Dialysis

a poem by Mohamed Shuaib

Every one talking to each other
Perhaps trying to solve the issue in vain
The sister opens the door and calls
A patient in to the dialysis room.
The technician pricks two thick needles,
And connects the tubes to the filter (dialyser),
And asks the weight, and the sister checks
The blood pressure and the patient
Lies on bed for four hours.
In the first hour the attendees come in
To give the patient edibles to eat
As advised by the technicians-
Blood gets cleaned and gives strength,
And also edibles permitted-
Which are not included in diet, list.

I sometimes eat or sometimes feel uneasy.
Sometimes the blood pressure goes down
As the machine sucks the water from the blood
And immediately saline is been given.
And technician says not to drink more water.
My father comes in and feeds me,
And goes back, finds the same place
Or if occupied by others- O’ it pains me,
Poor pops got to suffer along with me.
I feel guilty, but not my fault- blame I
My fate or the maker of it.
He also gave me a new RX and took it back.
I see the buyer riding with a girl friend sitting back.
Every one is tired, from where to get money, I’m gonna
Survive until I have or if govt. provides subsidy.