More on Beds

 

 

I’ve grown accustomed to my bed –
Can hardly bear to leave it;
By day and night I’m to it wed,
And then need to bereave it;
For every hour, don’t you know,~
I must get up, and need to ‘go’;
For days and nights now, this is so ~
And I hate to perceive it.

On Friday got a summons clear,
‘Come to the Clinic, must be here
Quite well within the hour’;
I rushed to meet with this request
And in the circs. I thought it best
Not even first to shower.

They said, ‘To hospital!’ Oh, woe!
‘Don’t get two hundred,  don’t pass GO;
A bed is booked, so go there!’
In no time I was in this bed
And with all sorts of drips was fed;
They certainly aren’t slow there.

My immune system needs to build,
So with protection I am filled
Against next Chemo session;
Dripped countless pints of Vitamin B,
Antibiotics, blood transfusions, see,
To stop a health regression.

And all the time with needles poked;
‘I feel like a pincushion,’ joked,
With blood tests being given;
On Monday they were satisfied
And I released to go outside
And back at home go livin’!

© December 2019 Colonialist