What a smashing lot of workers slave like hell in R.T.D. Helping tired and worn out patients and moaning sods like me, We've been pulled about and prodded and occasionally some Have been painted blue and dried off with a warm fan up our bum.
We've been marked up and persuaded to give specimens galore, We've had blood tests by the dozen and the buggers still want more But it's all part of the treatment and thank goodness it's all free, The treatment we get daily from the staff in R.T.D.
Some are slim and some are bonny, some are short and some are tall, Some have warm hands, some have cold hands, but the good Lord made them all, They are punctual on Fridays then they have the flaming cheek To keep everybody waiting the remainder of the week.
They are calm, cool and collected, .. (that's what I've been told to say) I shall miss their cheerful greeting ... "Well how are your bowels today?" I have every day been tempted to reply ... "Great ... How are yours?" ... As in agony I've crawled by their reception on all fours.
Radiographers of all types, but none of them are shy ... If you hang on for a moment 1 will try to tell you why, ... They have class ... that is the answer, so of course we feel secure, And our "privates" don't impress them for they've seen them all before. Though I've had to drop my trousers thirty times now on the trot, And they've marked my yellow card now thirty times (and that's a lot ...) I shall miss the lovely creatures who have gently handled me And the lumbering three He-men who work in R.T.D. Here's a toast to Mega-Voltage and the staff who work like hell For the benefit of moaners like me who feel unwell, May you treat the next 500, like you've always treated me When I've had my sixty Seconds every day in R.T.D. Mr Les Vyce, patient of Leicester Radiotherapy Dept.
Reproduced from a copy given to me by the Palmerston North Hospital Radiotherapy Department