Saw Rocky Today - Poem: Diabetes Holds the Power of Life and Death

Had a follow-up appointment with Dr Rachmel Cherner (Rocky, for short, although his family members call him "Dick" - his little sister couldn't pronounce Rachmel).

He'd ordered a bunch of tests for me. Earlier this evening I typed all the results in my "Ruth's Medical File" and tucked them in my Red Wallet. Here's how they read: Doctors (I added Rocky's name), Meds, and Health Events and Lab Tests.

Everything came out fine. My creatinine level remains at .8. That's a measurement of kidney function.

I asked him Qs about insulin. Will it damage my body? Does it cause cancer?

"It's a natural substance," he said, "so it certainly isn't going to harm you." He told me if I accidentally injected too much I might get dizzy and pass out.

What are the most common complications, I asked.

Neuropathy: feet, hands, arms, anywhere on the body. Blindness, in extreme cases.

I asked if he could see my mom. Bernice is always complaining about young Dr Foxhall, who is also my family doctor.

"He never calls me back during the day, though Robert does."

I made an appt. for next week and will drive her over to The Chateau at Regency Towers.


She's not much of a swimmer, but I think I can drag her after me in the water.

Best of all, Rocky told me he read the two Compass mags I gave him.

"You better live a long time," he said. "These are marvelous! And so was your poetry!"

"You mean, you read my poetry?" I asked him.

Here's a poem I just wrote. YOU, Dear Reader, will be the first to read it, at 12:30 a.m.

DIABETES HOLDS THE POWER OF LIFE AND DEATH

In the middle of the night

I awoke

something was wrong

very wrong

my legs propelled me

past my stationery bike

and down the stairs

darkness outside

like the darkness within

Watch me stumble

into the kitchen

switch on a light

that blinded me with

its wah-wah rhythms

Leaning over the

table, I thought

“You’re low!

Your sugar

is so low you’ll

pass out, Scott

will find you in the

morning, blue, stiff

ready for the sarcophagus.

My brain had forgotten

how to think

See me pound my

fist on the table

Save yourself or die!

I screamed, as a

thrill went through me

I saw Death,

seated in the empty chair.

Demon! I cried,

as I found my bag of

whole grain pretzels

at the table’s edge

Crunch! said the bag

I stuck in my hand

a bear at the hive

and came up with all

the honey I needed, and,

shaking, trembling,

and sweating,

saved my life.

This time.