The Beautiful Sick People

I edited my poem...

The Beautiful Sick people

I am smiling.
My eyes are bright.
You see, I have the fight.
I want out!
I want to live my life.
I look healthy.
Petite, skinny, young: a society’s definition of beauty.
Oh, but look at me
I can eat and eat and eat and never gain weight
Truly the envy of my friends and family.
I come to clinic
I do what is expected of me
I work hard
I am the perfect patient.
Inside I am rotting.
Even on a good day I have crackles, I struggle to cough out mucus
to not loose my breath and need oxygen.
My blood sugar is now a problem
I must take insulin.
I must eat
I must watch what happens
I must always think about what is going on inside my body.
I get on the scale, 119. DAMN.
I lost weight.
All I did was try to eat healthy foods like fruits and veggies,
I just want to be normal.
I take my blood sugar, 60. DAMN.
I have to drink juice so I can stop sweating and shaking.
I blow into my pft machine. 1.13. GREAT!
My numbers are up, but it is not as good as it used to be.
My life is shortening as these get smaller.
I put my finger in my O2 sat meter. 94.
Eh, could be better….
I put on my vest,
Cough, spit, check the color… light in color, GOOD.
Small amounts of blood, DAMN.
I burp, vomit comes up, GROSS. I hate that part.
My bones are thin. Taking medicine for post menopausal women.
I feel like an old lady.
The stomach starts to expand and swell. Are you pregnant?
For just a moment I pretend, a pregnant belly, that won’t be.
No, just constipated.
Must take golytlely. The pain of intaking gallons of fluid to push out stuck poo…
GROSS.
What happened to my dignity?
What happened to my beauty?
It is lost to my CF.
Yup, Just farted. GROSS AGAIN.
When you look at me
I am dressed well
I smile
I strike up a good conversation.
I am a charmer.
I want you to like me. If you knew all this gross stuff would you judge me?
So I make you see the beautiful person on the outside.
I can even fool the doctors, sometimes.
Some wish they could be this skinny.
They wish they looked as young as me.
They value my youth.
I still have a twinkle in my eye, and a joke to tell, BUT
Beauty on the inside?
My bodily struggles are hiding, not visible to you.
But if you listen, you will see that I am a mess.
Rotting on the inside.
Just a day in the life of a BEAUTIFUL SICK PERSON.