I try to take care of it all on my own,
I pray that this will remain unknown,
They have no idea the level of shame,
When they have to take care all over again.
There are some who make it very clear,
Disgust, I don’t deserve to be here,
What they miss is that I feel the same,
I’m well aware I’m the one to blame.
They bring my meal, I don’t want to eat,
I try to protest then admit defeat,
Extra calories they make me consume,
Sometimes watching, won’t leave the room.
It appears that septicemia set in,
Antibiotics are going to begin,
No time for a drip, straight in the vein,
In a hurry they “tissue” and leave me in pain.
Post surgery needs attentive care,
To ensure the graft stays right there,
Sometimes left in a dressing so wet,
Always the same, they just seem to “forget”
“Ward round” the part I hate the most,
Each morning the Doctors stand in close,
They nurses “brief” on my progress,
Yet truly I feel they couldn’t care less.
Sometimes I persevere with the pain,
It’s too much effort to try to explain,
This pain I feel is not like before,
They wouldn’t understand that less is more.
Each time I pray that I’ll heal fast,
And that this time will be my very last,
I know they’re thinking the very same,
I just wish they could see how I feel such shame.