In shadows of the sterile light,
A slender wand of healing might,
With camera eye and glow so bright,
Enters realms where sight takes flight.
Cystoscopy, a journey made,
Through winding paths of inner glade,
To bladder's hollow, secrets laid,
In camera's gaze, a world displayed.
With gentle touch and careful hand,
A doctor's skill, so deftly planned,
Seeks answers to a health demand,
In urethral depths, a journey grand.
Diagnostic, seeking clues unseen,
From hematuria's crimson sheen,
Or infections frequent in their keen,
CT scans' enigmas intervene.
Therapeutic, a healer's art,
To clear the stones that life imparts,
Or biopsy where anomalies start,
To mend the bladder's wounded heart.
In twilight dreams of fleeting grace,
Anesthesia soothes, a soft embrace,
As visions blur, yet minds embrace,
The healing hands that leave no trace.
And as the procedure finds its end,
The patient wakes, the mind to mend,
With temporary discomfort penned,
In moments swift, all soon to blend.
Cystoscopy, a window's view,
To inner worlds both old and new,
A testament to care pursued,
In realms unseen, but hearts imbued.
