Words from an MSA Sufferer

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WORDS FROM AN MSA SUFFERER

© 2016 by _Helen Turner_

 

I’m afflicted with Multiple System Atrophy,

It’s become my very personal catastrophe;

My good health has vanished - so un-really,

I can no longer run, write or speak out clearly.

 

My eye-sight is now double-vision and blurred,

My speech is so soft, stuttering and slurred;

Precious few comprehend my mumbled words,

Others think I’m a ‘druggo’ flying with the birds.

 

My dystonic eyelids tend to drop an’ close,

Is there Botox relief.? – only heaven knows;

My dystonic toes don’t move as they should,

Now my crazy feet lack feel, as if made of wood.

 

Feeling ‘pins and needles’, an’ freezing of gait,

Coupled with spasms, leaves me a hellish fate;

Dystonic feet an’ legs give nerve crazy behaviour,

Regular leg moves an’ walking, my other saviour.

 

My blood pressure now drops to bugger-all,

As if to guarantee that I’m bound to fall;

My toes cause imbalance when I’m standing,

I pray as I fall, that this one’s a soft landing.

 

Yes, I often fall – muscles tear and bones break,

But, I remain independently mobile for sanity sake;

My ‘Black Dog’ feelings are without expression,

There’s little peace of mind whilst in depression.

 

My posture is now crouched over and bent,

I have many frustrations an’ anguish to vent;

I grieve for good times lost, now in the past,

Please God – may they find relief for me – fast.

 

A chemical cocktail is now my daily bread

prescribed meds need be taken asleep in bed.!

I’m on Stalevo, Lipitor, Sinemet and Rivotril,

Plus Movicol, EC Combi, Baclofen and Cipramil.

 

Should I upset my sequence of prescribed drugs,

My day seems ruined – so, I sleep it off under rugs;

My short term memory now mixed up an’ tattered,

Names, events an’ places lost – leaves me shattered.

 

I’m ashamed of how I make a mess with my food,

But, my Exercise Physiologist won’t let me brood;

She encourages my independence an’ mobility,

Her efforts have delayed my onset of senility.

 

My muscles give me cramps, spasms and pain,

Even family don’t understand why I often complain;

I now tire easily and need long periods of rest,

I may appear as a bludger – but, I’m doing my best.!

 

My hands claw an’ my face assumes a crooked mask,

My smile is now a strange grimace – why, I ask.?

Little children now look at me – as if in fear,

I feel like I need to hide, or simply disappear.

 

I might look like a silly, drooling, twisted ‘old fart’,

But, I still love living life an’ I have a big heart;

Without my family’s love and my caring friends,

I’m sure I’d just give up, an’ hasten life’s end.

 

Please God – may researchers stumble upon a cure,

So that MSA sufferers become fewer and fewer;

Why must we humans suffer this terrible disease.?

Maybe, we’re obliged to pray an’ drop to our knees.?