Category Archives: Poems

Poems about Parkinson’s disease and chronic illnesses

Doing Drugs

 There’s a pill for my shaking

That I should be taking

And a pill to help that pill go down.

 

There’s a pill for my legs

That I can’t have with eggs

But I still do if no one’s around.

***

There’s a pill for the pain

It works in sunshine but not rain

And a pill for the lack of a good memory.

 

There’s a pill for the down days

that I must take for always

or I’ll seem to be somebody else – not me.

***

There’s a vitamin I take

That aides the pill that helps me not shake

And another that helps all around.

 

I counted my pill stash

Something I can’t do with my cash

As the cash is spent on all these pills that abound.

***
Azilect, Vitamin E, Vitamin D,

Requip, Carbadopa, Lexapro, they be

All these into my mouth they must go.

 

Add to that Sinemet and Artane,

Don’t forget the pill that helps with the  pain

‘Cause I follow doctor’s orders, it’s so.

***

There’s plenty more

At the local drugstore

It’s convenient to just make a call.

 

I ask for a refill

Of this pill and that pill

They’ll be happy to give you them all.

***
Just name your price

They’ll treat you real nice

And tell you what you don’t want to hear

 

“That’ll be three hundred dollars, please”

“But I have no insurance , you see”

And they keep your stash and offer an “Oh,dear.”

***

 

You wonder if it matters if you skip a pill

After all, you’ve certainly had your fill

But you come up with nothing but… empty.

 

You’re a young person still

With a disease against your will

Trying to make the best of a travesty.

 

***

So pay the fee to pop the whites and the reds

And just before climbing up and snuggling into bed

Don’t forget to take the purple and orange one, too.

 

For when you awake the next morning

And you feel like you are soaring

Just remember, those pills are helping you be you.

This Is Parkinson’s

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my knees are shakin’
it’s not from being nervous
this is parkinson’s

stiff muscles abound
throughout my aching body
this is parkinson’s

lips quiver, teeth click
smile turns into a frown
this is parkinson’s

toes and fingers bend
involuntarily ‘cuz
this is parkinson’s

legs, arms, sides, back and
stomach seize up in great pain
this is parkinson’s

voice falters and fades
i shout and they yell ‘speak up’
this is parkinson’s

i choke on my food
swallowing becomes harder
this is parkinson’s

tripping and falling
walking like a cute penguin
‘cuz of parkinson’s

writing becomes hard
what once was legible is
now parkinson’s scratch

depression and some
forgetfulness issues are
because of it too

the little monster
is to blame
for most all of
that is wrong with me

the good and the bad
and the happy and the sad
a blessing, a curse

badly plugged poop stools
(to make it fit this haiku)…
due to parkinson’s

with one side I am
almost free and with the other
i am bound in chains

to a disease they –
I – we – all call parkinson’s
‘cuz that’s what it is

confusion and a
thing called forgetfulness could
be the… i forget

greater now is the
understanding, compassion,
‘cuz of parkinson’s

confusion, and some
irritability are
blamed on parkinson’s

and why not? if i
must bare this crazy disease
i ask you – why not?

why not blame it for
being snappy and silly
and for all things else

like running into
walls and tripping over chairs
and things of that kind?

why not blame it for
everything in life gone wrong?
seems fair to me, huh?

it took from my life
what wasn’t its to take and…
it just keeps taking

but am i angry?
no – i hold no grudges on
things i cannot see

and though i can see
God in this world around me
i aim no blame at Him

i do not see Him
in this hideous disease
but because of it

i see Him because
of His comfort and His care
and the way He loves

with His strong arms and
His great, matchless mercy and
never ending grace

He is in the all
His faithfulness trustworthy
with hope i endure

it may be ‘cuz of
parkinson’s
that i suffer
or maybe it’s not

but this i do know…
it’s because of God i live
joy unspeakable

There’s  A Monster In My Pocket

 

I have a little monster in my pocket

that goes wherever I go

He makes me do things I dont want to do

Like shake and walk real slow


I have this little monster

a gift, a sort of a blessing you see

I didnt ask for it, wasnt shopping around

But it snuck into my life quite anonymously.


At first I wanted to throw it as far  as I could – 

refuse the gift that was given to me

I screamed “I’m tossing it out – I’m throwing it away”
But alas, it was for me to keep.

Little Monster makes me do some crazy things

And feel a little bit crazy, it’s  ttrue

He makes me sleepy, I often move a little slower

he doesnt let me do the things that I want to do.

 

Somedays I want him off my back

Far away, never to be heard of again

But I  learned to turn Little Monster

From a monster into a new kind of friend.

 

Little Monster has allowed me to see

suffering and sorrow in a much different way

and how the pain Little Monster  can bringg

affects its recipients from day to day.

 

Little Monster stays quiet in a little pocket

deep inside of my head

some people never see him

some people have  (or so theyve said).

 

I can see him and feel him and touch him

because hes with me every day

staring back at me in the mirror

reminding me I’m stuck with him, come what may.

 

But I play this card called real life

Putting everything in it Ive got

All my resources, my time, my everything, my all

Its not much, but I call it a lot.

 

Someday I will take Little Monster from my brain pocket

Set him down, far, far away from me

Ill say enough is enough, good riddance to you

Youve taken enough of my energy.

 

I may have PD, but it doesnt have me

Thats my new motto in life for this day

Ill live however I can, given all that Ive got

And thank God He is my constant along life’s crazy  way. 

 

Copyright 2015

Sherri Woodbridge 

 

Keep On Keeping On

First it was this, then it was that

and we finally knew it was PD

when the doctor gave me his final diagnosis

I was at the young age of just 43.

 

Twitching and tremors, loss of smell

and no more a sense of taste

comes to those who carry whatever it is

that ultimately decides our fate.

 

Everyone might think they understand

what's going on inside of me

but how could they begin to actually know

when they've never had this dreaded disease?

 

The symptoms are treated with different therapies

Sinemet, Azilect – more pills galore

they treat the symptoms you already have

while granting you at least a few more.

 

Shaking and twitching, while stumbling and falling

are just a few things that might b

but you can't know what's really going on

inside of the me you can't see.

 

The frustration and heartache of things

that I don't completely understand

things like – why I can no longer taste, nor anything smell

or hold anything with my hand.

 

The muscles are weak, though the spirit is strong-

that's a part of what makes this so sad –

If I didn't care about what monster is doing to me

Would that make it seem not so bad?

 

Still – I wonder if, in five more years

if I'll be able to dress myself and get out the door

there are so many things left for me to do in this life

smell the roses, hold my grandchildren and so much more.

 

There are times all I want to do is plop down and rest

the pain in my body is telling me to stop

but the fight inside tells me to “Continue! Go on!”

so it's “Keep on keeping on!” 'til I drop

 

I suppose I could rest more for another day

but for another day of what?

To sit and watch life pass me by?

Thank you, no – I'm deliberately avoiding that rut.

 

And so, even though each days brings the unknown to light

of what this disease has to offer to me,

I'll keep on keeping on, of that be assured

and I'll do it with great intensity.

 

When Parkinson’s Is Getting the Best of Me

when i am older

and parkinson's wants the best of me,

remember that i loved German chocolate cake

make one and feed it to me.

 

when i am older

and parkinson's begins to try and take the best of me,

remember that i loved the music of steven curtis chapman

and play it loud for me.

 

when i am older,

and parkinson's seems to be getting the best of me,

remember how i loved flowers

and pick a bunch for me.

 

when i am older,

and parkinson's continues to fight to get the best of me,

remember how i loved the songs that the birds would sing

and sit me on the porch, so i may hear them sing a song to me.

 

when i am weaker

and parkinson's seems to be getting the 'all that's left of me',

remember how i used to love to take walks,

and shove me in a wheelchair and take a walk with me.

 

when i am older

and parkinson's seems to be winning the battle against me

don't stop fighting the hard fight for a cure

for all – not just for me.

 

when i am weaker

and parkinson's has taken my words from me

remember how much i loved you

and i'll be in a much better place soon

so be happy – for me.

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