Junkie

I am a junkie
I realize
as I draw the methotrexate into the syringe.
as fear grips my heart at the idea that
I won’t be able to get my drugs
as I push the air and ensuing drop
of the Etanercept
off the end of the needle

I am a junkie
I don’t get high
from my drugs of “choice”
I get nauseous
A headache
itchy and bruised
balding
and every time hopeful
That this time my fix
will chase away the swelly pain.

I am a junkie
An RA Junkie
hear my song
I live
from injection to injection
from week to week
The hope of “remission”
an elusive dream

 

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One response to “Junkie

  1. If only this dream could become a reality for us, a reality of relief and possibly reprieve. A poem so well written and so true.

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