Poetry Of A Borderline

why

In a hospital room, all bleak and white,
Doctors gather, a curious sight,
Scratching their heads, looking perplexed,
Trying to figure out what the heck.

They confer in whispers, charts in hand,
Scrutinizing symptoms, trying to understand,
"Why the fever? What's with the rash?"
Their puzzled expressions clash.

One says, "Could it be a case of the flu?"
Another chimes in, "Maybe a bug or two?"
The third one mutters, "Perhaps it's food poisoning?"
While the fourth suggests, "Alien probing?"

They order tests, from A to Z,
Bloodwork, scans, and an MRI spree,
Searching for clues, unraveling the mystery,
In this medical comedy of history.

But as they ponder and debate,
The patient in bed can hardly wait,
For the diagnosis, the grand reveal,
To end this medical ordeal.

In the end, they scratch their heads,
Shrugging shoulders, shaking meds,
"We may never know," they finally concede,
As the patient sneezes, "Just what I need!"

So here's to doctors, with their stethoscopes,
Navigating symptoms, unraveling hopes,
In the realm of medicine, a comedic mix,
Trying to solve the puzzle, with a funny twist!