An Ageing Physician’s Lament
by Philip D. Welsby (October 2025)
As I look back over my life historical
My memories are of events mostly comical.
–
The life clock ticks away until checkout time,
When, according to some, to the pearly gates all will climb.
Consciousness and existence started for me on 8/11/46
I was at the time of writing just sixty-six.
In the meantime I wonder how many weekends are left
Before of myself I am eternally bereft?
–
Somatic entropy inexorably increases
Revealed, literally mirrored, by facial creases.
Will I leave this world in my sleep?
Or will death to my door less stealthily creep?
–
Sixty-six years ago I did not in any sense exist
And within thirty years, no doubt, I will cease to persist.
Once I wasn’t, then I was, and soon will never be. So don’t weep.
I truly welcome thoughts of dreamless, uninterrupted sleep.
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Sex. Philosophy. And religion.
My God. I used to think. Of nothing else.
Think to thought (sadly past tense) slowly turning.
Old memories of lusts slowly burning.
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Will I develop disorders congenital, acquired, traumatic or idiopathic
None of which could be cured by medicines homeopathic?
That things that were flexible become stiff are imminent fears
That the reverse may also be true causes immanent tears.
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I also have a tendency, it is clear, to high tone deafness
And now I have, albeit reluctantly, to confess,
If a lady were to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,
Sadly it would convey only meanings unclear.
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I have so many faculties to loose
But what will be the first clues?
What will be the first symptom or sign?
That identifies, probably in retrospect, what is possibly malign?
–
As it is I now feel as well as ever
And my brain functions as if it were clever.
Now every morning without a warning is a good morning.
And will spare my loved ones their pain of mourning.
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My children I hope to predecease,
Otherwise my grief would never cease.
So should I now elect to live dangerously?
Skydiving and duelling courageously?
–
Post death? Burial with my remains to rot
Or cremation, when my remains will not?
Eternal life? Thanks. But no thanks. It’s not for me
I would bore myself to death, and would also bore thee.
–
Of my time on earth I thought I could make sense
Now all my last message is “Enjoy my absence.”
–
For my children
Look after my good genes and those of your mother
From my bad genes you can hopefully recover.
Table of Contents
Philip Welsby was a Consultant Physician in Edinburgh, probably one of the last general physicians because he looked after children and adults. He has published widely on medical, political, musical, and humorous aspects of modern life. He is an associate editor of the Postgraduate Medical Journal.
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