Here's Alison: The Doctors’ Centre
Alison Ross’s poem suggest that a second, and even a third, medical opinion is required to deal with a touch of flu.
Now back in early August, I had a touch of flu
So I put myself to bed, for a day or two
But after near a week, still feeling pretty bad
Dr. Thingamy was advised, and that wonder-lad
Who had so many patients who were getting sick
Thought a box of Panadol would surely do the trick.
He also warned that bed was the safest way
But I was a working girl, so I needed all my pay.
Then the symptoms they were worsening, so I went to Dr. Cureit
Feeling so much put-upon I hardly could endure it
He pumped me full of vitamins, accompanied by a talk
But he didn’t use a needle just his little three-pronged fork!
He prescribed me penicillin and because I was so shoddy
A little bottle of his special coughing toddy.
So back home I went again and as the days went past
I finished all his medicine, right to the very last.
And still my chest was sore, and my throat was like a furnace
So back to Dr. Thingamy, this time I was in earnest.
His conveyor belt conveyed me, into his little place
‘Kill me please or cure me, I cannot stand the pace’
In three minutes I was out of there, still feeling very ill
But clutching a prescription, for another wonder pill
Then home to bed I went, and three times every day
I swallowed all his medicine, but still, I’m sad to say..
I wasn’t any better as I told my story with a sob
When I rang the Doctors’ Center and talked
To the charming Doctor Swab
I really did consider, if invitations I should make
To give the ‘ Clever Doctor Boys’ an invite to my wake!
But Dr.Swab prescribed more pills said ‘Chew yogurt with your cud’
And sent me down to Vampire House, where they stole my blood
He said “Come back and see me next week” I muttered that I might
But the funeral, now is cancelled folks, cause someone finally got it right!
