The 10-year-old version of me
would have found it confusing
and constantly would have asked
over and over to the Doctor
what most of their big words meant?

The 17-year-old me would 
have spat on the floor in disgust 
and argued with them
over everything they said
when they told me I was Diabetic. 

The 30-year-old version of me
in-between constant bursts of
depression and anxiety 
would have nodded his head
and said little else. 

At 39 I was in reality 
was sat there
shocked unable to speak 
screaming silently inside
unable to say what I felt. 

At 43, I understood the medication
yelling at me in a colour-coded language
in a sly torment 
lined up one after the other 
and how I pulled myself back.


At 45, I remember the shock
from 39 right to 43
of how insulin controlled my life
and how it changed everything
completely overnight,

twisting everything 
inside out
so everything overnight
turned into a detective novel
on a revolving basis, 

doing myself in words
even when I reached 50
constantly
just to keep myself going 
right from the beginning. 

From the new poetry book 'From the Diabetic Ward' - the book can be purchased at: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0BVTS2MKL/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_taft_p1_i0

A Video of this piece can be streamed at:

https://www.tiktok.com/@andynwriter/video/7202341139859442950?lang=en

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