Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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MEDICAL MADNESS My scars from a misdiagnosis are my armor Lord, old memories plague me in the darkness And as they rear their ugly head They only remind me of all that I've lost My life, my freedom, and my children are dead Dear God, please forgive my anger For these transgressions that I see But the medical madness that I have lived through Almost got the better of me I have no more need for food or sleep What I crave most are the sun and air But, when I look out the window of my sanctuary I see no signs of the truth anywhere out there Dear God, it's you I've turned to the most For answers, courage, and faith And as I read these medical reports of cruelty Anger washes over me, replacing the hate My Lord, I have, but five days to go Can I hold onto the hope that he'll come to my aid? I can't close my eyes, I can't find any peace From the pain these doctors continually create I see clearly such torture in one operation And I shake with the echo of hearing my pleas During the procedure, I felt what they were doing And when I slipped into unconsciousness, fear followed me When I woke up in recovery, I felt only doom All I've done for so long was cry, plead and beg Now I felt something more when I turned on my machine The electricity was not reaching my back but was running down both my legs The same surgeon that implanted the first medical device on my spine Made an error, turned his back, ignoring my pain And as I read over his remarks in my medical file It leaves me reeling in sorrow, reeling in shame Once again, I was sent back to my prison of silence I lost the job that I loved and my friends of nine years I had to find a new surgeon, but no one would touch me And each night I lay down on my pillow of tears It took three long years to find another surgeon He said he would reposition the wires, and put them in place He smiled as he spoke and promised to help me I smiled back through my fear, as I looked up at his face I believed what he promised, but I felt like a fool As I waited daily in my bed for his call Severe depression took over, and as days turned into months My doctor couldn't reach him, and I was climbing the walls My doctor's husband took over and went to his office Not leaving until he got my surgery date Workers Compensation harassed me, wouldn't leave me in peace They wanted me working, and they wouldn't wait The day finally came; I had my fifth operation Another surgeon opened me up, creating a mess When I woke up much later, I felt such foreboding When I turned on my machine, I screamed from the stress Something was wrong with the wiring; the current was closer But, still gave me no comfort as it had done before I looked up at the surgeon, feeling lost and sedated I asked God, how I would get over being sliced open once more Two weeks later, I was back for my sixth operation God helped me prepare my mind for what was to come The wires were fixed, and it was finally over I went home feeling gratitude for what had been done Alone with my sorrow, my mind and body felt mangled I recovered slowly a few more years gone I asked God for assistance in clearing my heart I tried to forgive the ones who had done me wrong Five years passed quickly, lost in depression and pills I needed Workers Compensation to help me update my skills The office software had changed from five years ago I asked my caseworker for help but received a flat, "No." I was still in grave shock as I hung up the phone There was no one beside me; I was completely alone I needed some hope I then called her manager And the kindness in his voice helped sooth some of my anger I paid into this system from the time I was ten Workers Comp cared nothing about me or the hell I'd been in When I asked them for help, their stoic response caused me shame They still said I was faking, writing I had "low back pain" I questioned my disability pension asking what that was based on When I showed them the truth, they treated me like an ex-con Why would I have to lie, or pretend to have pain? They paid me meager wages; I had nothing to gain The neurotransmitters they paid thousands for, electrocuted me twice They would have paid for a fourth, but I had a choice My adjudicator asked me nothing, and they cared even less That my depression got worse, and my body and mind were a mess When I cried on the phone, they had no empathy They said those were the rules; they had to follow policy I had to hustle and find a job, even though I was a wreck Other resources wouldn't help me, and they cut off my cheque It's been twenty-nine years and all that I know Are the mangled scars on my back, and nothing to show I still fight this corrupt Workers Comp system that refuses to care And each day I still ask God, what's the reason I'm here... © Brenda Keough..AKA Giggles the Poet March 13, 2014 God made me a poet in 1985 after a misdiagnosis "rhomboid muscle strain,' but it was a broken rib in my upper back, left in for a year, leaving me with nerve damage. But it brought ignorance and destruction to my door. for 35 years, something that won't happen to anyone else on my watch.... And for every loss, a beautiful poem was spoken to give me a new perspective and hope... The in-between of an injured worker's life life is more than a destructive thought....more than a label, and more than a disability...... Awareness and Inspiration I made it, and so can you. Today I'm a Counsellor and Empowerment Coach, helping rebuild/repair/reprogram the minds of God's angels, empowering them to STEP INTO THEIR GREATNESS MAKE YOUR MIND YOUR BITCH!
Copyright © 2020 Giggles the Poet Brenda Keough. All Rights Reserved