospitality. Thank you for the "there but for the grace of God go I" smile. And thanks for going thru such a hidious ordeal with some remaining sense of humor.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006 6:24:00 AM  
Anonymous stonepoem said...

A fine poem made all the richer by it's honesty and connectedness to a real situation. Sometimes poets dream, some times they sing, sometimes they just play , but here,
we witness a poet reporting on actuality and the result is very powerful and truthful.

Friday, October 13, 2006 6:02:00 AM  

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