Poor doctor Cottingham

Mom laughs as she tells me
again how she left me lying
in my crib a few months old
as she ran down to aunt Annie’s
house, using nearest telephone
to call good doctor Cottingham.
Her constipated baby who never
goes without having an enema.
This time no water came out
after mama gave baby the whole
bag, so she gave baby another
whole bag and still nothing came
out. Baby was crying and crying.
Please, Dr Cottingham, what’s
a mother to do?
Can you imagine? Mom asks,
poor Dr Cottingham, I was
always bothering him with
something. This time I ask what
he suggested. Oh, I don’t recall,
I expect he told me you’d go
eventually, and you did.