Heart risk 1; Sore puku 0

Kyle Eggleton

I’m a doctor who has been writing poetry for about a year. My poetry writing was born out of a need to more deeply understand the world. Sometimes this need to understand the world arises from a frustration, like a dry seed head lodged in a tramping sock that rubs and chaffs and spoils an otherwise leisurely walk. Sometimes my need to understand stems from my lack of inner comprehension. By exploring the dusty and cobweb filled recesses of my inner self I often uncover a truth about myself and where I fit in the world.

The colours, smells, sounds and emotions invoked by poetry creates what my poet mother calls ‘word pictures’. My work as a general practitioner is full of these word pictures – like the silvery trails left on a father’s face as he talks of the suicide of his child; the cloying, pungent aroma of poverty; the dry hacking paroxysms wracking the frail body of a man without hope.

In my poem “Heart risk 1 v Sore puku 0” I wanted to capture the tension between the demands of health funders, who concentrate on specific health targets, and the needs of patients who present to my free clinic. I have a real concern that taking a target-based approach can lead to unintended consequences. The poem portrays this unintended consequence as a disconnection between patient and doctor, and a resultant loss of trust.

Heart risk 1 v Sore puku 0

Everyone over 20% heart risk needs pills,
is what the experts told me.
A little heart shaped one to thin out your blood,
a little white one to drop your pressure,
and a little oval one to clean out your tubes
is what I told my patient.
… But I only have a sore puku,
is what my patient told me.

You are doing a good job by talking about pills,
is what the experts told me.
Your heart might explode so keep taking the pills,
is what I told my patient.
… But the little heart one makes me bruise
and the little white one makes me dizzy
and the little oval one makes me ache
is what my patient told me.

Don’t forget to check for diabetes, ask about smoking and offer a flu jab,
is what the experts told me.
Sugar is eating your veins
and smoke is blocking them up
and the flu might kill you is what I told my patient.
… But I really came in about my sore puku,
is what my patient told me.

Your numbers aren’t great you need to do more smears,
is what the experts told me.
I know that you are a man but have you considered a smear?
Is what I told my patient.
… I don’t think I want to see you again,
you haven’t asked about my sore puku,
is what my patient told me.

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Dr Kyle Eggleton is a Medical Officer at Ki A Ora Ngātiwai.

To read more poetry by healthcare providers and patients, click on Poetry in the Corpus category bar.