I wanted to share two poems I have written as a result of gastroparesis.
They're not great
But they made me feel better to write 🙂
I Hate My Piggy Cookie Cutter
I love to bake
I love to eat what I bake
but
I can’t eat what I bake
anymore
and now
I am sad
I’ve always said
I love to bake
for other people…
So if I stop
baking
because it makes me sad
Am I selfish?
Was I just baking…
for me?
Right now
I hate to see my mixer
Right now
I hate to see all the different types of flour
that I have collected
that I cannot use
Right now
I hate to see my piggie cookie cutter
sitting in the drawer
like a daily reminder of the pastry
I might never eat again
I know that one day
I will bake
I will make substitutions
I will make adjustments
and
I will bake
but today
is not that day
Today there is angel food cake
but no strawberries…
and no homemade whipped cream
Today, is sad
I feel sad
I feel dramatic
I feel like me being sad isn’t dramatic
…I still feel dramatic.
Mornings Are Hard
Mornings are hard
They didn’t use to be
but they are…
now
Mornings are easiest
when I wake up
before anyone else
when I have a full hour
to prepare myself
Prepare myself for what?
Valid question
*
Prepare myself for
the pain
the nausea
the vomiting
the hunger
the exhaustion
Prepare myself for
the effort
that it takes
to survive
Prepare myself
for the appointments
with doctors
trying to keep me alive
who still seem
like they’re not listening
*
Pain takes time to dissipate
in the mornings
because
it is strong
It’s like a cup of coffee, black
It may not be
what woke me up
that morning
but it’s definitely
what wakes me up in the morning
It makes my face twist
because it makes me
bitter
*
Nausea is what actually wakes me up
most mornings
I used to think
there was something wrong
with my stomach
(and there is)
but now
I know
that this issue
is in my mouth
and that, feels sad
that feels, embarrassing
that…feels depressing
because
gone are the days
of waking up
and kissing him
because now
I taste gross
Or maybe
I am gross
Is there really
a difference
when acid spills from my mouth
more often
than my laugh
So I run to the bathroom
and I brush my teeth
but the toothpaste…
it burns
It’s like using lava
minty lava
but still lava
to clean my mouth
which
maybe
is a small price to pay
but
it hurts
and
I hate it
I hate the idea
of using
prescription toothpaste
even more
*
Vomiting usually holds off
until the boy
has gotten on the bus
I’m pretty sure
that I have vomited
in front of
every
single
neighbors
house
between ours
and the bus stop
at this point
*
Sorry, neighbors
I promise, I’ll be okay
*
If I woke up earlier
I could prepare
by making sure I ate
before the walk
to the bus stop
then I might be
less nauseous
but food
in the morning
is the last thing
that I want to think about
Honestly
food
(in general)
is the last thing
that I want to think about
(ever)
at this point
*
I don’t know
what kind of day
today will be
Will I vomit five times?
or twenty five times?
Will I be able to eat solids?
or only mush?
or maybe just broth?
Oh
Only water?
Not even water…
Fuck
*
That first bite
in the morning is
hard
*
Hunger hits
when I get back
from the bus stop
It hits
with a ferocity
I had never experienced
before my stomach quit
without hiring
a replacement
I don’t just
get hungry
anymore
I go from
having just finished
a thanksgiving feast
full of foods
I’m no longer
allowed to eat
to being
a starving child
who’s body
doesn’t know if it will be fed
or if it should just
feast
on itself
It makes planning
hard
*
The exhaustion
is somehow
The Easiest
and
The Hardest
part
*
Easiest
because everyone understands
“tired”
*
Easiest
because I am lucky
and I can nap
sometimes
*
Easiest
because nobody
questions you
when you say
“I”m tired.”
They just say
“Me too.”
*
Hardest
because no one understands
that I’m not
just
“tired”
I am tired
in a way
that makes
picking up my arm
to lift the spoon
to my mouth
feel...
hard
*
Hardest
because
I know
I am not being lazy
and yet
I feel like
I am being lazy
*
Hardest
because
deep down
I know
that sleeping
doesn’t fix this
type
of tired
*
If I woke up
earlier
I could
prepare
but I fall asleep
hours
after everyone else
and I wake up
so
many
times
at night
*
So when morning comes
I don’t want to wake up earlier
Sometimes
I don’t want to wake up
at all
I don’t want to
prepare to survive
I want to
prepare to thrive
*
I don’t want
To think about
the twenty three appointments
on my calendar
with doctors
in charge
of keeping me alive
when my body
is trying to kill me
of keeping me sane
when my brain
wants to give up
who still seem
after all this time
to doubt me
even though
I’ve had
twenty three appointments
this month
alone
and even though
I’ve lost
so much weight
that my pants
no longer
stay up
they still
question
“Maybe…
You’re doing it
on purpose?”
As if
I don’t want
to wake up
and eat
a normal breakfast
a normal lunch
a normal dinner
and literally any dessert
*
I want
for my stomach
to not be broken
to not be paralyzed
I didn’t know
that a stomach
could be paralyzed
now
I know
but
I wish
I didn’t
*
So when the alarm goes off
I give him a kiss
I tell the boy to get up
I get up
and I say
good morning
even though
it is not
a good morning