If bodies of their own heal
I
Two scores of ripe years ere, remember I,
At shower, shaving mirror, shaping hair,
Bending elbow when turns annoying nigh,
I wonder when, how my hurt hushed in there
Unknown to me, as seasons oft set in
Early or late, till one day forced are we
To tune into the change though not keen;
More than the dull pain, hurt irritates me.
The medic I consult, cool as was I,
But more sure, call it a tennis elbow,
Me in protest, not having played the game,
Laugh it off a little respectfully,
The doc unmoved as e'er, letting me know:
Oh, just the same, it is no more than name.
II
Prescribes he a pain pacifying drug,
Not kind to drugging messengers of pain,
Being a believer in roots, I shrug,
The pain, not being un-seasonal rain,
Persists gaining a slow intensity,
The devilish doc feels vindicated,
Looking kind, yet stern-eyed, he nods at me;
Oh, counsel my own leaves me defeated!
O'er-ruled, a rebel on knees, and elbowed,
Bowed to submission, loosening left sleeve,
I look as if explanation was owed,
He looks up a stern verdict to give:
There's no escape, man reaps whatso is sowed,
Whatso the doc decides you shall receive.
III
Nursing help called in, I'm led like a cow
To in-house slaughter house, or so I thought,
The wise me cursing the rebellious me now,
I follow in worse apprehensions caught,
O for ultra thermal waves— half an hour;
Feeling relieved thence: it could have been worse,
But rather than relieving pain, if e'er,
The mute machine taxes my time and purse.
The pain persisting still, it was my time
To look quizzical at the nurse, and vexed,
But docs have reasons if or not they rhyme,
‘I must take a good look within'; an X-
Ray ordered, my disorder looked to me like crime,
I was worried, being treated by cracks.
IV
‘No sign of malign growth', the doc declared
Swanning into the cubic I wait in,
No uncertain hints that he favoured, cared,
That he was kind, considerate within,
His stern exterior notwithstanding;
‘However', his looks darkening somewhat,
‘You'll see on left a soft growth in a ring,
‘I've reason enough to suspect a lot'.
I see not else but my upper-arm bone,
Humerus as is called, but I'd like to
Say: funny, the fun having too far gone;
But felt, silence is oft no mean virtue
To one on a receiving stick unknown,
And looked at him to hearken wise words due.
V
‘We'll need further tests of course to be sure,
‘But what we see seems serious I feel',
I knew, grin or growl, I aught endure,
But was unsure which the greater evil
Was: ailment or treatment of my elbow!
A picture of an endless dark tunnel
Flashes in mind; it looks dark, no less dull,
Oblivious of pain, something churns in my maw.
A large dose of antibiotics to start with,
The elbow under his eagle-sharp eyes,
Says he tinkering with my bone like a blacksmith.
The swelling, now enlarged still more, there lies
With unknown liquid, as if a close kith,
And treatment flounders on guess and surmise.
VI
‘We'll aspirate the liquid', he thence said,
‘If liquid goes, I hope the swelling too';
Skin dulled he worked, a large needle in aid,
And felt as if Everest was dwarfed a new.
In a few days the liquid returns to the base,
Returns the swelling too as it ere was,
On top, no respite from hospital chase,
I wonder if my karmas have outweighed the cause.
All through, pain was a minor irritant,
And I lived normal life as did before,
If only I had avoided it all.
Despite the doctors and drugs, the tenant
Of my elbow stayed put, cosy indoor—
Sure, her comfortable, and cyst-made wall!
VII
The doctor looking graver than e'er ere,
His confidence still deserting ne'er once,
Swirls his chair round, through large window to stare,
As if to get inspired by Providence;
More dumb than mute, I curse my accursed fate.
‘I'm very happy it is your left hand',
He declares; my mouth wide op— ajar gate,
‘We can amputate it if we can't mend'!
‘The treatment, though irritating and long,
‘T.B. these days can be easily cured,
‘Soft tissue or bone; cancer I hope not it is'.
His tone easy, that of a movie song,
He consoles me; and sure I was assured,
There comes cost estimate with studied ease.
VIII
Not getting his wisdom home, I ask him:
‘Please, let me know it all, doctor to patient',
And plead like guilty man, now penitent.
It proved a nightmare, what ere was a funny dream.
‘I suspect a grave local infection,
‘A cyst has enveloped it like a fort,
‘Look at the Nature's marvellous action—
‘A compromise settlement out-of-court'!
Cutting short, visiting the pain again,
A surgery sequestered all the cyst and roots,
The biopsy test still gave him no clue.
Not all in vain of course, gone was the pain,
But left I was to reap the bitter fruits—
A safeguard anti-Cox treatment still due!
I wonder, knowledge should help or hinder,
Or just burn bright like useless dry tinder.
IX
I should much feel, he that treated me knew
The mystery that human body is,
That it takes two hundred muscles, not few,
To take but one baby step with such ease;
The length of body's blood vessels' so huge,
Two trips around the earth can well be laid;
That, cells die in a million deluge
Each minute, while more patriots are made.
Yet, we know much less of the universe
That lies in each body than outer space,
And of an ailing body still much worse;
Man's ignorance has just not kept pace.
Socrates knew: he ‘lone doth truly know
That knows: lo, knowledge known is still too low.
If better ‘tis to let sleeping dogs lie,
Should we not let bodies heal—of drugs dry?
_________________________________________ ____________
This is a sequence of nine sonnets constituting one single
poem. But the last line of the preceding sonnet is not the first
line of the next sonnet; nor is the first line of the first sonnet,
the last line of the last sonnet; as is often the case. The first
seven sonnets are composed of an octave each, followed by a
pair of two terza rima, that can be viewed as a sestet. The last
two sonnets (the eighth and the ninth) have an extra couplet
concluding the underlying feelings.
_____________________________________________ ________________
- Sonnets | 03.11.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
Added by Poetry Lover
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