My front line of health care
Cares no more
For it seems I have become
An obsolete bore
The person I’m meant to be able to go to
Of who I entrust my wellbeing
Brushed me aside like a piece of dust
Without so much as a feeling
It seems my health matters not
And I shouldn’t seek to find
The answers why I’m broken
That I should stumble around blind
See I’m just an inconvenience
A mere person on my own
Trying to gain support and care
Instead all that’s heard is a moan
I’m left to research blindly
And research leads to questions
But I’m not allowed to ask them anymore
For fear of intimidating eruptions
Aren’t I supposed to be able to approach my GP?
To ask about treatments and tests?
To find out information about things that concern me?
I’m beginning to think its easier to just guess
Around and around I go in circles
Speaking words said before
Wasting my little energy
Energy I will waste no more
My right to be pro active with my health
Has been retracted with a slap
For I will not seek nor find now
A way out of this trap
I will now sit in silence when I’m ill
And deal with it as best I can do
Surely this must be a better way
Then being spoken down to by you
Why does it take an outside consultant
To get any action done?
I’ve not been reporting these symptoms, problems and injuries for years
Just because I think its fun
Things changed at my appointment this morning
I will not ask for your help from today
I will not impose on you
I’ve already heard you say
Insulted, shocked
gob smacked to name a few
“What do you expect to achieve?”
The words snapped out by you
“What do I expect to achieve?”
Why no more then my health
For you that may not seem like much
But to me its an abundance of wealth
My questions met with body language
That’s suggests I’m wasting time
What doctor speaks to their patient this way?
It’s like I committed a crime
So my crime is wanting to be free of these disorders
So that I may be permitted to have a life
Its obvious that I will never be taken seriously
So why cause myself this strife?
Not an ounce of compassion
To here I’d fallen again
Though I pushed for it to be noted
Why should I have to push your pen?
Not able to take the blatant insult and disinterest
I upped and left your room
My head spinning at what had happened
Not sure at what to do
I now cant put myself through this farce anymore
For me now this has to end
To fight the medical profession anymore
Will send me around the bend
The stress of trying to be heard
To gain some kind of recognition
Drains me so much
Because it doesn’t feel like a realistic vision
So from here I will sign off
I will simply slip away
Not one more word from my mouth
Will you here me say…
