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Doctor : Angel of Life or Messenger of Death

Wrote this poem on the prompt -Doctor provided by ALS. Coincidentally it comes at a time when all I’m doing is watching my dad go to doctors- orthopedic, urologist, neurologist, nephrologist and the list is endless. With each doctor comes a bag of medication and a list of tests that must be done before the suspected issue is ruled out and another doctor is referred to while dad continues to complain and refuses to believe that maybe he needs to slow down and give in to age. Being a man used to controlling, buckling to age isn’t an option. And so the trips to the doctors continue and the hospital coffers fill.

'The good news is you're going to live; the bad news is you're allergic to cheese,'

On one such trip to the hospital, as I was awaiting the lift to book an appointment for a MRI session for dad, I heard an excited chatter behind me. Female voices between giggles drifted into my ears, involuntarily.

“I was shocked.” (giggle) ” Did you see what happened?”

“I did. The baby just fell off.” (chuckles)

“I had to stand on her stomach and push so hard.” The image of someone standing over a a women in labor was a little too much to digest and so I turned.

The group of medical interns were too engrossed in discussing the happenings in the delivery room to be bothered about me.

The third girl said, ” The kid just landed right into the bin!”

“Oh Lord!” I gulped thinking of my own deliveries and unable to fathom the plight of a new-born entering the world with a thud. That’s when one of the attendants at the hospital, patted my shoulder and pointed to the lift indicating it had arrived. I turned, leaving the group behind me, totally zapped.

Now to the poem which is based on doctors but has nothing to do with the above incident 🙂

Do you have any anecdotes, memories or horrors you’ve experienced at the doc that you’d like to share? Do so in the comments section. We could have a laugh or be wiser with each other’s experiences.


Life and death in His hand,

Each breath accounted for, each grain of sand,

In the grey shroud of despair, a silver lining,

A beacon light – eases our suffering…

A doctor good, God’s blessing to mankind,

Pray for him, if you do find,

A truth there is that is sad,

That there are doctors who may be bad.

A doctor bad, wolf in sheep’s clothing, a mercenary,

With him, pray you never cross paths; be wary,

An impostor he is- impatient, inarticulate,

A license to kill is his title, his certificate,

Rebuke these cowards who play with lives,

Sinners! Murderers! White coats with blood-stained knives…

A doctor good, a ray of hope…

Through pain and illness, helps us cope,

One with patient ears and gentle hands that care,

Brilliant of mind, strong of heart; unafraid to dare.

Brave soldiers with mighty hearts, filled with compassion,

A salute to them, envoys of God, healing whose passion.

Copyright©lifeateacher.wordpress.com. All Rights Reserved.

6 Comments »

  1. Just the thought that I have to visit a doctor scares me. I mean I might be perfectly healthy but I still fear them. It may be my presumption but every time I visit them, I feel they are making a mountain out of a molehill.

    Liked by 1 person

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