The other day, my iPad turned on me
And attacked me;
It jumped from my hand
And left a gash in my leg—
Clearly not a big event
In the greater scheme of life,
But the blood on the floor
Would be torture to any housewife.
The ambulance man was polite to me,
Puzzled why I called.
“No,” he said, “no big deal.
Just treat it nicely; it’ll heal.”
But iPads don’t attack every day—
And this one picked its mark;
My skin is frail, oedema bad.
Ulceration is barely kept at bay.
And as we know too well,
Ulcers are like unwelcome
Family visitors: they stay too long,
Fussy and untidy, never paying their way.
I treated my iPad warily
And took my gash to visit
A nice three-hour visit to the local—
The local emergency room.
The doctors were initially sceptical:
“Is this woman a nutter?”
But eventually, my co-morbidities
Convinced them to thread me a needle.
“Antibiotics? Nah … relax, lady,
Don’t make a fuss!
You don’t need all those extras—
You’re only making work for us!”
It was only the next day—
Off I went again, to visit.
The doctors sighed and muttered,
“This one again—what is it?”
“It’s gone all red, a nice, bright angry red;
It needs help,” I said,
And very reluctantly, they agreed
And wrote out a script at speed.
“Go away,” they said. I went
But was back the next day,
Leg a mess, feverish, spent,
Lying on an ambulance tray.
“Oh dear, oh dear! Deary me!
What have you done to yourself?
Why didn’t you come to us sooner?
Now you’ll have to be our guest.”
It’s nice and quiet today
As I lie in my hospital bed,
A drip in my arm
And a very sore leg.
So be careful, boys and girls,
And be nice to your iPad.
You never know when it’ll turn feral …
And turn on you and attack!