Refrain
(I go on singing)
My, my rheumatology guy
Running clinic by the minute while the time’s flying by
The market’s low and my stocks running dry, I’ll be
Working ‘til the day that I die, working ‘til the day that I die…
Verse 5
Now I start my spots at eight
By 8:15, I’m running late
As I wait for X-ray techs
to come
It doesn’t matter, for it’s known
I’ll get behind all on my own
I don’t need help to have it go this way
The patients want to talk about
The joint pains that have put them out
I’ll make a witty quick pun, and move on to the next one
My energy they should not drain
So I’ll give drugs to ease the pain
Or chemicals to numb the brain—a private practice guy
Refrain
(‘Cuz I’m singing)
My, my rheumatology guy
Running clinic by the minute while the time’s flying by
The market’s low and my stocks running dry, I’ll be
Working ‘til the day that I die, working ‘til the day that I die…
Verse 6
I still trudge on with all my might
Like Cervantes’ errant knight
Against the mill of managed care.
As I believe I’m doing right,
To ease the limbs that ache all night
And aid the joints that won’t move in the day
But I think I should earn a keep
And benefits I ought to reap
There is no shame in earning a living you’re deserving
If making money is the sin
I’ll face the facts—I’ll never win
I’ll guess I’ll hawk “the vitamin”—a private practice guy
Refrain
(I’ll still be singing-)
My, my rheumatology guy
Running clinic by the minute while the time’s flying by
The market’s low and my stocks running dry, I’ll be
Working ‘til the day that I die.
Dr. DeMarco is Clinical Associate Professor of Medicine at Georgetown University School of Medicine and a partner at Arthritis and Rheumatism Associates, both in Washington, D.C.
