by Anonymous


The disease took over your body
like some fearless army,
winning every battle at every joint,
until one huge fire burned.
You could hardly move.

I remember the splints, the weights,
pulling on your legs like a huge burden on your life.
I remember the wheelchair which you tried so hard to avoid
but to which you had to surrender
when you ached so much and Dad could no longer carry you.

After only a couple of years
the hospital became like a second home to you;
the doctors and nurses became friends,
the drugs and injections a daily routine.
And yet you still fought.

I look at you now and see
a strong, confident girl.
She can walk, run, swim, play.
She continues to laugh.

After sixteen years no-one would even know
the soldiers are still in there,
So what happened to that once so persistent army?
Was it some faithful spirit, the medical intervention,
good fortune or hard work?
Was it the never-ending care and love from everyone close?
But you fought and it retreated.



I found this work easier to do than I initially thought it would be. I wrote about my sister's arthritis, and therefore I didn't find it difficult to focus on the emotional identification and write freely about it. This is the first subject that occurred to me because I have seen her as both the patient and an individual person. From my perspective I am able to see the holistic view of her and her illness.

I wrote it in the form of a poem because I felt I could be more expressive and separate the description of when she was really ill, from the improvement to how she is now.

Whole Person Care