FIbroMYalGiA

FIbroMYalGiA

A Poem by Annette Jay Sweeney
"

I'm sick. I hide this from everyone, including myself. This is a rant about just one of the symptoms of my disorder.

"

The moment the word is out of my mouth

FIbroMYalGiA

my chest clenches in annoyance.

I know before the reply that they

will ask what the f**k (well, maybe

in nicer terms) that is.

 

How to begin to describe the life changing

experience I have gone through?

What I feel is beyond normal comprehension…

so what can I say to make you see?

 

Sometimes it’s barely anything, a dull

throbbing in my bones and muscles.

The pain is a normal person’s severe back ache…

and that is on easy days. On the hard days my back

is a complex net of ties, bumps, and pinched nerves.

They fire off to try to relax every so often,

but the feeling is as if I had a seizure when awake.

I feel it all. The twang of my tissue… God, I can

almost hear it in my waking mind. I sense the

twisting and tightening of the ropes that hold

me in the disorder’s grips. It is a slow process, but

sometimes it flares, like a volcano spewing forth.

 

Some volcanos are minor, or minor to me. For me,

that is a Mount St. Helens day. It is damaging, discouraging,

and downright dreadful, but I survive without too much scarring.

Then there are the supervolcano days… it’s like living the entire

lifetime of the Yellowstone hot spot. Small geysers burst forth,

hot mud and water pits, but then comes the day where I am bedridden

as the caldera explodes and I lurch. My body twists as if

someone is sticking a pin in one of those voodoo dolls.

I can’t even speak. My entire left side drops as many of the main

muscles (I could never count them) blow, a huge spot on my back,

all at once. The repercussions send me to the ground, and

their effects ricochet throughout my body. It’s a cataclysmic

disaster, the king that would change the climate of Earth for

thousands of years, and this lasts me a few days.

 

I stop to think about this before I try to answer the

question, and tell the same bullshit answer,

“It’s some kind of muscle disorder… my back tightens

up and I have muscle spasms. It’s more complicated then that…”

and I drop off, because not only do they not want to know

more than the pain, they don’t need to, and honestly…

I don’t like to think about it.

 

Who wants to acknowledge something that

has no known cause, no known cure, and

requires me to be as careful as a sixty year old

woman with everything I do?

 

Hell, make that eighty.

© 2010 Annette Jay Sweeney


Author's Note

Annette Jay Sweeney
I know this isn't as poetic as my other pieces, but it honestly was meant as a rant and turned into this.

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Reviews



((((((((((((((((((((((((( Annette))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Posted 14 Years Ago


0 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Jeez, that is amazing, it just really makes the reade relate, and such an honest, raw, emotionally tied perspective. like I said, Wow

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

May not be poetic, but it is very emotional, and a document of your feelings. I feel for you, and wish you the best in your writing, as well as your life.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Oh wow I am so sorry, I can't even imagine what you must go through... but I truly find you courageous to open yourself up to the world and talk about it.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on April 26, 2010
Last Updated on April 26, 2010

Author

Annette Jay Sweeney
Annette Jay Sweeney

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About
Reading and writing have always provided a loving escape for me, but both are now taking on a more serious level. I thrive on reading others' work and helping them to improve, while also depicting my .. more..

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