Bunny Poems: 41 / 500

The End Of Robert

Rating: 3.0

The doctor said 'now listen Bob,
your illness is the serious kind,
and when I turn this silver knob
on your machine you soon will find
that all your pains will fade away
and energy to eat returns.
I'm sorry that I cannot stay
to help you with your deep concerns.'
He left and two male nurses entered
to prop him up and change his sheet
while one of them had Robert centred
the other pulled from wet-soaked seat
the bedding out and while they worked
they teased and taunted their old charge
but soon they tugged and pushed and jerked
for other patients were at large,
and had to be retrieved and fed
and medicated to the hilt
and settled back into their bed
where they would hope not to be killed.
Yes, my dear friends, the time has come
where care has given way to greed
I know this will be news to some
and shock you, since you have indeed
been fed a lot of useless hype
and have been told that doctors care
but let me say that this rare type
of 'carer' (yes, I'm being fair) ,
no one has seen him for some time
he went extinct in 1950,
the new ones live a life of crime
you tell it by their eyes, the shifty
and smiling twinkles to confuse
the suffering sod and next of kin
and if you dare and plain refuse
to take indifference on your chin
they do have special ways to smash
objections into smithereens
before you know you'll be just ash
they have the know-how and the means.

The specialist is coming now,
that's why the bedding was renewed
he will explain the when and how
to Robert, who is quite subdued.
Fresh talcum powder has descended
on linen of the starchy kind
so that no nostrils are offended
and he can speak his learned mind.

'Well, Robert, this is what we figure
your chances are as you can see
that of a lonesome jungle digger
who's lost his comrades, wants to flee
but is surrounded by the Cong
and only has his bible left
from which he now retrieves the song
although of hope he is bereft
I told you only gold could be
the agent that would bribe your foes
the same is true if you ask me
you can't expect to have these blows
that have been handed you by God
be wiped away by pocket money
no, what you need for that old bod
is not some magic Easter Bunny
or Santa with his bag of tricks
or a magician from Down Under
what you must have is one last fix
that will restore you from asunder
to what you once were in your Pub
a man of stoutness and of presence
oops, let me help you with that cup.
I am so glad you grasp the essence
of what I need to tell you here.
It is, I'm happy to report,
a matter of a lot of dough
a hospital is no resort
and we can't give a gratis show
your spouse was kind enough to sign
the special paper listing assets
don't worry all this is benign
unlike your system and its facets
we've taken 80 big ones gladly
and will require much more soon
your illness does progress quite badly
yes, let me help you with that spoon,
the chemo has been shipped tonight
tomorrow morn we'll hit you hard
and if it works, which well it might
it's up to God now, keep your guard
right up you must be optimistic
I told you that you had twelve weeks
with not a chance when they were gone
I'm proud of you, it's he who seeks
will turn the life extension on.'

The doctor went into the 'teria
where two more colleagues were relaxing
one said 'you got it, I do hear ya,
it's always good this special waxing
that's part of Medicine today
we're clerics who wax lyrical
and help to transfer lots of wealth
by quoting some empirical
new cure for them to gain new health
so what will be his new prognosis
if you don't mind, some fifty days? '

'It's more like seven but the blame
will rest with God and not with us,
I figure that it is a shame
that not too many have this plus
of being rich like this old clown
our world would be a better place
if we could put these people down
like they just did in Terri's case.'

Then they went out to Chez D'Argent
a restaurant for special palates
and ate the best that a Gourmand
can serve, right with the fancy salads
from Southern Greece, flown in by plane
the evening was a plush affair
they talked about how many sane
and clever people could not care
how much it cost to save their lives
and if it took a special pill
or fancy instruments and knives
it was a matter of goodwill
and trusting your physicians, yes
well, they arranged to meet again
next Saturday, with formal dress
it was a dinner just for men.

Meanwhile the week went by in haste
the chemo ruined his joy of life
his hair fell out, he lost his taste
and when she came, his lovely wife
he did not know who held his hand
although her voice did ring a bell
the nurses knew it was the end
one said that she could always tell
when in the corridor the Reaper
was traipsing in, with his own shuffle
he was relieving Robert's keeper
approached the bed with his kerfuffle.

It was the day of that big dinner,
the dress-up kind of all the quacks
and no one thought of one poor sinner
whom they had squeezed up to the max.
He'd paid his dues and extra fines
had been deceived it was routine
they served Gourmet Food to those swines
and Robert H. had left the scene.

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Richard George 15 June 2005

Real moral outrage - and a touch of Chris Morris! EXcellent.

0 0 Reply
Rich Hanson 08 April 2005

Extremely well written, Herbert. As always, I enjoy the poems that allow one an insight into your occupation.

0 0 Reply
Lare Austin 07 April 2005

Wow, Herbert I agree...this is very powerful...and so very true...you have superbly put this together...this is just perfect... Lare

0 0 Reply
Herbert Nehrlich1 07 April 2005

Thank you Chris and Kelly. I only wish I could write like either one of you. Funny the two of you would comment here at the same time. Yes, the medical establishment today is not about care at all. It is solely concerned with wealth transfer, from the patients' pockets to the 'system'. With a few notable exceptions. H

0 0 Reply
Kelly Allen Vinal 07 April 2005

Powerful, powerful stuff, indeed! Extremely well done!

0 0 Reply