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The Goddess Speaks By Frances H. Kakugawa |
I rage against the
dying of the lightIt is amazing how much can go on during a 10-minute appointment in a doctor's office without the use of a stethoscope. The young doctor -- and why are they looking so young these days? -- looked at my birth date before asking me why I was there.
"Oh," she said, "you don't look your age."
After I told her the details of all the pain I was experiencing, she said, "Seems like you still have a few good years left, so I'll give you this prescription."
A prescription without even touching her stethoscope to my heart? A prescription without even knowing the cause of my pain? Do young doctors know magic?
To my, "What will this prescription do?" she responded, "It'll stop your brain from sending pain to your body."
"No," I said, "I can stand this pain. I need to know the cause of this pain before getting a prescription."
She insisted on the prescription, so I took it and left it in the trash can on my way out. And besides, my 10-minute office visit was up.
Aside from feeling angry and insulted (I guess medical school doesn't teach you that calling a woman old is worse than SARS), I felt very sad that these young doctors see the elderly as people who don't deserve medical diagnosis.
I didn't have the time nor interest to tell her I plan to have more than a few good years. I am still promoting a recently published book called "Mosaic Moon" that speaks of honoring our sick and our elderly with respect, love, compassion and dignity, and of the incredible life lessons we continue to learn from each of them. No, I didn't tell her I was having two more books out by summer's end. She didn't hear me when I told her I had pain; why would she hear me now?
To that doctor and to all health-care providers who see the elderly as having lived out their lives after age 55 and who believe that age determines human productivity and value, here's a poem for you. This is my way of sticking my tongue out at you. And yes, Dylan Thomas, I am raging against the dying of the light.
When I Am 88
I will have a love affair
That will leave me
Trembling
On a windless day.I will drown in Puccini,
Mozart, Verdi ...
Tidal waves roaring
Inside of me.I will feel the brush strokes
Of Van Gogh,
Clawing, bleeding
My inner flesh.I will be Shakespeare
Vibrant, on stage,
Rivers rushing, splashing
Over moss and stone.I will become soft,
Sensuous, wet
Against your skin,
Silk against steel.When I am 88
I will still be woman,
W-O-M-A-N.
Yes!
Frances H. Kakugawa is author of "Mosaic Moon, Caregiving Through Poetry." Her soon-to-be published books are "Teacher, You Look Like a Horse," "Lessons from the Classroom" and a children's story called "Wordsworth, the Poet," from Watermark Publishing.
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