COPING CONTINUED
Article voiceover
Yesterday was my annual
visit to the gastroenterologist
not the usual
subject for a poem.
(When I googled
poems about gastroenterologists
I found none,)
He’s very very young
and I love him the way I love
my endocrinologist. Real healers
of all kinds make you
feel better when they walk
into the room. The first time
I visited him I asked what he’d
say about himself. He replied that
he had celiac as a child.
Both his parents are psychiatrists
on the Upper West Side.
Why do you think
you have stomach problems
they’d ask me.
Imagine that, he laughed,