Doctor Vs Patient Poetry

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Doctor Vs Patient Poetry

  • The patient will talk.

    The doctor will talk.

    The doctor will listen while
    the patient is talking.

    The patient will listen while
    the doctor is talking.

    The patient will think that the doctor
    knows what the doctor is talking about.

    The doctor will think that the patient
    knows what the patient is talking about.

    The patient will think that the doctor
    knows what the patient is talking about.

    The doctor will think that the patient
    knows what the doctor is talking about.

    The doctor will be sure.
    The patient will be sure.

    The patient will be sure.
    The doctor will be sure.

    Shouldn’t hurt a bit, should it?

  • Dear Doctor,

    I am writing to complain about these words

    you have given me, that I carry in my bag

    lymphatic, nodal, progressive, metastatic…’

    ‘…And then you say

    Where are your words Mrs Patient?

    What have you done with your words?

    Or worse, you give me that dewy look

    Poor Mrs Patient has lost all her words, but shush,

    don’t upset her, I’ve got spares in the files.

    Thank god for files.’

    Finally, also from The Poetry Cure,
    from Carole Satyamurti’s Out-Patients:

    ‘My turn. He reads my breasts

    like braille, finding the lump

    I knew was there. This is

    the episode I could see coming —

    although he’s reassuring,

    doesn’t think it’s sinister

    but to be quite clear…

    He’s taking over,

    he’ll be the writer now,

    the plot-master,

    and I must wait

    to read my next instalment.’

    The poets say it all.

    I have nothing to add.

  • Forgive me, body before me, for this.
    Forgive me for my bumbling hands, unschooled
    in how to touch: I meant to understand
    what fever was, not love. Forgive me for
    my stare, but when I look at you, I see
    myself laid bare. Forgive me, body, for
    what seems like calculation when I take
    a breath before I cut you with my knife,
    because the cancer has to be removed.
    Forgive me for not telling you, but I’m
    no poet. Please forgive me, please. Forgive
    my gloves, my callous greeting, my unease—
    you must not realize I just met death
    again. Forgive me if I say he looked
    impatient. Please, forgive me my despair,
    which once seemed more like recompense. Forgive
    my greed, forgive me for not having more
    to give you than this bitter pill. Forgive:
    for this apology, too late, for those
    like me whose crimes might seem innocuous
    and yet whose cruelty was obvious.
    Forgive us for these sins. Forgive me, please,
    for my confusing heart that sounds so much
    like yours. Forgive me for the night, when I
    sleep too, beside you under the same moon.
    Forgive me for my dreams, for my rough knees,
    for giving up too soon. Forgive me, please,
    for losing you, unable to forgive.

  • Doctor says take these
    Blue, pink and white.
    Why I ask?
    It’ll calm you down.
    I am writing poetry.
    Calm down.
    Blue: leaves me wanting more
    Keeps my vision in waves so that
    If I were to drive
    I’d be a fool.
    I like these, they make me ignore life.
    White: all my feelings vanish and objectivity takes over.
    What would they think of me if they saw me peeing on this hydrant?
    The officer says he sees me.
    I see him too.
    He checks my blue, white and pink
    He lets me free.
    He can tell I am in a cage already.
    Like I even care a little bit.
    I continue peeing.
    Pink: I am dog, a sad one at that.
    Who’s at the door?
    Who is that?
    Where’s my ball?
    Let’s go outside.
    I could swear someone was with me,
    Who was it?
    Nobody again,
    I wait at the door for hours.
    Pink and white: this lamp would look better shattered.
    Officer apologizes for being so rude.
    My body is warm and senseless.
    Everything around me is tragedy waiting to happen.
    Tragedy is relative.
    An un-shattered landscape is my
    Mcdonald’s Play place.
    Blue white pink: Everything in slow motion.
    The animated scribbles that were once human beings
    are no longer on a city backdrop.
    The city is now drab and grey to accent the black and angry
    Animated scribbles.
    I don’t know an officer from a swimming pool.
    Water surrounds me
    Could be strawberry jam.
    One thing I know for sure
    Is nothing.
    Nothing: Cold, rampant suicidal thoughts, alone.
    Everyone around me cares for me
    I am beyond help.
    I seek the doctor.
    Police officers
    I say.
    Yellow, Green, Orange. She says.
    Thank you doctor.

  • For you may need to strain to hear the voice of the patient in the thin reed of his crying

    For you will learn to see most acutely out of the corner of your eye to hear best with your inner ear

    For there are late signs and early signs

    For the patient’s story will come to you like hunger, like thirst

    From “Gaudeamus Igitur”

  • Doctors lead a Hectic Lifestyle to Keep Us Healthy.
    As a result they hardly get Any Time to Take Care of
    Their Own Health. On this Doctor’s Day, We all should
    resolve to Take Care of Our Doctor and Wish them Good
    Health to Show Our Appreciation for Their Service to Mankind.
    Wish You …

  • On the day when
    The weight deadens
    On your shoulders
    And you stumble,
    May the clay dance
    To balance you.

    And when your eyes
    Freeze behind
    The gray window
    And the ghost of loss
    Gets in to you,
    May a flock of colors,
    Indigo, red, green
    And azure blue,
    Come to awaken in you
    A meadow of delight.

  • doctors in the old days
    did more than read a book
    they made house calls on the cold days
    just to have look

    they brought the medicine
    they gave you what would heal
    they didn’t work for big business
    they didn’t work for a pill

    doctors in the new days
    call it medical care
    they drive mercedes
    they don’t have much time to spare

    they sell the medicine
    they give you what is next
    they work for big business
    they work for a check

  • Every night I lie awake
    And every day I lie abed
    And hear the doctors, Pain and Death,
    Confering at my head.
    They speak in scientific tones,
    Professional and low—
    One argues for a speedy cure,
    The other, sure and slow.
    To one so humble as myself
    It should be matter for some pride
    To have such noted fellows here,
    Conferring at my side.

  • We express our gratitude to the doctors in a simple way,
    Conveying heart-felt ‘ Thank You’ on Indian Doctors Day.

    Celebrated in their appreciation on First July, every year,
    And to honor great physician and patriot Dr.B C Roy dear.

    Since 1991 on his birth as well as death anniversary day,
    Tributes to the true Indian medicine luminary to pay.

    Doctors ‘profession is godly & noble helping mankind
    Angels in spotless white coat, in none others we find.

    Inherent smile, hope, courteous listening and fast walk,
    Psychological touch, empathy& patient customized talk.

    Baby is born to a mother and brought up by parents,
    But only a doctor can diagnose and cure its ailments.

    Cesareans, surgeries & deliveries go round the clock,
    Which doctors sacrificing self comforts face like rock.

    Her or his care, commitment, precision and expertise,
    Ought to be praised and acknowledged by all the wise.

    Challenging and risky surgeries are accepted to dignify,
    Their brave medical profession and their best they try.

    Ramayana was directed not merely for financial gains
    Ramanandsagar longed to live in his TV viewers’ veins.

    A surgeon acquires special skills and courage– wonders,
    Trusted the Best, only before him one easily surrenders.

    He or she operates not being almost right, but only exact,
    Puts best of his/ her body, mind heart, soul and, intellect.

    Biggest fear to the patient is the fear of ‘the unknown’.
    Only till an expert gives firm opinion on reports shown.

    As a sincere, doctor gets promoted or in age advances,
    Her humility, love and concern for patients enhances.

    A sight of a person wearing in her neck a stethoscope,
    Gives patients and relatives in wards, a life, new hope.

    Wards’ round by very senior and junior doctors’ teams,
    For patients cure& developing juniors logical -it seems.

    Working up to 40 hours at a stretch during his internship,
    Is possible as his attitude elevates work to love& worship.

    No lunch break, no leaving OPD, till he examines all patients.
    Respecting their individualities, valued queries & sentiments.

    Cursory glance of his old patient reflects him his past history,
    Patients’ confidence inspired in him, he considers his victory.

    A PGI –HoD, wishes- on his departing bed his expressed will,
    His body must never touch any non- Allopathic powder or pill.

    Even though it ensures his survival for one or two full year.
    Stamp of non- allopathic means on his soul ha can’t bear.

    He thinks it a disgrace to his intrinsic medical profession.
    What a dedication and integrity! We must learn a lesson.

    With current Indian patient doctor ratio of about1700 to one.
    Nothing rapidly better for all patients’ care can really be done.

    Doctors still work sincerely for hearts of all the patients won.
    Often considered as better friend, brother, daughter or son.

    Best of the doctors’ at about 45 is that happy they remain,
    Harmony among required life balances they do maintain.

    Maximum of 0.5% of 7 lac Indian doctors may not be honest,
    Distorted news, vexatious interests should never defame the rest.

    Opting strenuous medical stream & not thinking of brain drain,
    Grace of God, blessings of patients and mental health they gain.

    The Day is an opportunity to appreciate entire Medical profession,
    For doctors’ duty, grace, integrity ,latest knowledge & compassion.

    The Poem was like a baby, easy to conceive but hard to deliver-‘send,’
    Gestation- 1st July 08, to pay tribute to Dr..BCRoy’ Gandhiji‘s friend.