You're flat on the floor looking up at the ceiling

Bewilderment now is the one thing you're feeling

There are noises and voices mid tones of concern

Oh, curses, there's nurses and quickly you learn

They've summoned the Ambos and now we're away

For testing and resting for most of the day

In a hospital bed where attention is great -

What a way to spend Sunday, it must just be fate.

There are gadgets a-plenty attached to your chest

Hooked to a machine, you don't even protest.

They've taken your blood, now there's something more -

That's what you get for lying prone on the floor.

They've asked for a sample you don't want to mention

But it must be done, you give all your attention

To filling the vessel with which you're supplied

But the tragedy is, now that you've complied,

You have knocked it flying, but never despair.

There's just enough left for the techs to prepare

A summary of what's wrong with you.

It turns out there's nothing, we've all been in a stew.

You have thrown a wobbly, now isn't that fine

It seems more than likely you'll reach eighty-nine.