A PATIENT'S VIEW

Of all the jobs that man has made,
There is none more hectic than nurse and aide.

Most days start out with "pills" and "pans",
With some requests; but more demands.

They fill you up with pan and hose,
To drain you out clear to your toes.

They take your "temp" and say to rest,
Then wake you up when your sleeping best.

They rub and powder aching backs,
And change soiled bedding by the stacks.

They hear complaints days upon days,
But seldom hear a word of praise.

About the time all's had their pills,
There comes a rash of bed-pan spills.

They help the patient roll off "gas",
And keep on guard, for some wise guy's "pass".

The gowns they give you sure are slack,
All in-front and no in-back.

They give you pills for what you've got,
Then shoot you on your "you know what".

Patients try to have their way,
Then blame the nurse when they have to stay.

When rooms are full and halls are too,
Some wise guy asks them; what they do.

When they get so tired they nearly drop,
The buzzer never seems to stop.

They come in sizes large and small,
But may I say; God bless them all.

 

                                                             

 

AUTHOR: Margaret Shankland