Tomorrow is the day

1 minute read time.

Had my assessment.  All over in half an hour.  Seen by a nurse who greeted me with "hello David".  So reassuring to be recognised.  Soon home again after an easy drive.  But, I had to take a large dose of dexamethasone at breakfast and another at lunch in preparation for tomorrow.  At home my mind took off again and I soon became hungry as well.  Went out for a short walk to the village hall where there is an amateur art exhibition.  Pictures sent my mind into top gear, I was joking with others there and reading all sorts of things into the pictures on display.  Stopped at my old GP surgery in the village. Shut at 5pm on a Friday afternoon!!.  So I wrote this poem as I was so upset and angry:  What a way to run a service.

Indictment

The doctor's surgery
5pm on a Friday afternoon.
The old man stands outside
tired, weak and alone.

The windows are shuttered
the lights are out
and the front door is closed
but covered in notices
of things that give no comfort.
The old man stands at the door
tired, searching and alone.

There is no friendly face
To welcome him and show him in.
Where is everyone on a Friday
afternoon at five o'clock?
Where have they all gone?
Home to family, thinking
their work is done, leaving
the old man to stand at the door
tired confused and alone?

The surgery used to be a happy place
full of people talking
faces that they knew and loved
always so helpful and always there.
The doctors stayed
until they had seen each patient
until their work was done.
Now that surgery has died
the door is closed on Friday at 5pm
and the old man stands outside
confused, tired and alone.


Anonymous
  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Correction, this poem is NOT about my present GP or his surgery in the town.  My old GP surgery in my village is the one I described.  I left it for my present GP some 20 years ago.