Pulmonary Embolism Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A clot breaks loose and, with it, HELL,
it formed in silence, grew in weeks,
the patient lives and feels quite well
the thrombus, reddish black, it seeks

a place where oxygen abounds
to charge its body, to expand,
it passes through the heart and rounds
the pulmonary passage and.....

gets swept into the lungs at once
where tunnels narrow soon to trap
the thrombus and its little sons
that followed through the slippery gap.

Name change occurs, an embolus,
it paralyses action soon,
and like a nasty octopus
creates a bloodless, dead lagoon.

More thrombi follow, it's the rule,
in time the mother of them all
arrives in absolute self-rule
all blood flow to the lungs will stall.

It plugs the duct, which triggers then
a valiant response to squeeze
and overcome by force of ten
the obstacle, restoring ease.

It's not to be, the plug sits tight
blue lips and cyanotic nails
show signs of this, its final fight
the bastard wins, the heart soon fails.