I wrote this after a particularly frustrating visit to the doctor. Lighthearted stuff…
Aspirin, Valium, Anadin, Omeprazole
Codeine, Brufen, Tramadol, I’ve had them all.
Diazepam, Prozac, trippy amitriptyline,
heads-a-spinning, tills-a-ringing, glorious carbamazepine!
HRT’s a patchy fix as tablets or transdermally;
Doctor Death is happy to prescribe them all quite merrily.
If arthritis gives you gyp, if you’ve had a broken hip,
don’t despair, the doctor’s there, he’ll prescribe a drug to sip.
Knock it back, swallow whole, take the jab (“it’s just a prick”)
Doctor Death will sort you out, she will stop you feeling sick.
Vaccinate, inoculate, protection while it’s not too late.
Constipation consternation, pills to make you defecate.
Are you feeling dizzy, pet? Have you called the doctor yet?
Don’t hold off if you’ve a cough. For ulcers you’ve got Tagamet.
Keep yourself out of the sun; jogging isn’t good for knees
Stop laughing if you don’t want wrinkles, stop your children climbing trees.
Danger lurks on every street and Doctor Death lives well on it
Don’t put your faith in cannabis or mumbo jumbo new age cures,
Reiki, reflexology, holistic healing reassures
but Doctor Death outlives them all, he alone can sign you off:
“She died of cancer, heart disease; he died of rickets, whooping cough.”
Doctor Death can’t give you, though, your longed for happy ever after.
On my stone, the words will read: “Another woman died of laughter.”
When you’ve had enough of grief, of fear and crying, rage and sorrow,
Laughter lands like soothing snow to help you to forget tomorrow.