Originally Posted by
Tai Shi
My friends and family marvel at my poetry, my ignorance of heart.
I do not deserve this marvelous toy sung when eighteen years old
Seventy-one years less than a fortnight of that body, marvelous
Toy, I have no doctor who realizes nothing of my skeleton, defied
Hours before, doctor away from me, slanting was chastised for critical
Patient told He could not distinguish good from bad, he had argued
No longer to treat me, my pain growing, said no place alleviating
Marvelous sigh to possible shatter point. Perhaps I relive death
If tumor, seek doctors who will care for me skeleton on system rely on
Pain as system resets itself. I have learned doctors can decline to treat
Patients, when openly criticized, can choose to leave patient
No warning, leave body, toy of growth within child become old
Die at seventy-one with a patient seeking remedy and relief, nothing
May deny calm poetry, five minutes, perhaps when that patient
Cannot drive, must be home with pneumonia, in his own home,
Nothing leaning can treat any patient to determine reputation?
This Rheumatologist has told me he will not treat me because
I was openly critical of his remarks, he believes me not that,
I am losing sight, that I have Uveitis in right eye, that I cannot
See as well, is it coincidence or have doctors decided no treatment?
Gassho
sat/ lah