I’m laid in bed for the sixth day,

I’m still too tired so here I lay.

Starting at the ceiling, feeling alone

The only company I have is my phone

No one calls, no one texts

I feel so desperate each time I check

I can hear my daughter playing in the other room,

I hope I can play with her really soon.

The doctors still don’t have a diagnosis

So I still don’t know the prognosis

They said my intestine adhesed to my abdominal wall

The thought of which makes me shrink until I’m small.

For years and years I’ve been asking for help,

Every time they muttered “it’s IBS”, I’d whelp.

The girl who cried wolf, was always my fear,

I’ve said it too much and it’s like now they don’t hear.

“It’s not the same, as my endometriosis pain,”

But everything I said was said in vain.

“It feels like someone is tweeze-ring my appendix,

And the nagging pain is relentless.”

“I’m not concerned, so you don’t need to worry,

Call back in a week, there is no hurry”.

It had already been years, so what was the point,

It just blended in with the pain in each joint.

Now I find out a blockage could have been fatal,

But my cries for help were treated as fable.

Will they listen now? If it happens again?

Will they now care when I’m in pain?

Maybe they’ll read this when I’m already dead,

Would they still say it’s all in my head?