THE RAFT AY THE MEDUSA

In the kitchen, staring doon it the countertop intae frowning oblivion. Right ah dinnae get it. Ah'm confused. Yin pill makes ye larger, yin makes yer cholesterol level grow small. Ator...whit? Rami...how? Thir's yin missing fae the swallaying gallery...ah hink. Loast track in aw this medical madness. Plastic container SUN MON TUE WED THU FRI SAT, unhappy daze, cosy drug-stuffed coffins marking oot seasons in Hell n healthcare. Aw these tests, swallay this, shave yir chist wi nae shaving foam n a cheap safety razor, wear this fir a few days n spout robot wires, gie blood, dinnae try tae pronounce the pill names, thir no meant fir the likes ay you tae orally command. We couldnae protect oor monopoly that wey. So thir's yin pill missing, or it least ah hink it is, nae idea which, memory foggy is Loch Lomond oan an unseasonal perfect showstopper newborn morn, confusion is tae whit the script is. Wis ah meant tae stop taking this yin while taking anither, is that whit the doactor wis talking aboot, glibly running her educatit forked tongue oor causes n effects, genetic defects, energy reservoirs, medication co-morbidities, sanity deficiencies, reception room humiliations, yin thrill pill counteracts the ither, yin n yang, pharmaceutical self-cancellation, the fighting ay branded-name companies in the eternally profitable public square. Nature versus nurture versus could-be cerebral spurts n ruptures, innuendos inadequacies foreign bodies, flickering dullthud heartbeats, suspect tongueroll wordslips n trips n spills. N ah look aw roond me it the heidshaker existential wreckage, afloat oan some sortay Scottish NHS Medusa raft ay compromised form upon the lukewarm amniotic gory sea, bubbling holes here n there, missed appointments, disappointments, missed symptoms, ivir-mair-visible private insurance sharks in the water aw roond, scenting unsucked blood n privatisation by the back door n rich pickings fae the poor, the tired, the weak, the undemanding, the uncomprehending, the sneering, the tired, the fried, the nivir-tried, the placebo-lobotomised. N the surgeon's unsteady scalpel-clutching hand slips in surgery n spills the guts ay the patient's wallet oot oantae the flair, a low chilling winter caustic breeze freezing the bank accoonts ay aw n sundry. Thir is nae such hing is health assurance. Jist a few quid a month whit difference kin it make? Well awright, mibbe some cannae afford it, n even ma ain prescriptions wid be a bankrupter, a hertbrekker, a budgetwrecker. N the burned-oot corpses ay the exploitit Scottish working class bobbing in the water aside us aw day n night long, nae idea how ah goat here, nane ay it makes ony sense onymair, feel like ah've been in some kinnay destructive coagulating trance firivir n a day noo. N the financially healthy solvent horizon jist grew further awa in the steadily consuming dark ay really late capitalist night fury, n it's nae yis, need tae go roond n see the doc aboot aw this muddled drug juggling, cannae mind whit goes whaur onymair, which cairpet matches whit curtains, whit pills match whit unexplodit brains, picknmix reactions interactions counteractions, organs groaning in age-slowing imperfect-working-order concerto, dinner-swallayed pill synergies, faltering age levies, autonomic blackoots, a temperament shorn ay knowledge n healthy understanding fit fir nuhhin bit the bucket or a trip tae the knacker's yaird or the GP n whae kin even tell the difference onymair these frantic slow-death-building days?

END

The Raft of the Medusa (Theodore Gericault, 1819)

   
       
       

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