I wanted to share this poem with you all. It was written by Heather Pearson, who has become a dear friend of mine. Her daughter has suffered ME for many years.
INJUSTICE OF ME
It's just in my mind THEY say,
I've invented it all in some strange way.
Pains, high fevers, exhaustion of flu,
was it all in YOUR mind when suffered by you?
For you, one week, flu is over,
For ME it rolled on into weeks, months and years,
Disappearing from life, down a river of tears.
A virus inhabits each cell,
Consuming who's ME and making life hell.
Enduring symptoms, cruel, intense,
given no answers that make any sense.
Some cannot swallow,
fed by tubes – indescribable pain, no interludes.
23 years lived with guilt and despair,
since first I sat in the \"Expert's\" chair.
\"School Phobic,\" Psychiatrist's explanation,
Leaving me with humiliation.
Verdict inept, wrong sentence, wrong label,
To sit at a desk or do gym, unable.
How can this be, bewildered and floundering,
when recently awarded a cup for Best All Rounder?
Injustice surrounds this thing called ME,
Dismissed, no compassion or empathy.
Bizzare diagnosis, full of intrigue,
endless theories emcompassing ME.
Most common of all, yes you have guessed –
Malingerer, lazy, so very depressed?!
No more therapies left to try,
Of positive thoughts, my mind has run dry.
Pacing and tracing each step of the day,
strive to do life in a different way.
Talking to counsellors, family, friends,
Exercise, vitamins, diets galore,
so tired of trying, but can I try more?
And what of the many children,
Out of school, forgotten, a shell.
Five years old, dysfunctional – yet so clever,
Imagining their own little hell?!!
Most friends long gone – so bored with ME,
Need to find strength, have to break free.
Do they believe that this is my choice,
Bound in a prison, no freedom or voice?
And would THEY cope, with so little hope,
of regaining this person called ME,
Trapped in a vacuum of ridicule, disdain and stolen identity?
Politicians, Consultants, Doctors, PLEASE acknowledge ME,
and thousands of others in Society.
We still hold on to our fading dreams,
But just ask that you HEAR our SILENT SCREAMS.
Confusion, Great Sadness – Please Enlighten ME God.
Is ME real,
Or is it ME that's just odd?
