Our poetry corner
I'M YOUR DISEASE
I hate medications
I hate your God and your prayers
I hate anyone who has relief from pain
To all that come in contact with me,
I wish you death and
I wish yousuffering.
Allow me to introduce myself: I am the disease of reflex
sympathetic dystrophy.
Cunning, baffling and powerful, that's me.
I have killed millions, and I am pleased.
I love to catch you with the element of suprise.
I love pretending I am in remission and the pain is gone,
only to return and hurt you more.
I love to make you hurt.
I love to make you cry.
Better yet, I love when I make you hurt so bad you can
neither think straight nor cry.
You can't feel anything at all. This is true glory.
And all I wish for you is long-term suffering.
I'm going to be there for you always.
When things were going right in your life, a slight injury,
or operation or small fracure allowed me into your body to
hurt you.
You said you didn't deserve this.
And I was the only one who would disagree with you.
Together we were able to destroy all things good in your
life.
People don't take me seriously. They take strokes seriously.
They take heart attacks seriously.
They even take diabetes and liver disjunction seriously.
Fools that they are.
They don't know that without my help most of these would not
be made
possible.
I am such a hated disease.
More than you hate me; I hate all of you who have found a
way to control me.
Your Gods, your prayers, your Drs., all weaken me.
And I can't function in the manner I am accustomed to.
Now I must lie here quietly.
You don't see me, but I am growing, bigger than ever.
But I am here...and until we meet again,
If we meet again...
I wish you death and suffering.
Written by Ducky, 2000
MY LIFE BELONGS TO ME........NOT RSD
Just a man, an officer at work, no way to ever see
What that fateful day, had in store for me.
In just one moment, as my arm struck the floor,
My life was changed forever, of that I am sure.
The Doctors have been stumped, they know not what to say,
They've told me repeatedly, they can't make it go away.
So now I spend each day, the same way as each night
In pain from sunrise, and way on past the moonlight.
Surgeries, procedures, and attempts galore
Yet it seemed they were never ever sure
Some Doctors said this, yes others said maybe not
No one seemed to know exactly what I got.
After twenty five months, I decided for myself
That no longer would I let my life be put up on a shelf
So I told my Doctors and therapists exactly what I'd seen for me
I told them come hell or high water, I would not sit by idly
Although each day I feel the pain, even before I awake
Even before the spasms and my hands begin to shake
It's painfully obvious of the muscle and strength that has passed
And clear as hell the pain is here to last
But finally I have set a goal, determined to succeed
To work hard and do whatever it is that I need
Each morning that I awake I promise to tell my RSD
To move on over, 'cause my life now belongs to me
Dedicated to all those affected by RSD
Andrew Volchko
11-11-2002
Freezing fire burns inside,
My gut feelings say step aside,
The Beast arises to take control,
my limbs, my skin, my temperature.
The Beast is fierce, It's fire and ice,
together, wherever, it strikes like knives.
Numbing, aching, constant nag,
It creeps upon you like an ugly hag
that beats you down for your last breath
to take from you whatever's left.
The Beast is fierce, It's fire and ice, together,
wherever, it strikes like knives.
No sleep, no rest, just constant pain,
until the sun comes up again.
Then the day will start anew.
with the freezing fire inside of you.
Lisa D
cookforu@comcast.net
July 2003
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