Friday, May 30, 2014

His Big Scar

As an ER medic in Nam
We kind of did our own thing
Nobody really gave a damn
They let us have our fling

I wore custom tailored pants
And let my hair grow long
Funny what privilege grants
Been wearing a scrub shirt all along

One day I decided to walk into town
Don't remember what I went for
Maybe just to walk around
Didn't know I had a surprise in store

A new MP stopped me in his Jeep
And threw me over the hood
I didn't make a peep
Why he handcuffed me I never understood

Hauled me off to the MP station
And pushed me through the front door
Told the sergeant there I was getting a citation
Because he didn't like the uniform I wore

Sergeant said, "That's Doc Rose.
Why are you bringing him in?
Don't worry about his clothes."
That poor MP couldn't win

Sergeant said, "Take Doc wherever he wants to go
And take off that damn handcuff!"
There is no way that poor MP could know
That he didn't have to get tough

About a week later, that same MP came into the ER
Seems he cut his hand and finger
Was going to be treated by Dr. Hitar
I told him, "Doc I got this one. No need to linger."

I comforted the MP as routine
Told him he would feel no pain
As I drew up some saline
Instead of Novocaine

I said "Let me know if any of this hurts.
I can give you more pain killer."
It's amazing the control he exerts
He was as rigid as a pillar

He toughed it out
While the nursing staff was giggling
Not once did he shout
He wasn't even wiggling

Every once in a while
Someone whipped the sweat off his brow
He even mustered a smile
He got through it somehow

To become friends is what we requested
Saw him often in the ER
I'd joke about getting arrested
He'd whine about his big scar

David Rose - Vietnam Veteran - Combat Medic

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