A message to a friend, or "Your prescription is ready, ma'am"

O, my little friend to the North.
My Canadian princess.
My occasional supply of joy, smiles and general youngfeelingness.
Would that I were there to help relieve your pain of back,
your agony of da feet.
I would soak you in the hot waters of a relaxing, soothing bath,
and loofah your worries and troubles away,
until you melt away in a world of carefree, sensual splendor,
your mind set free, if only for several hours,
of the shackles of Everyday Life.
I would feed you by hand, strawberries dipped in Cool Whip,
or nachos with your homemade guacamole,
whichever you were more in the mood for.
I would then remove you from said bath,
lie you down and tuck you in for a long, peaceful sleep,
and tell whoever calls for you to fuck off.

Would that I were there.

But, unfortunately, I'm not there, so all I can do is wish that you get to feeling better. You know if there's anything I can possibly do, however insignificant, I'm just a phone call away.