Paen to the Gods of Medicine

Written after three days in the hospital without any sign of a bowel movement and learning that the doctor wouldn’t release patients until they had one.

when you’re stuck
in the tideflats
of despair
and nothing,
but nothing,
seems to float
your boat,
you just’ve
got to
give a shit.

Nothing else
will work.
No amount
of whining
will budge
that heavy barge
of sorrow.
The only thing
that’ll work is
to just plain
give a shit.

Of course,
if you’re
an old fart
or just
a real
pain in the ass,
you can
get by
by mustering
a real stink.

But in the end,
you know
if you’re going
to right
your ship,
no amount of
hot air
will really
get you going.
You just
plain have to
give a shit
to get on
with your life.

6 thoughts on “Paen to the Gods of Medicine”

  1. Great poem, Loren — in fact, I bet that your skill here with making art out of pain and bathrooms could make the likes of Philip Larkin jealous….

    By the sounds of your post, I take it that you are feeling in better form!

  2. Actually I wrote most of this in the hospital awaiting The Great Arrival.

    I guess, as Leslie noted on my wisecracking right after surgery, a moment I only knew about after I read her entry earlier today, a sense of humor is an essential part of my survival skills.

    I do feel better, though, I resent the fact that it’s so sunny out and I’m not yet ready to tackle an outside walk.

  3. Even when you haven’t been operated on, a good crap can bring the Misery Level down a couple of notches. A simple thing, but a useful one. Have at it, don’t stand on circumstance!

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