Junkies,Doctor,Drug

Junkie:

Doctor Doctor, fix me quick 
I’m hanging out and feeling sick
I need a remedy, you know the sort 
The kind you drink, or shoot or snort.

Doctor:

Patient, patient, patient please 
Could you please get on your knees
 Pretend I’m God, let me hear your please
 I’ll fix you up if you pay the fees.

Junkie:

Doctor, doctor, on the phone 
You promised to put me on the ‘done 
Give it to me, I’ll get a loan
The dealers have stripped me to the bone.

Doctor:

Patient, patient, your not fallow
Those bones of yours, they still have marrow
Please don’t think that I am shallow
But I need money to fill my barrow

Junkie:

Doctor, doctor, I’m your man
Just give me the ‘done, I’ll piss in your pan
I’ll pay you for tests you never ran
I’ll praise the privatisation plan

Doctor:

Patient, patient, your so wise
Here’s your ‘done, I sympathise
I’m paid to hear your pathetic cries
I’m the doc, with the methadone franchise

(Wally, User’s News, 1998 (28):27).

The above poem serves to illustrate the dysfunctional relationship between doctor and junkie, as written by a heroin addict attempting to withdraw from heroin. It is a common cry for sympathetic help from the heroin users of Australia, who are struggling to cope with the misery in their lives, brought about by their addiction.