6.24.24

It was ten years ago that I was last a patient in a hospital,

Ten years ago that my life was changed forever.

My mind kept flashing back to how things were before,

How I felt like I was on my death march approaching the entrance,

How scared and helpless I felt in the tomb my body had become,

How gutted I felt listening to the screams of children sick and in pain.

Just when I got those screams out of my head, there they were tormenting me once again.

I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed, covering my ears and shaking my head,

Trying to wake up from the nightmare I found myself reliving.

The device that is supposed to make my life easier, put me in danger.

The lessons I learned from the experiences I’ve had, gave me nothing when I need them most.

I was once again a scared little girl, hating myself and the world,

Feeling the cuffs from the ball and chain digging into my skin so deep that I bled with each step.

My blood work was perfect, my articulate explanations impressed each doctor,

They’re so used to seeing diabetics who don’t take care of themselves,

They assure me what happened wasn’t my fault.

I know it wasn’t, and that’s the scariest thing of all.

I did everything right, yet there I still was hooked up to wires in a hospital bed.

I didn’t go into DKA, but this was the closest I’d ever came.

Living with a chronic illness means you forget how often you brush with death,

And last night I felt like he was standing there, watching and waiting,

While I silently begged for mercy.

Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay, and the answer is always yes,

Because no matter what, I have to be okay.

The alternative is letting my body do the thing it wants above all else,

To kill me and chuck me into Death’s cold embrace