Friday, 6 February 2015

After this phlebotomy, I am still unshaken

So, the day, it came,
Not to be left so lame,
Seen this many so tame,
Called Uber and got in the frame.
Two things he had to do,
Unsure if to use the loo,
The bloods for the brew,
And to the pharmacy too.
He handed in prescriptions,
Then asked for directions,
Waited for instructions,
A queue ten deep for reflections.
So old were the tools of phlebotomy,
A sheer piercing into his anatomy,
Not a time for bonhomie,
9 vials out of little old me.
Were it possible, I could faint,
The nectar darkened as paint,
In a room so quaint,
I fed a vampire and bathed a saint.
The pharmacy had readied my pills,
And the same Uber saved me from the chills,
Heard a tale of clinical ills,
Hopefully no time to pen some wills.
At home, some rest was taken,
The first time this much was forsaken,
I know I am not mistaken,
I will remain unshaken.

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