bath time poetic

My arms are broken, and I didn't feel a thing.
The doctor on duty calls out,
"I'm out of pig-water. I need dinosaur-water to fix this.
Can you hand me that green dinosaur?"

They assist each other,
passing tools through the bubbles;
Squirters and sponges, the yellow plastic teacup.
I help too, although injured,
refilling animal squirters as needeed.

Warm water washes over my injury.
My doctors lavish gentle caresses on my arms.
They are serious about my treatment plan.
Regarding my arms with intense scrutiny
until they can declare that I'm whole.

The younger doctor's left hand gently squeezes my forearm.
At the same time, in the same rhythym,
her right nand squeezes water from a dinosaur.

The older doctor is bent over my arm,
telling me that everything will be all right.
My arms won't hurt for long. They are near a cure.
She brushes sponge up and down my arm.

Fortunately, I'm completely recovered with
Plenty of time to get the towels
and pajamas ready.
Soon I'll read the doctors a bedtime story
and tuck them in.