Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Chinatown



image from Zhang-Zongjing.com


Chinatown

“Medicine is a science of uncertainty and an art
of probability.”--Willam Osler

Several decades ago,
when my medical problems
began to manifest themselves,
it took a couple of years
to partially diagnose me.

Doggedly I searched for cures & answers.
I went to a rag-tag group of healers,
but theology in several languages
are soul journeys, and I never found
the key to healing.

At one point, I decided to investigate
Eastern Medicine. Through a friend I found
a Chinese doctor working out of his kitchen
on Beacon Hill. He spoke very little English.
He sniffed me a lot, took a long look at my
tongue, skin, and eyes--telling me that I had
liver trouble.

He wrote me a script in Chinese,
and sent me to an address in Chinatown.
It was a shadowy, dimly lit rambling
panorama of tall shelves, with little library
ladders in several places. On the shelves
were huge glass jars of herbs, roots, & bones.
I was given “special tea” and a bottle of little
black pills. I never knew what they were; the 
label was in Chinese. I thought to myself,
“Probably repackaged Carter’s Little Liver Pills”.

The tea seemed to be leaves, grass, and twigs.
It smelled like a dead skunk on a gut wagon. It
made me throw up twice, and gave me a healthy
case of the trots--but I found no solace,
                                              no answers, &
                                              no healing.

Peacock called across
the pond, but only the koi
heard the sad shrill song.
 
Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

13 comments:

said...

I personally think puking and pooping ARE healers, so maybe you should give it another try. Sometimes the body has a lot of toxins and nasty energy it has to get rid of. Don't fight the process.

I love your writing. You could describe almost anything, in that special way you do, and I would be captivated.

I was especially digging this from "He sniffed me a lot" down.

This is my favorite section:

"It was a shadowy, dimly lit rambling
panorama of tall shelves, with little library
ladders in several places. On the shelves
were huge glass jars of herbs, roots, & bones."

Frank Hubeny said...

I like this description: "theology in several languages
are soul journeys"

jo said...

This is wonderful! You tell an intriguing story about healing, or I should say you tell an intriguing story of not healing.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

We live in hope of a cure of our ills Glenn.
Is medicine an art or a science - who knows... a lot down to pure luck (maybe)...
Anna :o]

Dwight L. Roth said...

I love all of this Glen! The quote at the beginning, your journey for healing, and the beautiful haiku at the end!! Well done!!~
dwight

Cedarwind said...

The search for healing can be long and arduous. I find your haiku intriguing.

Kim M. Russell said...

I don't think medicine is an exact science and some think it's an art. When I first started having problems, I was living in Germany and a friend suggested I tried a homeopath she trusted implicitly. He, in turn, suggested acupuncture and it seemed to work. Sadly, when I moved to Ireland and then to the UK, I was unable to find anyone who practised acupuncture. These days I'm back on the potions and pills.
Enough about me! I love the way you describe the dingy premises in Chinatown.

Paul John Dear said...

Graphic description of the ills and the potential cures available. Who knows how the process really works and how much of it is perhaps down to our self. Great to have you back writing Glenn. On a side note there is a link in my audio poem to the text ;)

Mary Hood said...

Wow, brave to take that tea! Chinatown? Boston? I used to work there. Never saw such a shop though. Great restaurants!

Mish said...

Always a pleasure to read your work and I appreciate the share of your own personal journey. I don't know anything about Chinese medicine for humans, but my dog was given little black pills by a vet who studied extensively in Chinese medicine for veterinary practice. Uh...oh...

purplepeninportland.com said...

Love your description of the Chinatown shop, with its little bottles of who knows what. Different remedies work for different people. What an experience!

Sabio Lantz said...

I really enjoyed this! Deep wisdom in the lack of wisdom and idealistic searching. The Haiku was a superb end to your HaiBun.

Frank J. Tassone said...

An evocative account of your journey! Love how you use freeverse as the "prose" in your haibun! :)