Thursday, August 13, 2009
A Poem From The Hospital
Began the day with brushing teeth
Like other days, lungs gave me grief.
"Port placement will be first thing," they say.
I change my shirt, and I'm on my way.
Then pulse climbs high, O2 drops low.
The sweat starts seepin out.
Time for freaking-out-relief.
My lower lip begins to pout.
No valium says the nice P.A.
It will mess up your sedation.
Oh me, Oh my, "I'm freakin' NOW-
"Don't you see the situation!?"
Dr. U-Bird^ and his friend N-pregg^
came to have a calming chat.
Then ativan helped us all out
I was calm, and that was that.
In the scary surgery room,
I fell fast asleep and don't recall
They made some cuts and balloons and such
That is my memory, none at all.
I slept it off, my head did hurt.
My chest felt sort of odd.
I wake up later, groggy at first
Not too much to check my bod.
My port placement looks so super nice.
My boobs, I checked 'em double twice.
Not too high and not too low.
Sex'll be great and it still won't show. *in clothes
The day goes on and then it ends
Not yet going with the flow
I try to rest but feel awake
Despite the Oxycodo.