In The Hospital Waiting Room Poem by Pete Crowther
In The Hospital Waiting Room
Not feeling like a chat that afternoon
in the hospital waiting room, I sat
at the back in a row of empty chairs.
I didn’t have long to wait before
I saw him coming, slightly shuffling,
but purposeful, across the floor
to occupy the chair right next
to mine — “You can get them here for free,
they’ll charge you for them at the chemist.”
“What? ” — “Urine specimen bottles.”
“Oh! ” — I didn’t want to know.
“They test you nowadays for
everything — just dip it in
and they can find all sorts of things
gone wrong with you, no messing.”
Oh! ” — I didn’t want to know.
“I had my results last week,
after my operation...” Just then
to my delight I spied my wife
beckoning me to come, so
“Sorry, mate, I’ll have to go”
and all the gory details of your cherished op.,
thank God, I’ll never get to know.
Yes, a slice of life, an unpleasant encounter redeemed by being made into a poem.
Glad to see I'm not the only one who feels like this in these situations, Pete. Warmly, Gina.
I am going to make a sign out of this poem and wear it round my neck the next time I'm in a waiting roon/on a train/standing in a queue... Hugs Anna xxx
I agree with everything Raynette said (including the sign on my forehead) . Great poem. What op? ? ? ? You didn't tell me but listened to all my moaning about mine. Naughty, naughty man. Love Gyp's
I could identify with this, Peter. I seem to have a sign on my forehead that says 'Talk to me. I'll listen, ' and so I attract all sorts. You wrote this well but I think it should have been named 'I Didn't Want To Know.' Raynette
I loved reading this one. I'm glad your wife came and saved you before that guy bored you to death :) . Peace.
Thank you for writing about things I don't want to know, but can't help thinking about. Julia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 10:52:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A piece of life, poetically sliced. Lovely. Susie.