Just thought I'd share a poem I wrote whilst on the ward recovering from my transplant surgery. It is based on experience... I do hope you enjoy...
There's a war going on between doctors and nurses
And you're stuck in the middle avoiding their curses
It's about wearing ted socks and whether to put them
On legs that are fat with water and swollen
The doctors say 'wear them! Or you'll get a thrombosis'
The nurses shake heads at the doctors neurosis
'His legs are still swollen both pitted oedema'd
Get them off him right now! You doctors are just mad!'
All day long this goes on without a respite
As you listen on ward to this terrible fight
The doctors go round and the nurses they follow
'Put them on!' 'Take them off!' Are the cries that still echo
One day doctors will realise they are losing this fight
Over ted socks on legs that are swollen and tight
And they know in the end that the nurses will win
And this war will be over there'll be peace once again.....