By Donald James Dolby

As you lay gasping on the floor
A face looms large above
We’ll try to sve you it assures
But you have to tell us where to go.
Which hospital do you want?
Which doctor would you like?
Which nurse, which bed, which ward, which floor?
What colour sheets?
Pillow, soft or hard?
The choice is yours –
it’s what you want – isn’t it?

As I lay gasping on the floor
I barely heard a thing
What hell is this – a cloudy thought
I’m dying here and all you seem to want to know:
Do I have sugar in my tea
Hospital, doctor, nurse – you want me to choose!
Please – the nearest hospital,
the best doctor
the most caring nurse
is all we ever want.
I do not want to have to choose
When lying near to death
Don’t make me choose – just take me there
I uttered with my dying breath.

July 2008

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