Catrin Jones
In the midst of OSCE* season,
(and perhaps that was the reason)
I slept to a dream of DKA**,
Envisioning my heroic slay,
Or the cool management of it anyway.
I roamed the ward with a light step,
Whilst groaning, dosed-up patients slept,
Alone I skipped between blue sheets,
Unconscious of their poppied sleep.
Then as I turned about my bed,
I heard a voice cry out ‘My head!’
And there upon the moss strewn ceiling,
Crawled a patient with unsteady breathing.
‘What on earth! Who is this,
That interrupts my dream of bliss?’
‘’Tis I!’ The Diabetic cried,
His sweet smelling breath filled my mind,
It seduced me, and so resolving his distress,
Quickly became my evening’s quest.
‘I could drink and drink and drink a lake!’
The poor man cried with a slight shake,
Therein his cry of thirst took root,
And off I skipped, his thirst to boot!
On my return, quite suddenly,
An outstretched arm arrested me,
This arm belonged to a Consultant-Jinn,
Who slithered out from within
A lamp and said: ‘What on earth! Who is this,
That interrupts my dream of bliss?!’
A little nervous, I puffed my chest,
And struck out to defend my quest,
‘I’ve just returned sir, from the shops,
To buy this man a bottle of pop.’
At this, the consultant shook his head,
And steadied himself against the bed,
He shouted, furrowing his brow,
‘No no no! You stupid cow!
You think yourself a renegade,
In offering him this Lucozade?!
Whilst I’ve been in my lamp snoring,
His ketone levels have been soaring!’
I fell to my knees and begged him ‘Please,
Sir tell me how to manage diabetes!’
The dream world tilted and was fast fading,
My patient lover, deteriorating,
But with a final flurry, the Consultant-Jinn
Cried ‘Insulin! Insulin! Insulin!’
*Objective structured clinical examination
** Diabetic Ketoacidosis
