H&P—————————————

A poem by Marc Buettler, former Medical Clinic Volunteer

How old are you?

65.

Any medical history?

No, sir.

Anything new?

No.

Any allergies?

How about surgeries?

Not that I know of.

No.

What do you do?

I’m a retired vet,

but since I moved back home again

I work in construction, and

the odd job or two.

And where do you live?

Well doc, d’ya know that bridge?

The one over by River Ridge?

Yes.

Well.

He looks away.

Do you smoke at all?

Drink alcohol?

Any drugs?

I smoke, but I’d like to quit

and each night I drink a fifth,

usually vodka –

on the streets

it’s better than any sheets –

and yes, sir, from time to time

I take a hit.

Of what?

Mostly heroin, sometimes meth.

Depends on what I can get.

Have you ever been tested

for HepC?

How about HIV?

Yessir, I have HepC,

but you see

the meds, I can’t pay,

I don’t have insurance

that’s why I’m here today.

Do you have any family?

Yes, two kids. But we lost touch.

These days, well

I’m not around people much.

I’m sorry.

I reach over and take his hand.

His lips tremble.

He starts to stand.

I don’t mean to cry

He says as he squeezes shut his eyes.

It’s just been a while since

some-

since someone’s-

it’s just been awhile

y’know?

My speech is thick

but I manage to smile.

It was good to meet you

I swallow and say.

We’ll see you back next Thursday.

He moves for the door,

the one he came in

just 30 minutes before

with his clothes too big, or

himself too thin.

I watch him:

How old are you?

65.

Same as my dad, who

he could almost be,

if not for a different H&P.

Marc Beuttler is a third-year medical student at LSU who plans to pursue a residency in Internal Medicine. His poem “H&P” will appear in the summer 2017 issue of The Pharos.