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10 Spoons: A Poem About Living With Chronic Illness

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10 Spoons

I know you struggle to understand what my life has now become,
How this happy soul who was full of life has slowly come undone,
I’ve tried my very hardest to make you understand,
How our life we have together is not what we had planned,
So let me try just one last time to make you try and see,
That every day’s a struggle just trying to be me.
Imagine you start every day with 10 spoons to face the day,
For every physical activity you throw at least one spoon away.
So when I wake each morning after very little sleep,
The pain again it rises and through my body it will seep.
I’ll raise myself up out of bed and get up to face the day,
But that comes at a price, a spoon in fact, so I throw a spoon away.
Now getting dressed may seem a breeze for those who do not know,
The pain of every twist and bend all done so painfully slow.
Once done I hear the children call, it’s time to start the day,
Again I lose another spoon, just getting dressed took one away.
Off downstairs I take myself to tend and feed the kids,
Breakfast, book bags, the trip to school, all jobs my body forbids.
Once done I’m left exhausted, two more spoons just now have went,
Do you see now how so quickly those four spoons have been spent?
Kids at school it’s time to do the housework for the day,
I’ll do the washing and the ironing, another spoon I’ll have to pay.
Then there’s cleaning and the meals to cook for when you all return,
That’s two more spoons I’m left without, are you starting now to learn?
I’ll collect the children, bring them home and organize their tea,
Help with homework and then bath them, that’s three less spoons for me.
The kids in bed it’s time once more to tidy round and clean,
To prepare for yet another day, every day the same routine.
But wait! There are no spoons left! And my body screams with pain,
The tiredness now consumes me and a fog creeps in my brain.
I’ve nothing left, no more to give, the spoons have all run dry.
I’ve jobs to do, I’ve things to sort but all I do is sit and cry.
This is my life, every single day, the only difference being,
The amount of spoons I start with, there’s no knowing or guaranteeing.
Please tell me now you understand a little better than before,
How every day I’m handed spoons but am always needing more.

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Thinkstock photo via Gokcemim.

Originally published: July 12, 2017
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