HYPOCHONDRIASIS

By the Urban Poet

He’s got a cough, he’s got a cold

He is convinced he’s growing old 

futures not looking very great,

and as coughs go, it may be too late

Oh and he may have lost a bit of weight?

 

The pain is bad, it’s jabbing hard

His family say he’s being mard 

But he’s convinced it’s something sinister

And they will need to call a Minister

They seem to move around and around

 

The excruciating pains, the gurgling sounds

Surely this time he’s near to death

It won’t be long before his last breath?

Down to the Doctors Surgery he goes

Last time it was about his nose

He thought he had a terminal lump

It turned out though just to be a clump...

Of hard snot, yes quite a lot!

 

Unconvinced, a second opinion

Not from a quack or an unknown minion

But a professor of medicine, the highest in his field

to be examined and let him have a feel,

of this area of grave concern

to see what the medic could discern.

After a pause, a sharp intake of breath,

no mention of being close to death

He looked at his patient and confirmed nothing serious

not even arthritis,

but yes you’ve guessed it, Hypochondriasis

 

Ah well, at least he could still look forward

to a trip to see a psychologist!

From the book ‘Rhymes and Reasons’

By ‘Rick Varden