Paralysis Times Three

21
The first time I woke all numb
Equally from my knees down
Traveling up and stopping
At the bottom of my ribs

I found my own therapy
In no time at all
I left the Hospital
All weak and tingly legged

We road tripped out west and on the way
I built up my strength with Hacky Sacs
Soaked my legs in Hot Springs
Then tingly I ran the Oregon coast
~
26
The second time my feet hurt real bad
My left big toe was numb
Later that day it moved
Equally from my knees down

It rose up my body to stop at the bottom of my ribs
Then it turned and jumped to my hands
I was 3 months pregnant
They said it was in my head

I perfected my own therapy
Walking once more
I left the Hospital knowing
It would be awhile till the tingly left again
~
31
The third and final time at last I knew why
I was numb and tingly, unable to stand
I faced the battle more angry then afraid
A relapse from MS different then the rest

I felt tremendous pain too mind boggling extreme
At times it could have flipped me out
But I was stronger no doubt
With Morphine on my side

I pulled out my therapy like a pro ready to walk
But I had a limp and a hand that did not feel
I had changed, damage had been done
That’s when I made up mind this was the final one.

Now I am 36!

One Shot Wednesday by One Stop Poetry! If you would like to read poems by great poets or you would like to join the fun click here.

This poem is for a poetry book I’m putting together about coping with living with Multiple Sclerosis. These three paralysis were relapses from MS. Each time my Immune System attacked Mylen Sheath in my spine. In my case it was mostly in my neck.

I mention the ages and use them to divide time up because there is a pattern to them. A freaky pattern of years that came to be a couple of weeks ago. This time around I will break the pattern that has existed since I was 21. My birthday is 11/30.

I would love your feed back if I should add this poem or the one posted before called Three Strikes I Still Stand or both in the poetry book. Thank you!

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~Three Strikes I Still Stand~

The first time I was twenty-one
The second twenty-six
First I had a rare disease
Then it was in my head

By the third at thirty-one
I knew why I couldn’t walk
It made it a little easier
Still hard to face the truth
I have MS

The first paralysis
I fashioned my own therapy
The second I perfected it
By the third, I was a pro
At walking again

Even so, damage occurred
A numb hand, a limping leg
Plenty of nerve confusion
Very hard to heal
Nevertheless, still a goal

They say three strikes
Then you are out
I have had all three
I still Stand

~

received The Singing in the Rain Award. You can find it in the about above.

A White Tail Feather

The still of the lake calms my soul
I wait beneath the willow.
A breeze moves through her branches
lightly touching my face,
sweeping the hair from my eyes.
An Eagle calls in the distance.

My mind races with pictures and words,
adventures and quests of self and we.
Along the horizon lined with dark blue waters
bursts colors of red and orange.
I offer my asemaa.
An Eagle glides above calling my name.

Morning rises as I answer my old friend.
A gentle ripple forms on the lake
as the wind delivers our greetings to the other.
His calls are carried to my open arms.
His words pass through me.
I hear the call of an Eagle leaving with the wind.

He lands on the broken arm of an ash
on the sands of the shore near the willow.
Praising me for walking the path
many have guided me towards for years.
A choice of life destined to be.
My first tracks are laid down.

He lifts his wings and stretches
to a magnificent size of honor and respect
wisdom and truth with humility.
He tells me to listen and be open
to what crosses my path
for this is just the beginning.

Rising with every flap of his powerful wings
he lifts into the blue sky calling his goodbye.
I answer with gratitude and love
as I notice something lying on a rock.
He has left for me a piece of him
a white tail feather.

This poem is for One Shot Wednesday held by One Stop Poetry. To read other peoples works click here

Am I Drunk

I look in your face
As I stumble from my car
Purposely forgetting my cane

Unmistakable instant judgment
Is scribbled across your starring
Glare while you grab your phone
Frowning towards my daughter

I laugh and turn back to my car
Parked in the Handicap zone
I grab my cane to pass you again
Watching you stop the call
Not wanting to look my way

I cannot resist muttering
“So, you think I’m drunk
Well sorry, I have MS”

*I was thinking this piece was too bitchy but as my daughter said, “Its true.”

Drip, Drip, Drip -a Magpie prompt

Drip, Drip, Drip

She submerges in the warm bubbly water

not allowing the annoyance of the drip

to sink in and add

to her overabundant irritability.

The reason she was drove to this bathtub with bubbles

behind a locked door.

She surfaces to hear the cries of her youngest,

“Mom”  yells the oldest.

She dives back under imaging a bliss of quite,

holding her breathe for as long as she can.

The water thins as the rattle of the door gets louder.

She glances at her toes peeking out and smiles

as she climbs out she can’t help thinking through the noise,

At least my toes look awesome.

Pineapple Quest

A chimpanzee dressed in silk
Zeros in on a pineapple
He stands on a pot and watches
In a blink of an eye
Honking cars and baked streets
Turn to dry plants and a deep lake
A summer stream stands in-between
Him and the pineapple
He pulls out a hose to swing across
As a wind is blown to guide him along
He lands with a moisten to his lips
next to his pineapple quest.

This poem is for the weekly prompt put on by Big Tent Poetry. This week it is a wordle