Pity the elderly. Retirement should give them the opportunity to pursue interests for which they had scant time during their working years. Unfortunately , much of that time is being spent waiting, waiting on the phone to make their various appointments, waiting at the doctors office, waiting at the pharmacy, waiting at the optometrist, waiting for their flue shots and so on. Even more annoying is that much of that waiting time is spent while that time could be more profitably spent in bed. Here is such an episode that inspired the following poem.
ONE PUZZLED PATIENT
I face a puzzling mystery.
It dawned on me in the midst of misery.
Beset with a virulent flu,
My lungs gurgled with a nasty brew.
A week went by. I still was ill.
It was time to see the doc to get that pill.
I entered the clinic in good time
Sadly, there was very a long line.
Took ticket number forty -six.
When could I expect to get my fix?
Two docs on hand. Fifteen minutes each case.
A five and half hour wait I could not face.
My head ached. My ribs were sore
From the coughing, I could take no more.
My fever rose. Then changed to a chill.
I just wouldn’t last to get that pill.
Turning for home, I felt half dead.
I changed the clinic’s chair for my bed instead.
I had a good sleep, but still had that cough.
To the evening clinic I took off.
What luck. There were only seven there.
An hour and a half wait I could well bear.
What did I know? Proved no good at math.
It took more than two before I saw doc Pad.
To the pharmacy I went.
Efficient help was at hand.
“Give us fifteen for your prescription fill.
You can browse the store, if you will.”
Fifteen minutes turned to be an hour’s wait.
I left the store and felt like bait.
Once home and again in bed,
I thought of my youth and the life we led.
A fell on some harrows, turned upside down
Prevented me from going to the doc in town.
A message sent to the good old doc
Assured me, he would see me at two o’clock.
On his motorcycle he did come.
Through his glasses he assessed my bum.
From his satchel he took some iodine
And applied it to the wound. I did not whine.
“You need to heal, but you’ll be just fine.
Take this elixir to hold that pain in line.”
I was not the mayor’s, nor the banker’s son.
Just a poor farm worker’s one.
And yet the good doc had time to come.
As he, for those in need, had always done.
Physician, pharmacist, manager, all in one,
Most efficient his practice was run.
Another seven days have now gone by.
My cough is still there and quite dry.
Fifty bucks for fourteen pills
Got me barely over my chills.
Doctor Pad did impress to tell:
“Come back, if this doesn’t make you well.”
What strides our modern way has made.
Receptionists, physicians, nurses, aids,
Pharmacists, pill counters, file clerks,
Counter help, computers with all the works.
And none are as efficient as that country doc.
You could count on him to come, and beat that clock.
VP Dec. 6, 2007 -All rights reserved
P.S. I am not a belligerent man. Just a puzzled one.
