New face in my personal space 

You get the news… you have the RA blues. 

You needs meds or eventually you won’t be able to use your legs 

And hands 

And fingers 

And feet… and so you make sure everything about you  still remains on fleek.

You attend your clinics and get your meds. 

You meet new people,  some you  might even consider another “RA fucked up” friend.

You even like the nurse who pokes n prods you. She’s cool and even suffers right along side you. 

You talk shit and try to make this fucked situation fun but then one day you walk in on schedule and  guess what ?  She’s gone… 

Once again a new face in your personal space.  

Same damn questions and you no longer have the grace.

You’re bored and annoyed and feel like a fucking toy. 

You’re not research nor a guinea pig.  You’re a person, a human with some special needs.  There’s more to treatment then asking if I sneezed… I have a name not just an OHIP number or benefits.. *eye roll*  PLEASE….   but everywhere you turn… another new medical face is in your personal space… with  very bad breath.

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