Posted: October 15, 2014 in Poetry
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By David Allen

Waiting 15 Minutes

This time it’s waiting
For the ortho doc
To tell me the MRI shows
What I already know.
And there’s not much
That can be done.
So, why am I here?
He has the power of the pills
That I will swill when the pain
Becomes too much to bear.
So, here I sit and contemplate.
What pain reliever this time
Will be my fate?

Waiting 20 Minutes

Waiting in the examination room
For 20 minutes reminds me
Of days covering boring trials
When I was a newspaper reporter.
I wrote poems to while the time away.
The poems are coming!
The poems are coming!
So what if the doc is taking his time?
My brain is full of ink.

Waiting 25 minutes

It’s amazing how I have
Absolutely no pain now that
I am waiting for the ortho doc
To come and tell me
What bad shape I’m in.

Waiting 30 minutes

Does anyone know
I am here?
It’s been 30 minutes
And I fear
The ortho doc
Is on an extended
Coffee break
And his staff
Mistakenly filed
My chart away.

Waiting 35 minutes

Knock Knock
Who’s there?
I am.
It’s been 35 minutes
Since the nice nurse
Said you’d be right with me.
This is not right
With me.

Waiting 40 minutes

There’s the sound of laughter
In the hallway outside this room.
Does it mean the ortho doc
Will soon appear?
Is there something in my chart
Amusing him?
Is this terrible waiting
Some initiation prank
For the new patient?
Must not be.
I hear the footsteps
Fading away.
So, I wait.

Waiting 45 minutes

Well, that was quick.
After 45 minutes of waiting
The ortho doc spent 7 minutes
Showing me the MRI pictures
And explaining how bad
My spine was screwed up,
And that I need to see a neurosurgeon
Who will stick needles in me
To assess what to do next.

I await in dulled

'Mister Wilcox! Back in the little room! You haven't waited nervous and half naked the required 50 minutes for the doctor to see you.'

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