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Written by Request For Elton

You all know the Colonel called Firstborn*,
But you don't know him well as I do;
Since being my patient,
With his recurrent cancer,
About him all queries I'll answer.

He's an eighty-one year old "specimen",
Not pickled, but preserved well from Washington;
He came to Hawaii,
With a lump in his right thigh,
Concerned that it might be the end of him.

Testing was needed to determine extent,
Computerized axial tomography;
Magnetic (resonance) imaging,
Blood tests and bone scanning,
Done so that he might be content.

Still he pondered his fate,
What "would it hurt?" if he ate;
Vitamins and herbs,
Recomended by those,
Who were "knowing", having words without spate.

He asked that we spare the "contractaes",
(You know that he's a roller/ice skater);
Tests showed recurrence,
To be under the dermis,
And adherent to the 'neath lying fasciaes.

An elliptical cut formed 'round the tumor,
To accomplish the planned "wide resection",
The margins were "clear",
The wound edges near,
All without taking but a bit of the "tensor".

A brace to control flexion needed,
Lest wound edges found receeded;
Amazed at the progress,
This "specimen" showed us,
His age the recovery not heeded.

Radiation therapy to the 'zona',
We knew Elt would get his diploma;
Just 'cause he's past eighty,
Does not mean his fate /(y/),
He beat the 'Histiocytoma'.

Now when I see him on Waikiki,
With his poses, pads, and his skate skis;
My lesson I've learned:
My fee not earned,
'Till I "know well" those whom I "ease".
(by the cutter)

Of all the fine surgeons at the 'Center',
There's none any better than my 'mentor';
I bet my sweet life,
He saved me with his knife,
So--here's cheers for my friend, the Mentor.
(by the cuttee)
*name changed for privacy

Dedicated to my loving wife, Pam.