For CJF
“Sure, folks live longer nowadays,
But 65 is still no joke,
While my clear mind (still worth some praise)
Contemplates dusty flakes, evokes
A time when flesh was firm, not rot,
Not powdery shed detritus,
Crumbling stuff—then the sailing yacht—
My life—taut, heeling—noble sight,
Seemed all impervious. Yeah, sure!
That was before. Right now, I groan:
Titanium stud to secure
The tooth implant must bond with bone
For 6 months! Meanwhile, sipping tea
Must do. Then there’s my PSA!
Up over 7 suddenly—
Biopsy first, ectomy next?
Good news! A false positive. Saved
From surgery this time—but what
About the stress of dread? I craved
Some haven; terror’s what I got!
Which brings us to M. Marinum.
Infected finger, sore, a bitch–
Won’t heal—two months—gone red and numb.
Normally, this bug attacks fish,
Not humans. So what’s the message
Here? My tooth, prostate, and finger—
All under siege! Doctors presage
Trouble: deliver fierce zingers!
A fascinating path report
Nearly put me in a coma.
Something docs hadn’t seen before:
Necrotizing granuloma!
‘Necro’ is bad enough—no skill
Needed there. And ‘izing,’ you know—
‘Going on.’ Quite enough to chill
Without the ‘oma’s’ wicked blow!
Good grief, is there no sane escape
From doctor-defined evil japes?”
Sure! Learn sound and simple wisdom;
Putz, stay the hell away from them!
(7/13/07)