Was I on the Saucer Going to Mars?

(I wrote this for my sister after she had what we now know
to be a serious brain injury. The medical profession dealt
with it as if she had a psychiatric problem and, as you can
imagine, prescribed accordingly. We fought it every step of
the way and finally they conceded she did, in fact, have a
brain injury. It was an uphill battle for her but after writing
it we were over the moon to see her sense of humour - not
unlike mine - had survived her ordeal.)

One day, in my most unusual life, the strangest thing occurred.
I thought I had my life mapped out, and things suddenly were deferred!
Inside a flying saucer, on a galactic trip to Mars,
The door was opened up, and I fell out amongst the stars!

Well, goodness, gracious me! Now I've really lost the plot,
I didn't have an earthly clue whether I'd make it to Mars or not!
The saucer didn't return, and left me stranded and confused,
My brain and my whole system, were about to be diffused!

Floating round and about, while attempting to gather my wits,
Baffled and bewildered, I struggled to find what fits.
"What am I doing here?" My mind just had to ask,
To come up with a plausible answer, was more than a menial task!

I'm sure it was the doctor, flying the saucer to Mars,
The practice nurse who opened the door and pushed me out to the stars!
"How did I come to be there, on the saucer going to Mars"?
Maybe it was the vampire, who took my blood in little jars!

At the moment my wisest course, is to forget the saucer to Mars,
Or I could finish up pickled, in one of THOSE little jars!
I think I'll concentrate, on coming back to earth,
Where I'll look back on the whole event, and roll around with mirth!

"What are we paying the doctors for"? They only dish out pills,
They think they have the panacea, for all life's many ills!
A "specialist", they send you to, for clues they haven't got,
They struggle and grope for answers. More often they're wrong than not!

Bewildered, and completely lost, they send me to A.C.C.,
These "Saviours of the Human Race" who don't know their A. B. C.!
Taught to intimidate, and reduce you to a dithering mess,
The object of the exercise, is to pay you nothing, no less!

Tail between your legs, you search among the cars,
Wondering if the saucer was there. The one that went to Mars!
By now they will probably know, I'm back on the earth again,
My body and my mind, totally wracked with pain.

As the physical walks around, and the "other" is "out to lunch",
I plot and speculate, working it out, to follow a hunch!
Into the lab I go. More blood in the little jars . . . . . . . . .
Oh no! I'm out of here, they've started up the motor, on

THE SAUCER GOING TO MARS!