A Conversation for Multiple Sclerosis

Multiple Sclerosis Poem

Post 1

pedboy



I had to pass it on; this is a great poem that I received. I did not have anything to do with the wonderful writing. I feel it is written about me…

Multiple Sclerosis Poem Source: Anthology The Falling Rain published by the International Society of Poetry Multiple Sclerosis, it is called, a misnomer that scarcely describes it at all.

Fatigue I'd take and very gladly, But fatigue alone makes no one feel this badly.

Multiple Sclerosis, what a trivial name, which in no way describes the excruciating pain.

Aching muscles and joints, unsteady gait, undaunting headaches, photosensitivity, gaining untoward weight.

My hands have tremors; my anguish grows.

I drop things; I can't feel my toes.

I alternate from numbness to pain.

Give me numbness, I pray, the pain is so great.

I get so cold even in summer.

Yet sometimes in winter I throw off the covers.

Touch me in different places then you will see different parts of my body vary, in warmth and degree.

Don't touch me when I hurt, my muscles are so sore.

When you massage them they knot up, and that only hurts me more.

My face looks the same, yet it isn't me!!

How did I get trapped in this body?

It won't move when I say, "Go."

It won't think of things I know.

Not I, independent and intelligent, two factors that for me, seem to be spent.

A wheelchair, a walker, a cane for me, at various times I have used all three.

Not just an ordinary wheelchair will do, now I have one with batteries too.

Multiple Sclerosis, but I can't sleep, up and down tossing between the sheets.

Then when I finally do get to sleep, the sleep is rarely REM or deep.

With the slightest sound I'm awake.

How much more of this can I take?

"What did you say?" I sometimes ask.

Familiar language sounds strange to me.

My brain hears sounds, but has lost meaning of vocabulary.

At times it is difficult to hear, at others, sound is like a gong in my ears.

Once I used to love to read, but, with MS, sometimes I can barely see.

There is not much use in reading anyway, when my memory's impaired and Thoughts just don't stay.

On sunny days I feel much better.

This illness can predict the weather.

On sunny days there is less pain, But, oh Dear God, don't let it rain.

Once I spoke in public professionally, often with slurred speech now, few can understand me.

The sequencing part of my brain is affected, routine tasks seem disconnected.

I worked long and hard to earn two degrees.

I have helped many others, yet none can really help me.

So I must accept and be on disability.

Medications are of little avail; most make me worst and hit the trash pail.

It must be a nightmare, so, why don't I wake up?

Oh, dear Lord, must I drink from this cup?


smiley - zen
smiley - towel

pedboy®


Multiple Sclerosis Poem

Post 2

moved to new address

Thank you for the poem. Don't know what else to say. Thank God no-one I know and love has this awful condition, but my heart goes out to anyone who has it or someone they love has. None of us ever knows what is around the next corner. We should all remember to count our blessings every day.

Corrie smiley - earth


Multiple Sclerosis Poem

Post 3

BIG BROTHER

nice put smiley - smiley


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