"mri" poems
kn , kn tha mai
Ye mjhe usne bataya
Leke insan ka roop
Maano, khuda MRi zindagi mai aaya
Shayad , bhul hi gya tha mai hasna
Lekin tne mjhe hasna sikhaya
Bas sans Lena jeena Nai
Ye usne mjhe hai bataya
Bas Dil dhadakne ko kehte zindagi Nai ye bhi ussine ehsaas karaya
Chod Di thi Maine
Jeene Ki ummed
Phir , mjko khudse rubahru , tne karaya
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
He doesn't need Intra Ocular Lenses,
To dismember my defenses.
Without a Stethoscope,
He can hear my heart,
He won't have to take an MRI scan,
To know where to start.
He won't need to inject a syringe,
To romantically unhinge,
My every multiplying cell,
Into a palpitating craze.
He won't need a lubricating gel,
To ****** and amaze.
He won't require to operate
Nor investigate,
Me from head to toe,
To plainly know,
That I'm besotted,
my insides knotted,
My better sense clotted,
In deep rooted feeling,
Of immense love.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But, it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
What Dr. Lector devours with fava beans, inside rots. Too much Chianti?
Not likely. Likely, not enough
but there has been much else. Still,
no amounts warranting any shy example of overload. Mild splurges,
done in high style equal
nothing in comparison to toxic
baths taken in industrial grindstone
mortors. And the payback?
Walking papers and abdominal lump.
Poke it and choke on acid reflux. Pop
more pills to keep it down. Downers
prescribed on more downers.
Feeling down? Have another downer.
What else can we do? Your MRI's
and ultrasound, unsound, do not
come with flag from foreign invader,
claiming this new territory for king.
So, blame it on the offal.
Blame it all on the offal for not
having guts and glory
to fight off its own infection.
And eat your chicken livers.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Where is the seat of psychic pain?
Are MRI's made to trace the vein
To neuron neighborhoods
Sealed, yet synapse connected,
One to another
By chain link fences?
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 9:44 PM UTC
*this poem didn't come easy. written amidst buffeting emo's, V will not be natural flow, probably flawed. You, self-chosen people, will come along, please, to see the process, and the proceeds too.
But as usual, the poem was write before me, needing only human kindness overflowing to guide the way.*
V
V words lord, excluding all others,
phonetic juggernauts,
never met a V word
that had no personality.
victory is the one word that
my/our brains
think of first.
sure there is vortex, victuals, veer
and valor exam,
the latter,
what ever it means is a gift,
curtsy-courtesy of auto-incorrect.
but it is victory
on top,
victorious in its own way.
try it on another if you must...
what is the word that starts with a V
that first comes to mind?*
so let us talk of victories.
so oft, I write in the dark,
even as I do now.
came home soul weary,
face worn-worry,
gotta go out to meet
Peter Bogdanovich later,
to chat about his latest movie.
woman looks me over.
X-ray glance,
an MRI of my heart,
no deductible charged,
but oh yes, a co-pay due, indeed!
Peter will keep,
tonight you're-mine,
to bed I send,
right after we consume
Large Thin Mush,
cause pizza with shrooms contains
mood serotonins,
that erase the
"pain of the day"
that be a victory nonpareil.
a Waterloo, a Normandy landing,
that be a victory where
both sides hug and kiss,
and make with their long,
stubby Churchillian fingers,
V's all night long
with goofy grins,
cigars and bowler hats,
just to go along.
so here I am in the dark,
having been "put" to bed,
one mo' time,
slicing and dicing letters
into a word-salade,
instead of resting.
dreaming of the day
when I can no longer need to
pretend to be a Seuss, but truly,
can be writing poems for all my
children~friends.
one for each letter
of the alphabet,
teaching us to write
upon our faces
laugh lines thin and fine,
mine, ours, yours.
product of pizza poems,
some that come not circular,
but tonite shaped
just like a woman,
just like a
V.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
in 2012 i experienced an incident with a rifle. my friend spinned it around and hit me in the face. the hit was hard enough to break my nose and make me fly backwards and land on the back of my head.
after that i started having seizures. cluster seizures which mean seizures back to back. they have to be stopped by iv or i can go into status epilepticus meaning continued or back to back seizures that can **** people. there have been several times where my heart has stopped or i stopped breathing from it. its hard to live with. soooo many pills, and doctors, specialists to help diagnose me. just about a month ago i was diagnosed with tbi (traumatic brain injury) before i was diagnosed i was so upset with everything. my health my relationship, my family problems. it just piled up so i decided to numb myself with drugs and alcohol. i no longer can do that because the last time i did i woke up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. i have right hemisphere disfunction and it effects my motor skills, speech, memory, decision making, confusion, and at this point the doctors say that my memory and confusion is dementia. sometimes i try to tell myself i don't need help, im fine, i don't need anyone, or that the doctors made a mistake. but they didn't and that was proven to me today when i saw my eeg, and mri. i have built up white matter in my brain. and it only gets worse . i can never regain anything ive lost but i can learn how deal with it and move on from now. i can never be independent in the part of just living alone. i would like to marry the man of my dreams but i don't think i want to put him through all of this. he would have to take care of me when i get sick, and i get sick often due to my weak immune system. one hit in the face and my whole body went out of whack. we also recently discovered that i have a bundle branch block in my heart which means it is a condition in which there's a delay or obstruction along the pathway that electrical impulses travel to make your heart beat. i have a dog that can smell my auras which are mild seizures like warnings that a big one will come. but he can only do so much . squeeze under my head and bark for help.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
I'm here to spread the news that.
Despite its bad reputation with people
Back surgery works like a charm.
When I was 23, I injured my back lifting weights
I began to have chronic back pain
I researched what was the best thing for back pain
And yoga came to the top
At age 28, I began 8 years of yoga
That I practiced every day
My back pain was reduced until my age of 35
When yoga eventually failed
I moved in to physical therapy
That worked into my late 40s
I was rear ended in a car accident,
With the car entirely totaled.
That was the beginning of the end.
Nothing "alternative" worked anymore
I felt like there were razorblades in my groin
I would fall for no apparent reason
And then could not stand back up
I went to my doctor about it
He said if I got a MRI, that surgery would be the next step
Since surgery has such a bad reputation
I skipped the MRI
I was riding horses at the time
One day, I went to get a horse in the pasture
I kept falling and could not stand
I thought it was due to the mud.
I had to crawl through the mud and horse ****
To get back to the barn.
I thought once I was on concrete
That I could stand
But I couldn't
The stable manager helped me
To the office.
I rested for half and hour
And then drove home.
We were watching TV
In our downstairs family room
I went to go upstairs
And in the middle of the stairs
My legs stopped working
We drove to the ER
I had an emergency MRI
It showed that my disc was entirely extruded
And surrounding my spinal cord.
I went for emergency back surgery.
The procedure was called a microdiscectomy
They just took the gel
Away from my spinal cord
And within 2 hours of surgery
I could walk again.
I noted how easy it was to walk.
After a few weeks of just weird stuff
Like lightning bolts down my legs,
My back entirely healed Within 6 weeks
And that was the end of 27 years
Of back pain.
I often tell young people that
I had an extruded disc that
Was older than they are!!
It's been 5 years now and my back is cured.
If back surgery did not have
Such a bad reputation,
I could have saved myself a lot of pain
Microdiscectomy has a 95% cure for referred pain
In my case, it had a 30% cure rate for back pain
I am in the lucky 30%
Back surgery does work
And every year
There are more advances.
I went to my surgeon
And gave him a present
And a big hug of thanks.
Spread the word!
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
i) up the stairs
red scarves and tight skirts
loose slacks and grey shirts
my how the landscape has changed
I can’t say that I love to be dipped into this *** of pretty
where the lipstick liner queens supreme
and the coffee is brewed to mitigate the colostomy retch
so I try a yellowed paper backed beat
but it held nothing to the shoebox diorama
of national care
where the alphabetised gates of ingress
more or less double as departure lounge
for the broken and spent where their god
might sit them on fashionably backed chairs
for the percentile of misplace repairs
or is it me that smells of warm ****
ii) down the travelator
a troll lives under the MRI,
moved on from the bridge by the gruffest of beards,
now working externally of the fable
beneath the table of the magnetic eye
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
I walk with a limp now,
Two of them in fact,
When I used to glide,
The strut of youth,
Was on my side.
Pain's now the game,
Moving more slowly
My worn knees are done.
The warranty you see,
has fully, finely expired.
Today they took MRI pictures
Of my knees, sized 'em up
For manufacturing,
A perfect, artificial fit.
Metal and plastic components to
replace my played out natural bone.
They assure me it will not hurt,
(Allegedly)
Surgery they declare will,
eliminate the pain and put
a spring back in my step.
I'll settle for the absence of
Pain with every step I take.
But, I'm pretty **** sure,
I'll never ever run again.
Even for we humans,
Built in obsolescence,
Is an unavoidable truth.
Man, getting old is really the *****
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
The plan was to break up with me at a coffee shop
That’s smart, I think
A public place, entirely neutral.
That didn’t happen
I got sicker
I couldn’t drive
I could barely get out of bed.
You still came over
You still said you loved me
You still said you wanted to be friends
You still walked away while I cried
I didn’t cry because of you, at first
I cried because it hurt to be awake
My body was tearing itself apart
Nobody was doing anything
I got better, not all the way, not yet
I have a plan for my body, now
I had an MRI today and I have acupuncture every week
I use every oil and ointment in the book
I have space to cry over you, now
I have space to be angry
I can tell your friends how you hurt me
I have time to listen and talk
You don’t want to talk
“I want to be friends”
That’s a lie
You don’t want to take accountability or talk about what happened
We gave each other a year of our lives
We’ve only been alive 18
And yet, you don’t want to talk
You just wanted to break up with me in the coffee shop
down the street from my school
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 11:23 AM UTC
Who is this young girl,
Thinking she has the right to be in my office?
I pretend to be nice,
I do all the tests,
After all, I can’t risk her suing for neglect.
I comfort her, by telling her it’s stress,
Indeed yes, this is all in her head.
I let her tell me all of her symptoms,
She must be a hypochondriac because how else would she have come up with all of that?
Nevertheless, so she can’t say I haven’t done my job,
I send her for an MRI and EEG,
I also use my favourite words:
I tell her it’s nothing sinister.
I can’t believe she’s wasting my time,
She has anxiety, her brain is all fine!
Now that I’ve ridden her off of my list,
I can move onto to patients, who are actually sick.
She walks in looking young and healthy,
Does she really expect me to believe her?
She’s too young to be sick, and all her tests say are that she needs a psychiatrist, not a neurologist.
I give the advice I’ve learnt from my medical degree, “just get on with life and do whatever you were doing. Go to university, you’ll be just fine! You can’t keep relying on your family forever.”
Poor them, they must be really fed up of her,
She’s just too lazy to make her own food, to get out of bed, to go alone to the toilet unaided.
Yeah, she can still go to university, it’s not like she needs 24/7 care in case she falls down the stairs!
I tell her she doesn’t need those crutches that she uses,
I tell her she’s wrong about social anxiety, although she says it’s much better and I’ve only known her five minutes,
She’s just stressed, her diagnosis is functional.
Six months later her MRI and EEG are normal,
But I already knew it would be,
I advise her doctor to sort her out with a psychiatrist, even though she’s already seen one because I don’t get paid to actually listen to people.
A year later and she’s trying to get another neurologist appointment?
We can’t be having that, let’s make her referral disappear!
She’s told an ophthalmologist she’s having temporary loss of vision, flashes of light?
Who even cares? It’s just in her mind.
She’s chased up how her urgent referral hasn’t be fulfilled in a month,
I guess I’ll have to write her doctor a letter then,
I’ll say it’s just migraine auras because when I saw her she was fine.
She’s only pretending to be disabled,
After all it’s functional so she must be pretty messed up inside.
I’m a doctor so people know I’m smart,
So I get good money,
I don’t need to actually believe my patients and look for things that are not obvious to see.
I’ll make sure she feels like she’s going crazy and will never be helped or believed.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
I can't feel my soul, but I'm certain it's there.
There are no MRI's or CAT scans of it
There are no people that make it glow like it used to.
But before bed, each night,
I put a pen to paper and it pours from my fingertips.
I don't know how else to explain it.
I'm sure it's there.*
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
Bitter.
Tangy.
Chest poking,
distress...
anxiety.
An orange peeled.
A tomato congealed.
Acid rising,
distress...
anxiety.
laughter.
disaster.
911 on the line,
distress...
anxiety.
Please stay on
until we arrive.
strobing lights.
harrowing ride.
11 hours of machines
distress...
anxiety.
1 year to a MRI.
1 year to live or die?
A Canadian health care story
distress...
anxiety.
Take some of these pills,
and call us in 5 years,
distress...
anxiety.
Quacks.
Waddles.
Going south.
http://www.robross.ca
Nov 17, 2009
Nov 17, 2009 at 10:33 AM UTC
Blood work. Glucose tolerance tests.
Appointment following appointment.
Cat Scans and MRI's. Radioactive liquids to ingest and fainting spells.
An awful rendition of some woeful soap opera is playing day by day updates on what is ailing my seemingly healthy shell.
Maybe it's hypoglycemia? Maybe it's not. Maybe the oxygen that my brain is writhing for isn't being delivered because options A,B, & C are the direct result of head trauma age 14. Or was it 18? Forgive me; I can't recall information lately.
I'm not even surprised that somewhere within my cells the ATCG format to my beautiful helix strands aren't aligned. I suspected.
Instead I go through phases of crashing emotions. Each wave more dizzying than the last. Maybe that's my blood pressure plummetting again?
In any case, the most consistent emotional response I experience is not questioning what, but considering the maybe. Maybe I deserve this? Yes. This may be what I deserve.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
I used to think this a term for athletes
Late in their careers
Past their prime
Yet I sit here now
Looking at the pill dispenser
Filled to the brim each day
Not long ago I didn’t even own one
Until the litany of trials and tribulations began
A never ending trail to doctors
Blood and ***** tests,
CT scan, then MRI, followed by
an endoscopy and an Ultrasound
Now four separate ailments identified
The fifth without a diagnosis
Stealth, planning an untimed attack
No grandparents, parents, uncles left
A dear high school friend gone at an early age
My buddy for many years departed
Now this
My youngest brother passing
Far before his time
A two week cold or flu sapping my energy
Then some bug decides to invade
So I curtail eating, on mostly fluids now
I feel weak
And exhausted
And washed up
Andreas Simic©
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
Pale
denim
overalls
cover the bear
waiting for Sarah
to return from an MRI;
polished shoes and white coat speak
to the four-year-old's mother. Child
embraced, parted lips radiate smiles.
In Teddy's ear she whispers, "It's all gone."
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Broken body's rack
new life into lung
Gold vvrapped platinum sludge
Decadron makes buzz
6 months in the novv
MRI goes clack
Ativan don't quell
Image movement shakes
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
Today I had an MRI
Worst thirty minutes of my life
However, my thoughts strayed
From corner to corner of my agile mind
From the beautiful woman in the foyer who spoke about her life
To life and it's wonders...
And the statistics of deaths
During an MRI
Irrational thoughts indeed...
But thoughts that are frightening
In that moment of need.
Funny what you think of...
When you don't know what's going on
When you're trapped by a machine
When you're trapped by life...
I wondered...
Will they remember me?
I remember the woman's fascination
With my long, golden locks
That touched my hips softly
Ha, at least they'll remember my hair.
That's something, isn't it?
Being known as the young girl with long, luscious golden locks...
If they don't see my writing.
It's something.
Before the MRI,
They said 'Think of happy things'
And then my thoughts wandered
To you...
Your beautiful smile
The way my heart flutters when you look at me
When you taught me how to dance
And we flowed on the dance floor
When I held your hand
And my heart skipped a beat
When you glanced at me
With such sincerity
And your name repeating in my head...
You, you, you...
My thoughts during an MRI
Are odd
Thoughts of life, thoughts of death, thoughts of remembrance,
Thoughts of long, golden hair
And thoughts of
You.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
The nurse wrapped a warm toasty blanket
around me as I waited for my MRI.
I wondered how many bodies this blanket
had warmed as folks sat
worrying about their perishable bones.
Then the thought came as clear as a bell
ringing, resounding, echoing from the apex of
a very high Himalayan mountain peak:
"I go on forever...I go on forever"
A gurney carrying a man in
obvious pain shuttled by.
I felt the sun rising over that mountaintop
splashing my face and
all the patients in the MRI room
“We go on forever…We go on forever…!"
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
All my poems just sit waiting
unwritten impulses of some things
midway between my brain and my eyes
to get one I sit back in my Barcalounger
and pretend my head is in an MRI machine
with the laser scanner looking
I pay the closest attention
silently mindful
of how much I think and feel
about what I see
and then a poem says
you never saw that feeling
you never felt that vision
you just keep running
from one stimulus to another
like a person who cannot write
you need a bigger Barcalounger.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
He was a new teenager
Went to the middle school down the road
From our decaying house that was below a great oak tree
Early red sky morning, riding his bike to that construction filled Hell
There wasn't a sailor in sight to give him a needed warning of that reckless car
He was hit, ****** and bruised but he was alright
I was only 6 when I saw him get patched up by mother in our bathroom
I was only 6 when I realized who I wanted to be
But my first realization wasn't my last
That new teenager became an adult 5 years later
Went to the community college down the road
From his grandfather's rustic house that was just like everyone else's
9 a.m., blue sky morning, riding his bike because his nearly blind eye kept him off the road
9 a.m., I wish he had sight in that eye, he would've had a warning of that reckless car
He was hit, ****** and bruised but he was alright
I was only 12 when I saw him take cat scans and MRI's
I was only 12 when he was diagnosed with something I only read in medical articles
I was only 12 when I realized who I wanted to be
Joseph Yodsnukis was his name, but we called him J.J. since I was born
I learned the alphabet at my elementary and I said J twice because of that name
I learned after 8th grade that cancer was ruthless
I was only 14 when I held my mother crying
I was only 14 when I saw a hospice bed roll out of my front door
I was only 14 when I saw him in his casket
I swear I saw him breathing
I was only 14 when I realized his name wouldn't cut my lips again
I was only 14 when I realized who I wanted to be
Who I would live for
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
The machine
Full of power
And
Strength
The machine
As I lay down my head
And ponder
The machine
Nurses help me lay down
Because they know
My body is weak
Compared to the machine
The machine
Known for only one task
The MRI
For which I become fearful of
The days before
The machine
I know I am fearful
But I am also strong
I step up to this massive creature
With pride and
Courage
The machine
I go into this time vortex
For hours upon hours
Bang bang bang
This life is a battlefield
The machine
Is not silent
But loud
It reflects my past
And my future
The machine
Reminds me of struggles
But also of the future
That I am so lucky to have
In front of me
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
An ordinary visit to the toilet in office
Who knows would bring an ordeal of ten minutes in my life
While turning the handle of the lock to exit
It easily dismantled to come apart on both sides of the door
Foolish was I who pick up the pieces
Trying to find out how to put back the pieces on the door
The door suddenly slipped from my hands
It closed easily and rapidly by the door closer
“Bang” was the sound so impressive
What came to me was the painful realization of being locked
How bad was the door latch which was still in place
Held in captivity I try methods to escape
All failed to work and I began to blame myself
Feeling sudden and helpless I started to worry
Would anyone come around by the time of office off hours
Three minutes, five minutes, six minutes passed
A man’s sound was heard outside the door
The comfort and hope he brought was so nice and sweet
Another nice colleague gave me encouragement and advice
He suggested to force open the door but failed
But I felt I was attended to and that was real
Then he gave me a small narrow piece of metal
Trivial and useless though it seemed
It proved to be my saving stick when I opened the latch without knowing how
Finally free after ten minutes
The feeling of freedom is magnificent and marvellous
I thank God for giving me this experience
Thankful to those nice guys who are so clever and helpful
They are like angels who rescue me from captivity
This is the best present I receive for the New Year
I decide to pay more concern to my patients
Who enter the MRI exam room in a temporary locked environment
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC