"Bad day at the surgery, dear?"

AKA: an unaccustomed bedside manner




MEDICAL DILEMNA

He calls my name
And in a rush is gone
for me to follow on.
By the time I am there,
In his surgery,
he is at his computer
looking up my notes.
Nervously I finger
the sheets of paper
I have brought here
and a letter
from the surgeon.
I am the patient,
He is the doctor
But he is treating
the computer screen
in front of him
rather than me myself.
His reality is my notes
I am but the cause of them
just wishing to get better.
I myself feel unseen,
and by the time

he looks me in the eye
my confidence is gone.

 

 

© griffonner 2023

 





Poetry by Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 141 times
Written on 2023-06-12 at 11:02

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It's the old problem, not enough time, too many Data analysts to accommodate, but yes, I can remember when I was small, you had a family doctor, who knew you, who you respected, who came to your home if you were sick, who cared beyond the confines of his desk. I can still smell the antiseptic of the waiting room. Dr Cheshire was our gp. Old school.
2023-06-15


France England
I understand this well written presentation to the maximum. Ya see what you've expressed through experience is indeed what many people have gone through but lack the confidence when it comes to being more than just being heard but understood. I found your words to be quite poetic, well written in good taste and it contained a heartfelt atmosphere that cannot be ignored. Yeah, we're just a shadow while an imposter via a computer screen acts as the patient. You're telling the truth for real! Bravo.
2023-06-12


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Fine poem, Allen. Maybe not the best one to read ahead of a visit to a doctor this morning.
2023-06-12