Doctor knows best

Last year I had an operation for breast cancer. This poem is based on my discussion with the doctor regarding follow up treatment. 

So here’s the deal,

You’re 61,

Getting on,

But more to come.

 

We found a tumour,

Took it out,

Good clean edges,

Round about.

 

So now we go

into phase two,

and this is what,

We do for you.

 

We take high energy,

Radiation,

And zap your cells,

Into mutation.

 

This will destroy

The DNA,

Of any cells,

Caught in the way.

 

This causes damage,

To your lung,

Will weaken bones,

Shall I go on?

 

Will make you tired,

Will make you sore,

Could cause hair loss,

And there is more.

 

The radiation we

Pump through,

Might clip your heart,

It does a few,

 

Your arm may swell,

Your shoulder stiffen,

Will make you weak,

Now that’s a given.

 

And once we’ve done,

With zapping tissue,

We give you pills,

On regular issue.

 

They block your hormones,

Make you fat,

For just five years,

You can live with that.

 

Your joints will hurt,

Your muscles achy,

Your hair and nails,

Will go all flaky.

 

Your bones will thin,

You may get fractures,

Hypertension,

Itchy patches.

Fatigue, low mood

and dizzy spells,

Your brain will fog,

Your wrists may swell.

 

The menopause,

Will dry you up,

But you can use,

That jelly stuff.

 

Night sweats, hot flushes,

Red hot, then colder

You will soon feel,

Ten years older.

 

It’s not all bad,

Don’t be downhearted,

Just sign the form.

And we’ll get started.

 

What’s that you say,

Why hesitate,

We’re helping your

Survival rate.

 

We’ll give you

Other medication

For side effects

From what you’re taking.

 

So sign here on

The dotted line,

Trust in us,

That all is fine.

So you reject the

Help we’re giving,

Say sod survival,

That’s not living.

 

We understand,

That you’re ignoring,

Our advice

But heed our warning.

 

No radiation,

No backup pills,

You run the risk,

That you’ll get ill!

 

copyright@dellareynolds2017