Chronic: a poem

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Chronic

Persisting for a long time or constantly reoccurring

A dance made for one, insides constantly burning.

You look at me and see a face, a body, maybe not much different than your own

And wonder why today, like so many others, I haven’t left my home.

I’m up all night from a new medication, praying to a God

I’m uncertain exists, for a temporary vacation.

You may be confused, as many are just what is wrong,

And when I disclose my battle, you will praise me for being so strong.

Chronic. Chronically ill, that’s what I am told,

And it doesn’t matter if I’m mad, woman, gay, straight, or how old.

When I was first diagnosed I felt a range of emotions

From rage, to confusion, concern. So alone, drowning in my own ocean.

The doctors had hope and ordered test after test,

But no matter how hard I tried to keep up, I couldn’t catch my breath.

Along with chronically ill came a list of other things

That no one really wanted to hear, so I kept it bottled in.

Chronic diarrhea, chronic constipation, at the same time,

And chronic moon face from prednisone, you’d think it was a crime

That something meant to heal would have such horrible side effects

Like weight gain, weight loss, or making you suicidally depressed.

People give me stupid advice, tell me eat this or that,

And god forbid they tell me to exercise or comment on how I’ve gotten fat.

But hear me out, chronic isn’t always that bad,

Because of being chronically ill, I’ve been given the chance to be chronically glad.

Chronically supported by my husband or wife,

And chronically in hospitals, or having procedures to get a second chance at life.

Some of us live with bags or tubes or don’t even have butts

And give us five minutes, you will see we truly are Girls With Guts.

I’m not only a chronically ill individual

I am chronically strong, chronically brave, chronically beautiful.

I have found a group that chronically supports me

And constantly cheerleads the ups, the downs, and all parts of my story.

They sit with me in the lows and cry when I cry

And when once in awhile we just want to be chronically high.

Chronic.

Persisting for a long time or constantly reoccurring

And now, what I see, is that it’s my soul that is burning

Because I am chronically joined to thousands of you

Who understand exactly, to a T, just what I’ve been through

No other group I could be in has so much difficult physical strife,

But being chronically ill, I get to be a Girl With Guts for life.

 Marissa is a 27 year old from Toledo Ohio. She has her Bachelor’s degree in Social Work and is currently pursuing her Master’s Degree in Nursing. Marissa is a full time nanny for a five year old with Autism and works at her local Domestic Violence Shelter. She found a passion for writing after diagnosis in 2016. She is in recovery from alcohol and drugs, as well as an eating disorder. She lives with her boyfriend, Chris, and her two dogs, Charlie and Kreider.

Marissa is a 27 year old from Toledo Ohio. She has her Bachelor’s degree in Social Work and is currently pursuing her Master’s Degree in Nursing. Marissa is a full time nanny for a five year old with Autism and works at her local Domestic Violence Shelter. She found a passion for writing after diagnosis in 2016. She is in recovery from alcohol and drugs, as well as an eating disorder. She lives with her boyfriend, Chris, and her two dogs, Charlie and Kreider.

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Kristen SandersComment