"neurologist" poems
N. N is for neurologist.
What does the neurologist say?
“Nothing seems to be wrong.
Your net recall seems normal.
You seem to remember most nouns and the news.
Nothing serious,
No need to worry.”
I don’t quite remember driving here.
This is Bethesda, right?
And your name is…?
P. P is for psychologist.
The P. is silent.
So is the psychologist.
I talk and talk.
My energy level is high today,
even though I got no sleep last night.
I want to write a poem and run a partial marathon.
I love people.
People are so beautiful.
“Only connect,” said E.M. Forster.
Am I talking too much?
How does that make me feel?
Just great! Not like yesterday,
when I wanted to jump into the Potomac
from Key Bridge.
P is also for Potomac.
The psychologist speaks.
I need a new pill.
E. E is for endocrinologist.
What does the endocrinologist say?
“Eat. You’re an enigma.
You are losing weight.
We don’t know why.
We’ve checked everything
and can’t find evidence
of enemies in your endocrine system.
Enjoy some eclairs, eggplant, eggs benedict.
Life is short, endulge!
Hopefully not too short.
O. O is for oncologist.
Oh.
Oh oh.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 11:22 AM UTC
Devised by Cosmic Boss
Sourced by parents
Aided by obstetrician
Nursed by pediatrician
Nurtured by nutritionist
Counseled by sexologist
Treated by orthopedist
Stressed by physiotherapist
Directed by dietician
Nudged by nephrologist
Nerved by neurologist
Contained by cardiologist
Consoled by psychologist
Interspersed by dentist,
Sighted by ophthalmist
Conditioned by physiology
Terminated by mortuary
The inexorable Lifeline Express
Of hospitalized hospitality
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
I seize in the day, I seize in the night
Convulsions plague me throughout my life
The stiffness comes, And then it goes
But the worst is afterward, when I’ve discovered that my friends can turn into foes
The mere sight of it has scared them off
As a result they laugh, taunt and scoff
I seize in the day, I seize in the night
Medicines plague me throughout my life
The neurologist says “Let’s try this one”
Dilatin, Depakote, Tegretol, Topamax
They try my last nerve, Until finally I say
“Haven’t you tried enough on me, you quacks?!?”
I seize in the day ,I seize in the night
Must I wear a “dogtag” for all my life?
This little tag, on my necklace, it labels me
Can’t you see the medical symbol and on the other side in big bold letters “EPILEPSY”
It’s a ****** on the self-esteem
It’s a reminder that I belong to a different regime
One of a nature gone to extremes, If that is what I let it be
I seize in the day, I seize in the night
I don’t give up, I say to my brain and my soul, “Fight, Fight, FIGHT!”
I’m frustrated and don’t give up
Although there are times when I want to, I don’t.
I’ve been a fighter from the day I was born
And in the heat of this battle of neurons and neurologists
My determination and perseverance were forged.
The more I seized, the more I fought
Through the trauma of it all, lessons were learned and taught
And the more I seized, the more I realized
That Epilepsy was a lesson in Serenity.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 5:09 PM 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
Sometimes when my mind drifts
it goes back to endless hallways
and that all too familiar scent
overtakes my senses
My spine actually cringes
at the thought of the needles
piercing the central nervous system
they forgot to numb
my thoughts swim in the pools
that formed in my mother's eyes
as she quoted the neurologist
"your son is dying."
I can still taste the confusion
that drowned my confidence
and left me wondering
if it'll ever resurface
my dreams never stopped crying,
if they even have the chance to exist
they're nothing short of terrifying,
nightmares replaced the rest
it's odd that I can remember
the sickness that consumed me
but completely and utterly forget
the happiness that prequeled it
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
You're gorgeous I mean outrageous
God tore you from His book
Pages
I long to be your boo
Code blue
Call the doctors and specialist
I'm sure it's lust
But you're low key dangerous
So let's talk about what we must
I wanna bust inside
Slip and slide till I'm tongue tied
And my tongues tired
My hardness is mummified
A little ride
Full of passion sweat and masculine bravado
Watch my ego
Matching paces as fast or slow you go
I want you something fierce maybe more than I wanted another being
Weak knees and feening
Words like explode
Ghost or beast mode
Give you this work with a cheat code
Can you feel it in Florida
Imagine I tore it up
Sopped and spent
**** lent
No hypothesis no experiment
A little dome
Deaf ears would hear the moan
Minds blown
Neurologist not needed brains gone
*** **** ******* or making love
No imagination or making it up
Short and tuff
Thick in some
Pull you close and whisper can I ***
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 12:09 AM UTC
Inferiority,inferiority and complacency will come ,
Stymie and tremendous shall not be on the way ,
Ten percent of the mind neurologist say we use ,
Ninety locked out of the way and not occupied,
If you really want to flourish think out of the box ,
Press the accelerator up to 180 decrees and go for you life.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
*but i'm a true reflection of a ****** up world, it's hard to push the button repeatedly using only one example... after a while it just becomes a case of eccentricity... but what's scaring you, is that this eccentricity doesn't really speak - no flamboyance to rest and feel comfortable on, like a sofa... well, indeed, an iron maiden, to my gusto.*
as one neurologist said to me,
'if someone says you're
mentally ill, then they are mentally ill.'
or as i say, sometimes you
wouldn't believe what's happening
in england, all that boasting
and jesting concerning the
magna carta: oldest democracy,
free world... a load of decapitated
cockroaches with leeches *******
on the wound - psychiatric
darwinism, you name it, a *******
**** hole of failed multiculturalism,
a bunch of former colonial subjects
assimilated and integrated,
tongues forgotten, mothers of
linguistic d.n.a. strapped to the caterpillars
of tanks, ground into bony shrapnel;
oh yeah, and asian jokes about cabbages -
tell that to the turk making his kebab,
while i tell him... how about adding
sauerkraut instead? because, i mean,
you're using pickled chillies already.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
What is my mother like?
Perhaps she is a bespectacled story weaver
knitting tales that stretch the imagination.
That would explain my itch to write.
What if she is a food critic wielding a pen
dishing out opinions and parrying rebuttals.
That would explain my desire for food.
What if she is a state- of-the-art Neurologist
stretching the frontier of the dream state.
That would explain my desire for sleep.
But what if she isn’t.
What if she sleeps all day, drinks sake all night,
doesn’t miss me, forgets to kiss her husband, doesn’t have a husband
needs her sons help, is throwing away another child.
One of my siblings.
How many sisters do I not know? How many brothers have slipped between the cracks?
My yellow mother
won’t ever know me.
I don’t want to know her.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
We read a poem
Sometimes understanding,
sometimes not.
If not, we think
It must be sick.
Something must be wrong with it.
So we send it to the doctors office.
For a checkup.
To be poked
And prodded.
To make sure everything is right in its head.
But our lack of understanding,
And ability to broaden our minds
Makes us in need
Of a doctor.
Perhaps a neurologist.
Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 7:56 PM UTC
I am alright
is what I say even when I have flashbacks everyday of the intimidating looking paramedic carrying me into the ambulance car as if I’m shattered porcelain.
We’re alright
is what my mom says even when she leaves the house she constantly calls and when we aren’t in the same room she repeats “Kelly? Just making sure you’re alright”.
I am alright
is what I say even when I have to look away when the clock strikes 9:27 am because that’s when everything suddenly went black and then spotted white.
We’re alright
is what my mom says, a single parent paying MRI scans, emergency room bills, antiseizure medication, the neurologist, the neurosurgeon, the epileptic neurosurgeon, without a cent from my father, and her worry lines are piercingly more clear to me.
Does anyone really wanna hear the truth?
I rub my fingers across my head imagining ripping out the millions of neurons lighting paths across my brain. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
I’ve kept my mouth shut because it’s polite but I want to tell everyone who’s pretending to be my friend because they feel sorry for me to **** off because my health is none of their business.
It all catches up to me when I sit in the hallway at Cincinnati Children’s and I watch kids with tubes down their noses and needles in their arms and think to myself:
I can’t be one of them, can I?
This can’t be real, can it?
But I guess I’m alright.
The meds make me feel foggy, like I’m somewhere between awake and asleep.
Where my mind feels like it fell through a trapdoor and into a vacuum.
If it was up to me I wouldn’t leave the house. The only places I feel safe are in the nurses office or in between the 4 walls of a hospital with my mom holding my hand.
That’s what seizures do. Turn an 18 year old girl into a 5 year old, wanting to run in a closet and slam the door so nobody has to see it happen again.
No going down stairs alone, no locking the door when showering, no getting drunk at parties, no driving, no living your life.
So you wonder if I’m alright? If alright means seeing my mom cry for the first time in years, if alright means sleeping 3 hours a night, if alright means having to rely on others because I can’t do anything by myself..
Maybe I’m tired of lying.
Maybe I’m not alright.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
i'll carve this continent into two! by god i'll carve it into two, leaving a monochromatic economic model intact, but i'll carve the continent into two, engraved with the same ethnic concern a jew might associate with the sea of Galilee, as a Slav and Romanian with the Carpathian mountains... by god i'll carve this union into two! after all, no irishman is a swede concerning being neutral in world war ii, and subsequent arrogance.
i don't do sanity sober,
god forbid i'll ever do,
i've got women hitch-hiking
on my back, either telling
me to see a psychiatrist (
but not a neurologist)
or join the anonymous crowd,
when the pleasures of alcohol,
non-violent use of alcohol
is made to feed the leeches
of christianity: well... your god!
wine and blood... what's whiskey then?
kidney essence / liver essence /
intestine juice?!
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
Shake the man's hand
No, not a just a man.
A doctor
A neurologist
Shake the Doctor's hand
He gave you something
He gave you Parkinson's
No, he did not
He gave you what you wanted
He gave you a diagnosis
He is smiling
He does not have Parkinson's
I know this Because
he can smile
He smiles all the time
Not a very big smile
He is hard to read
Not really smiling all the time
Perhaps we are not so different
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
My firstborn child is dear to me
She is the wise one among the girls
She cares a lot about her sisters
Always she is worried and cautious
She loves reading and writes prose
I think she will be a writer and proud
The day she was born I was so happy
I felt the sweet feeling of being a dad
But tomorrow morning my joy come to end
When the pediatrician told me a painful fact
One of her nerves had damaged in her neck
During the time when she was given birth
So it caused that she couldn't move
One of her arms, the right one
I went to a corner and cried in silence
This was the most painful moment in life
I called for God, she is a little girl
Take my arm instead, let her have a healthy one
We went to another specialist, a neurologist
She tested and said nerve is damaged but
There are some pulses that make me hope
But we need to wait for three months
I was at work when she called
My wife was, she was behind the line
She shouted with an excited voice
That our baby girl had just moved her arm
Written: Monday, April 8, 2019, 14:07
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC
Yeah. I am cold and distant at times.
Most often emotionally extinct
Or reserved to the point it appears
Not to exist
The opposite of everything I hold dear
And the simultanious co-location
Those times zen rears its baleful head
I wore the horror mask for four long months
When the neurologist told me
I was depressed
It took the last of my energy to not paint the joker on my face and laugh him into a corner with my hands locked around his twelve plus year degree addled throat that thought he understood
While the life escaped his eyes
Depressed.
Not like it was the first time I thought someone understood my nightmares...
Then abandoned me straight back to the dead slop society we have been programmed to believe in.
These were professionals.
Let us not waste a single minute of our precious money laden time on
Conversation or
Understanding
Pay up. Eat these pills. Get fixed. Be OK.
Have you ever tried NOT being sad?
It's only a feeling.
It will go away.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:32 AM UTC