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Sheila Nevins | 08/21/2008 12:00 am

The Tale of Hatie Agora Hypochondriasis-Berger

© iStock

Do you feel each illness is serious?
Are you fearful of a dire diagnosis?
Do you feel you are the subject of ill-fated destiny?
Are you a hypochondriac?

 

 

The Tale of Hatie Agora Hypochondriasis-Berger

An Interactive Poem

For Hatie every pimple was
Rancid boil-ing
Every cough was serious
Incurable pneumonia
Every doctor’s visit was a
Minefield
Every breast lump
Was cancer.

A fact:
If Hatie Agora received a
Negative medical test
She believed the lab was in
Error—
No Question.

Anxiety and fear surrounded her especially assigned
Doom which
Followed Hatie all over her world
As Shadows.
She could not travel much as
A red light made her certain
A car would disobey
And smash her to smithereens
Crossing streets was downright
Fearful
She stayed on one side
Mostly.

For Hatie Agora
A flowerpot
Perched on a ledge
Was certain to seek her out
On an usually calm blue-sky day
A wind would blow
The pot would fall
And Hatie would be rendered
Paraplegic
For the rest of her life
No doubt about it.

From fear of disease
And bad luck
And birth name
Hatie Hypochondriasis-Berger
Felt
She was personally selected for tragedy.

She believed she possessed
A special quality
That set her apart from
The rank and file of
Chance.
She was naturally selected for
Flight
And incontrovertibly pursued by
Fright.

Hatie lived her life
Fleeing, suspicious, and anxious
Elevators were doomed to fall
Airplanes to explode by the
Most unlikely of passengers
Usually her seatmates.
How she hated air
Born.

Hatie Agora Hypochondriasis-Berger
Was named by her parents
Who witnessing her cowering in her
Basinet corner
Signatured her birth certificate to suit her
Infantile performance.
Afraid to even roll over
This infant never stretched to her full
26-inch length

When grown, Hatie
Never assumed her true
Height.
She lived her life
Crouching
From cradle to imminent
Grave imaginings.

Angst ridden to
Sleeping with pills
Waking to sunshine
Yet expecting
Thunder and lightning
Hatie remained struck in a
Path preventing her
Life.

One day it
Came upon her in a revelation.

A vociferous reader
Huddled safely in a corner of her
Single bed—
She read the story of Narcissus
Ahhh
A lesson plan.

Poor Narcissus
Addicted to his reflection
Would drown in the pool of his
Obsession
Chosen for self-love
By self-love
Poor flower was never to bloom but
Lost in water
Over his head.

Hatie hearing his dying cries
Prayed for her salvation from
Self.
This prayer made her
Existential
A goddess of anonymous challenges
From which she could fashion
A new life of probabilities

In a trance-like
Explosion
Falling free
Hatie Agora so fated by
Birth name
Would change her nom de plummet
To reflect who she
Was now — not.

Legally done she became
Alice. Any Alice
To wear a blue gown*
And it fit perfectly.

Hatie left the shroud of Hades
To another who chose to wear
Black. So be it.

As Alice
She accepted the accidental
Digit of her protoplasm
And Chance ruled.
She wore blue as a talisman of the
Magic that transformed her
To Everywoman.
Expecting no special treatment
Leaving the island of Ill-fate
Fleeing a political prisoner
She was
Granted asylum in the land of
Averages.
All bets were off.

Alice became a gambler
Tossing a die to land on
Just another one (1).
"Why me?" she said. "Why not me? Why not them?
Their plane, their elevator, their street crossing
Their flower pot
Or not."

Alice, a.k.a. Hatie
Now saw herself as just another
Magic piece of cosmic dusting
Programmed for now.

Crossing rivers
She held up her hand
Stopping huge ocean liners and
Crossing seas on foot.
And Alice of Alices. Manifold.
Explorer. Adventurer. Alice Anonymous. Became
Just another alicious being in a world of not me.
Anyones.

* The hit song "Alice Blue Gown" premiered in the 1919 Broadway musical "Irene."

Read more about: Health, Poetry, Psychology

33 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment

Lena Tymczyna
Thank - you Sheila for uncovering a part of life! LRegina
By Lena Tymczyna on 08/22/2008 12:23 pm
rocky rocky
Okay, Ms. Sheila Nevins. I’ll take it that what you mean by “interactive” is a conversation in verse. Though I cannot do blank verse (or any kind of verse) as gracefully or coherently as you, I’ve put together an imperfect little ditty that tells of another of Alice’s foiled phobias … There once was a girl in distress. She was battered and beaten, oh yes. Grew up with a fear of too far and too near and then she was cured by her wits. She planned in her room in the dark. She’d set for herself a low mark. Next day she would try to just barely get by. She did and then set a new mark. She’d sit at a place in the midst. She would shake but stayed with the rest to wait out the fear til she could bare to be near and then took a breath and made tracks. Next day she would do the same thing. Until all her fears up’n took wing. She’s still mighty queer but alive and so dear to family and friends who love her beyond her wildest dreams …
By rocky rocky on 08/21/2008 11:51 am
Frannie Em
Rocky Love it. I especially like the image of “planned in her room in the dark. She’d set for her self a low mark……” and then with accomplishment on to a new mark healing her fear.
By Frannie Em on 08/21/2008 12:29 pm
Frannie Em
PS Has anyone heard if Lady Gator is safe from the flooding in Florida?
By Frannie Em on 08/21/2008 12:32 pm
rocky rocky
Thank you, Frannie Em. But won’t you try? It takes only a moment to write each line. And you may be surprised at the words to the wise that flow from your pen.
By rocky rocky on 08/21/2008 3:15 pm
phyllis Doyle Pepe
To Rocky’s Little girl in distress: How pleasant to know Sara Lear, who remembers volumes of stuff! Some folks think her awfully queer, but I find her pleasant enough! And to you, Rocky, ––––WUNDERBAR!!!!!
By phyllis Doyle Pepe on 08/21/2008 12:52 pm
rocky rocky
Danke, P.D.D. Right back atcha.
By rocky rocky on 08/21/2008 3:31 pm
rocky rocky
Sorry, phyllis Doyle Pepe. I meant P.D.P.(Eyes are going …)
By rocky rocky on 08/21/2008 3:56 pm
Lynn Marie
DO YOU KNOW ME? LOL Just kidding. I am a nurse so you do not want to get me started on the health field (a total shambles) I will tell you when you are chronically ill this IS how you feel in a way—especially if you are young…. But me having the “”big one”” on my 50th Birthday and almost meeting my maker changed me—LIFE IS TOO SHORT—oh how short………………..
By Lynn Marie on 08/21/2008 4:19 pm
Linda Clark
My Father-in-law, my Mother-in-law, my since passed away Brother-in-law (homocide), my former Daughter-in-law ……….Damn, I hope it’s not contagious! My adopted motto is one that I learned from my younger brother from when he was in the Marine Corp ………… “Suck it up - move on - if you’re really sick, you’ll find out soon enough!”
By Linda Clark on 08/21/2008 4:42 pm
mary lou s
i thought my father was a hypochondriac, but he died of heart/lung failure at age 75, which is what he sought treatment for. it is because my mother is so healthy that i thought that way. she will be 90 next march.
By mary lou s on 08/22/2008 12:04 am
Maggi D
From watching t.v. ads I would think that the majority of us are hypochondriacs. Do you sneeze when you smell a flower - ask your doctor of this pill. Socially nervous - ask your docor for this pill. Did the outside noise make sleeping impossible last night - ask your doctor for this pill. Is your kid running around like a kid - ask your doctor for this pill. Feel your breast, check your colon, that headache could be a stroke, heartburn could be cancer, gas could be ulcers, earwax could be brain melt down. Lord, lord, lord. Gave up fearing what could be wrong years ago and now concentrate on what makes the body work effctively.
By Maggi D on 08/22/2008 3:27 am
Maggi D
As my wise ol’ momma use to say - if the big ones don’t get ya, the little ones will. Nobody gets out alive.
By Maggi D on 08/22/2008 3:30 am
phyllis Doyle Pepe
Maggi, my favorite is the one for restless leg syndrome where one of the contraindications is unusual sexual proclivity or maybe they use the word “urges”. And it’s all those side effects that are usually spoken of rather hastily but would scare the bejesus out of Satan himself. And having a little devil may care attitude myself, I shun most medications and have to be really hurting to even take an Aleve.
By phyllis Doyle Pepe on 08/22/2008 10:06 am
z z*
Penned with an aptitude for vernacular kismet, Ms. Nevins’ poem faces phobia without fear. Alice f.k.a Hatie Agora is another totally relatable hit for me. Bounds beyond my former worrisome self, I still make conscience efforts to convince myself that the scratch in the back of my throat is NOT Cancer, the bruise on my hip is NOT caused by Deep Vein Thrombosis, my paper cut will NOT result in amputation and that I will NOT contract the plague from strap-hanging in the subway! Maybe “bounds beyond” is a bit generous. Sheila nails neurosis with this poem!
By z z* on 08/22/2008 2:56 pm