Druggie

You think I am a druggie.....
After all, I must be
I walk and talk and work and always appear
To merely be tired or lazy.....

I pop pills morning, noon, and night
And sometimes in between
But I'm still walking
I'm still talking
You think therefore there is nothing wrong with me....

But there is a side you do not see.
The pills that keep me awake and alert
Allow me the energy and strenght
To walk and work
The other one keeps my moods more even
Than what they would otherwise be....
It's all just part and parcel
of this kind of injury.

You cannot see with your naked eye
The scarring in the arteries in my legs
That makes walking tiring faster than most
and some days causes pain...
Yet I keep walking
Keep working
Keep fighting
And take a pill again.

You cannot see with your naked eye
What shows up on an MRI
Muscles with scar tissue lurking inside
broken disks
and atrophy....
But you can see the pills
So you call me a druggie.

I hid in the emergency room
When I was turning blue....
When breathing was getting too exhausting
And the effort more than my body was used to....

Now there is an inhaler and two more sets of pills
Along with injections to keep me breathing and comfortable
And thus, hide these ills....

I keep fighting
More doctors
Tests,
Rehab that never truly rests....
Maybe I get a few months here and there, but then
"late onset" gets the best....

I look for new motivations
New dreams to fit
New limitations
I try not to focus on "what if"
But rather on what it is....
A warm day
Love in my Life
the joy of a soft kiss....

I question for how long medications
Will allow me to live this way
Appearing unencumbered to the world
Appearing to be "OK."

But, I must be succeeding
In keeping up appearances...
because all you see
Is a beautiful "lazy" lady...
Who, because she takes pills
Is certainly a druggie.