Friday, March 31, 2006


I thought it might be of some connecting benefit to include a poem I wrote in 2003 when I literally suffered through the daily shots of Copaxone. Although not currently on any of the ABC drugs (Avonex, Betaseron, Copaxone) commonly prescribed to help control the progression of Multiple Sclerosis, I vividly recall my daily struggle of "medication compliance".
Perhaps more importantly if you have MS, you may connect to the deeper meaning of this poem that speaks to the betrayal we sometimes feel from our bodies and the emotional cost we pay in trying to maintain that delicate balance of body and soul.

It is not the needle itself
That stirs such insult
Inside my soul.
Hollow and cold,
Made of harmless stainless steel
Each puncture of my skin
Is such a mindless act.
A daily repetition,
As simple as brushing my teeth
Or combing my hair.
The needle's depth
Does not stop
At the surface
Of my skin, however.
The puncture goes beyond
The outer flesh of my being
And penetrates my
Most sacred and private
Hiding places within,
Leaving tiny, little holes
In the fortress walls
Of my soul.
I feel vulnerable and afraid
And saddened
By the mortality
Of my physical self
That I should need
This needle's daily delivery
Of medication
Designed to prolong
My body's existence.
I am angered my body
Has betrayed the rest
Of my being.
It is only just my flesh
Should have to endure
This ritual.
But my soul cries
And bleeds
A little more grief
Each day the needle
Passes through it.

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