Insomnia (a poem)

Lying in my bed I stare at the ceiling,
although it is too dark to see the ceiling.
I feel pain. I have no pain meds.
Once I had them, but no more.

My Grandma Elvira had Diabetes.
“Not real Diabetes”, said my mother.
She had a blocked pancreas, no insulin.
Real enough to cause pain, to kill.

“She no longer feels joy”, said my mother sadly.
Grandpa John just smiled and brushed her long hair.
Lying in bed I remember: my pain started as a child.
No meds. for Grandma or for me way back then.

Grandma Elvira,
insomnia brought you to life for me tonight.
I carry your name and honor your life.
I will remember and practice your elusive joy.


@Trudy1, you have such a way with words. Both sadness and joy in your poem.


Thank you so much, Maureen!

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Thank you! I appreciate your kind words.[details=Summary]This text will be hidden[/details]

Beautiful! Hopefully you have since gotten some sleep :slight_smile: Was your grandmother type 2?

Hi VikaPlume. No I haven’t had much sleep yet. Maybe four hours last night. Soon! No, Grandma had gall stones; one blocked her pancreas so that she had no natural insulin at all. This was around 1940. Doctors had insulin then, but I don’t remember their ever giving Grandma any, ever. She died of a stroke two days after they did surgery to remove the gall stone, in her sixties. Grandpa lived to be around 90. Thanks for asking!

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