Tuesday, 30 August 2011

I don't know why I've got M.E. (NOT an ode to Simple Simon!)



I don't know why I've got M.E.
It can't be accidental.
Now Simon Wessely smiles his smile
And says it's mostly mental.

I used to do all sorts of things
Working, playing, thriving.
But these days I am just so sick
I'm only just surviving.

Those flu jabs and those viruses
They always made me ropey,
For weeks and months I used to feel
So iffy, crashed and dopey.

I drove myself to carry on,
So much still to achieve,
But some days I'm too weak to walk.
My sickness just won't leave.

It took an age to diagnose,
It took so long to name.
Now there's a brolly called CFS,
Which isn't quite the same!

They sent me off to talk it out
They called that CBT.
The exercise that made me flop
Was GET, you see.

On days when I can make some sense
Inside my foggy brain,
I try to raise awareness.
Simon says I'm not quite sane.

And every time I do things,
Simple stuff I used to manage
With minimum of effort,
Causes untold pain and damage.

My limbs are sometimes cold to touch,
Or burning like a fire,
Simon says it's in my head,
I'm just a workshy liar.

The words I used to work with
In my ministry and writing
Go AWOL as I try to think.
My energy? Gone like lightning.

My muscles twitch and tremble.
When I walk, the ground's like rubber.
Nausea's now a way of life,
Yet I'm some benefit bludger?

The floor that once seemed smooth and flat
Is now like mountaineering.
A blowtorch must have scorched my eyes,
Strange ringing dogs my hearing.

I'm bruised from walking into things
I'm crushed from all I've lost.
They're sure it's biomedical
Yet Simon won't be crossed!

He has his little theories
He cooked up years ago,
But science is making progress,
What the heck does Simon know?

The papers give him headlines,
The journos lick his boots.
Is it our paranoia
To suggest they're in cahoots?

The powerful health insurers,
Drug companies, MPs,
And NICE which isn't nice at all,
Who lives in a myth like these?

Often M.E. gets my body down,
But I won't lie down in spirit;
Some day biomarkers will mark our cure.
That's worth the wait, now, innit? 

Till then, we've got each other, guys,
To help keep a positive smile on.
One day our brains will be free of fog,
And the likes of Simple Simon!



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