Sounds like a message that once came by wire,
Delivered by someone In formal attire.
Important wording about something dire,
From the Prime Minister or perhaps even higher?

Maybe it was from the Queen,
Commemorating me for being….

But a hospital gown was my realization,
With doctors and nurses in fraternization.
Cardiac Arrest might mean operation,
They’re eying me up in stern contemplation.

There’s a Cardiac Unit Investigation
Into spurious activities at this station.

I was then shuffled into a cavernous room,
No windows at all in that darkened tomb.
There were various people with masks, I assumed,
To hide their identity, from me I presumed.

With me on a high bed a group of them joined,
To hook me to wires with a camera in groin.
The xray machine checked the route it was going,
To my beating heart, its journey was showing.

A voice whispered softly into my ear,
“You have two blockages,” was what I did hear,
“We’re putting in stents cause we greatly fear,
Your premature death in less than a year.”

Thank you Vancouver General Hospital!

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