David's doctor visit haiku triggered a memory of a visit I made several years ago.
Ray

---

Chest pains!

A voice in my head says ‘have it checked’, but another voice, the one that likes the lawn to get long before mowing it, says: “just a muscle spasm, don't worry about it.”

One day passes, two, three … seven now. The pain has ebbed and flowed, but not gone away. The possibilities dance through my mind: heart attack, cancer, ulcer, kidney stone, gall bladder—the list goes on and on.

And, I drive to EMERGENCY.

The triage nurse asks how long I’ve had the pains. I confess to only 2 days. She pats my hand: “You mustn’t wait when you have chest pains. Sit over there and we’ll take you NEXT.”

“NEXT!” That NEXT echoes in my mind. Who gets immediate attention in an emergency ward? I imagine metal tongs prying my chest open, a quadruple by-pass, a dead person’s heart being jammed into my empty chest cavity.

Soon, I’m squeezed into one of those tiny hospital gowns with too many personal parts hanging out. They draw blood, take temperature, read blood pressure, administer ECG, x-ray bones—everything but floss my teeth.

Wait time ... minutes like hours ... white coats pass by, but none stop. Have they forgotten about me? Or, better, perhaps they’ve decided to ignore me because there’s no immediate problem.

My imagination's evil doctor, the one with the pencil line moustache and snide smile, whispers to the charge nurse: “As punishment for waiting seven days, let him sit for a few more hours.”

I can’t quite accept the possibility of death, but related thoughts stream in: I should have done my will, pre-arranged the cremation, hugged my kids more, told someone I was coming in …

gurney wheels squeak—
the sound of a monitor
flatlining

Startled, I consider getting dressed, bolting out the door. I imagine orderlies dragging me back, the triage nurse’s ‘tut-tut’ as they lash me to a stretcher.

And, then, the DOCTOR arrives, no pencil moustache, scans the paperwork for what seems like hours, says: “ALL CLEAR. Guess you had a bit of a scare, eh? Next time come in right away.”

viagra ad—
twenty old men dancing
in the street

Comments

[david giacalone]

I like this, but am left hanging about the diagnosis. What a tease.

reminded me of this oldie from 2005:

bad news
from the doctor –
voices through thin walls

[Ray Rasmussen]

The diagnosis was 'all clear'. Chest pains must have been a pulled muscle. Or, perhaps the diagnosis should have been "typical male reaction".

[janet lynn davis]

I enjoyed reading this, about the paper gowns and all--and really like the ku at the end.

Yup, I can relate--the several-hours' wait in the overloaded emergency clinic, a place I generally go out of my way to avoid.

[janet lynn davis]

I enjoyed reading this, about the paper gowns and all--and really like the ku at the end.

Yup, I can relate--the several-hours' wait in the overloaded emergency clinic, a place I generally go out of my way to avoid.

[Aurora]

Glad everything worked out fine, and that you got a great haibun out of the experience. :)