Message to Patients

The doctor's office now has closed. For good.
If you are feeling really, really sick
(By which we mean your tongue is inches thick
And seems as if it might be made of wood,
The room was spinning round, last time you stood,
Your head feels something like a crumbling brick,
Raising your arm too difficult a trick,
And life seems pointless), press on. Yes, you should.

An electrician may be stopping by
To fix the fuses. While he's standing still,
Smelling the flowers on the windowsill,
Ask for the plumber's number. You can try
The engineer's friends, too. We wouldn't lie.
The doctor won't be here, but someone will.