From a Flu Bug to Infection — What an Ugly Misdirection
Photo by Kelly Sikkema
The Doctor said, “Alas, but no,
The flu should now be done.
I suspect that it has slowly turned
Into an in-fec-ti-on.
For the next six days, you’ll need a shot
In your fleshy bum
As you wait to see what transpires -
You might want a shot of rum.”
Oh, me oh my, I thought
as I went back home to bed
To contemplate that surely
It was something that I’d dread
As that would mean I’d drive then wait
in line while feeling ill
Amongst so many others sick
Who’d need more than just a pill.
I wouldn’t be the only one
To wish for the line to dwindle
There’d be mothers and fathers with children who’d wait
No friendships could I kindle
With my limitado Spanish skills
My words would then demean.
Trying sign language with a smile
To me, seemed quite obscene.
Being in Mexico is hard
When not knowing much of the line
To some, seeing a lonely tourista,
She or he might as well be a flamingo.
Most people are kind, but see me, us, as outsiders,
Some resentment I’d see
while I took up precious space
Is what really bothers me.
So, behind my mask, I’d give a smile
Hoping that they’d see
All my good intentions
And knowing that I’d be
Just another person
Who had come to see the Doc
And there was no reason to resent me
Or reason for small talk.
Photo by Online Marketing
I decided to arise early,
to be the first in line,
To get my shot and then be gone,
To me, that seemed divine.
And so, I did that very thing
Of waiting all alone
But the doctor was late to arrive
And I wished I’d just stayed home.
At least I got it over with
Without the big, long line
And knew that it was easier, for
Standing alone was fine.
Until the line began to build
Waiting for the Doc’s white coat
To be spotted as he’d hurry forth
Carrying his little tote.
Since I was first, I was glad
To get it over with.
I was even happier that
I was not fourth or fifth.
The next day I was early once more
But was very disap-point-ed
That there was already a line
Which made me feel disjoint-ed.
Two men and three women
waited im-patient-ly
Thinking that the door opened at nine
As the sign stated in-accurately.
I knew the Doc arrived much later
Whenever he saw fit
But normally it was 9:30
or later just a bit.
Two of the women
soon left in disgust,
Which made me number three.
More came up, looked at me with distrust
And was told where they had to be
In line by the first man to be there,
Who seemed kind,
And was just trying to be fair.
Photo by Markus Spiske
He saw me holding
My packaged syringe and ser-um,
For in Mexico, all patients must bring
All things needed for the Doctors rhythm
Of checking your x-rays and things
like giving you a shot
You must come prepared
If you expect to get answers or not.
The leader man looked at me
And asked about my pack-age.
He could see all that I’d need -
An injection was the adage.
You’ll not take much time to see the doc,
He said, “And so you will go first.”
He even stopped my arguments,
With surprise, I thought I’d burst.
I was stunned at this very kind gesture
From him
And thanked him most kind-ly
Right then, and then when
I came out of the office
My sore bum no one could see
From my shot and I thought
In bed, I’d rather be.
My gratitude was mighty
And my pleasure kept grow-ing
From the kindness of that man
Whose example I’d keep sow-ing.
I got home, drank some rum
Feeling a nice warm glow
Knowing I was on the mend
With heart health I would sow.
The moral of this story
Is first, do not get sick,
But if you do,
And aren’t well quick
Go to see the Doc.
Photo by Kristine Wook
This the sequel to my poem The Dastardly Flu Bug and How I Began to Kill It. Read it HERE.