Here we go again
This endless medical routine
I bike to the clinic three times a week
To have my temperature taken
Then my blood pressure after I lie down
To have two pricks (the second one tends to make me wince)
Then have two needles with tubes protruding from my left arm
Cellphones and internet isn’t allowed
For the fear they may interfere with the filtering equipment
There is a portable boobtube
I listen to with earphones
Only six channels of shit on the TV to choose from
At least I know what shit I like to watch
Here’s that weird technician
She always talks past me, mumbling to herself
Annoying the hell out of me every time
But the one I like the most
Comes to confirm the “plumbing” was done right
I grasp her arm and whisper
What I cannot say to my unsympathetic spouse
“I want to die”
In her compassionate voice, she asks
“What is it that pains you the most?”
I cannot bring myself to tell her
“This procedure is not so bad
“It’s the remainder of my life that I find so utterly unbearable”
Her words soothe me
“Please keep coming just to show your face.
“It would be lonely without you here.”
With tears in my eyes
I sleep through the rest of the session
How many times have I gone through this?
The clipboard with my medical info says 110 times
Ah, remember how I used to feel so washed out?
At least I don’t feel that way anymore
My blood pressure may be low but it’s stable
And I get peace and quiet, time to reflect
As I watch others carted away in wheelchairs
I wonder if and when I’ll be in the same situation
I sigh my 999th sigh and ask myself
“How many times more?”
This procedure takes away four-plus hours at a time but provides me with life
But the one thing I really want back is
The freedom to take a long hot piss