Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Hell Has a Prescription Name


Crawl Through Glass

Hours---mine have been a turtle’s crawl through broken glass.
How did life disappear into a camera shot?
One day I was capturing sand and sea through my lens.
The next I was a semi invalid staring at swollen fingers
that could barely hold a cup.
I can’t quiet the poetry. Fear strikes my brain with its hammering,
“Will you ever write again?”

Feet Can’t Dance

Damn my feet that don’t want to carry me across the room.
Those pain pills on the counter might as well be on the moon.
I can’t reach either destination.
I’m so angry I can’t dance. I am a free spirit glued to a recliner.

Slipping Into Death

My face feels crushed. Pain---I can’t stand it. I don’t want
to go to the emergency room again. Will death take it away?
I am too weak to fight. Darkness is becoming more comforting.
My body shivers from 103 degrees.
Charlie, promise me you will publish my book.

The Erosion of Self Sufficiency

I can’t dress myself….agony is putting on a t- shirt. Potty chair, shower seat…
How did I turn eighty? Angels get tired. I see Charlie’s wings drooping. Windows
all around. The mailbox is so far away. Was it two weeks ago that I dodged raindrops
to see what was inside?

Hell Has a Prescription Name

Double pneumonia, a possible secondary infection attacking the joints,
perhaps you should see an infectious disease doctor, no a rheumatologist.
Have I done anything different? Think, break through the fog.
Medicine...I started taking Cozaar. Side effects, what are they?
Respiratory infections, swelling in face, hands, feet, knee pain, depression,
hell has a prescription name.

Rising on prayers and good thoughts

Not another pill…throw the bottle away. Each day some improvement…
That is what Charlie tells me. Depression is still clouding hope.
Friends and family are praying. Best wishes sent daily.
Standing on my own, where’s my cane? Freedom hobbles on swollen feet.
My fingers are moving again….so many tears. I actually write a few words.
Poetry has returned. Thank you..tiny words with enormous gratitude.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
Kerry at Real Toads gave us the challenge to paint with words using the Zhuihitsu method.
My world the last month has been dark so that is the pallet I chose to paint from.


11 comments:

Teresa said...

So much pain here. I certainly hope you are able to find a new rainbow of colors for your world.

Daydreamertoo said...

I feel for you for all of this Susie. I have Lupus (S.L.E) and know all too well about constant pain. It's very debilitating to say the least. My doctor once gave me a script for a chest infection which was penicillin based but she forgot I was highly allergic, made me so sick, I thought I'd never be right again. Had to wait til it went all through my system and it crawled to all of my extremities agonizingly slowly. When it reached the palms of my hands I could have cried from the pain and when it reached the soles of my feet I could hardly walk on them for the pain again and then the top of my head. And I was taking several cool/warm soaks in baths a day just to try to ease the heat/burning too.
My heart goes out to you for this suffering Susie. Thanks goodness you are not going through this alone and, I'm certain you will make a full recovery because you yourself will make it so!
Take care of you, there is one thing that you will never lose, the poetry in you. :)

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Wow, Susie, for that degree of suffering, I think the drug company should be held liable. They nearly killed you. I so could see the mental image of Charlie with his wings drooping. And yes, my friend, your poetry has returned. It never left. It was just waiting for you to be well enough to lift the pen.

I am so grateful and relieved that you are beginning to recover. Wow, what a scare!

Fantastic writing, kiddo!

Susan said...

Thank you for writing and articulating this month of pain, misery, angels, stress, mystery, and recovery with your sweet happiness that the words and the ability to get them on paper returned.

From the frying pan into the fire is a saying that pertains to prescription drug reactions. Feel better, poet, kiss your angels, and write.

Kateri said...

This resonated with me--both as a nurse and as someone who deals with chronic fatigue daily. Sending thoughts of recovery and hope your way.

Margaret said...

The mailbox is so far away. Was it two weeks ago that I dodged raindrops to see what was inside? ...

Susie, sharing like this is such a generous thing to do - it does (and will) give me and others strength when hardships arrives at our door. Keep us informed as to your progress as we Toads worry about you... but it seems like your lovely spirit has kicked in and is fighting the good fight.

sreeja harikrishnan said...

So much pain....but so nicely written words......hope you are recovering and soon be a able to throw away that stick away.....my hugs and love for you.....

Laurie Kolp said...

Susie- I'm so sorry you went through this and agree with Sherry that the drug company should at least be notified! I'm so glad you're on the other side of this nightmare now... you are my hero!

Mary said...

Susie, you have gone through 'hell and back.' What a dreadful experience; but I am glad to hear that the worst is over and that you are returning to the 'land of the living' and able to write poetry again! My prayers are with you.

hedgewitch said...

I so wish you well, Susie--such a nightmare, especially for a young person, though horrible for anyone, but to feel your options and your world just taken away by physical conditions is terrifying--and you project it here so overwhelmingly, skillfully, authentically. Your poetry is indeed back, and it's my great pleasure to read it again.

Susie Clevenger said...

Thanks everyone for you care and support. I am so thankful to be back to writing. I really missed it and reading all the wonderful work of my fellow poets.