Hospital
A poem on my struggles with Dysautonomia
I wrote this poem a while back, but I've decided to post it in honor of October being Dysautonomia Awareness Month. POTS is something I've struggled with for over seven years now. It has taken a lot from me, but it has also given me so much more. From it, I've found strength and perseverance, family and friends that love me and fight with me, and a different outlook on life. I'm not sure if this condition will ever completely go away, but I know that I am healing, and I am getting better. I can only hope and pray that one day "POTS" won't be listed under my "medical conditions" list at the doctor's office. I hope you enjoy this poem!
My chest hurts
my heart starts to race
And my body can’t keep up
with its quickening pace.
I fall unconscious
my body slamming on the ground
I know once I wake
my head will start to pound,
My head hits the ground
bouncing like drum sticks on percussion
And now I have what seems to be
my millionth concussion.
I awake and look around
panicking, not sure of where I am
Until I see a nurse telling me,
“Don’t worry, you’re in a hospital, ma’am.”
But the doctors here
don’t know how to help me
They say all they can do
is run x-rays and a head CT.
It has now become my job
to help them connect the dots
To understand the condition I have
otherwise known as POTS.
I will finally break free
from this jail of a hospital
Only to live in fear that soon
there with be another fall.
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About the Creator
Abbey Smith
I am a 21-year-old aspiring writer. I find joy in writing about things I‘m passionate about such as mental and physical health as well as ending the stigma surrounding suicide and mental illnesses.
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