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Posts from the ‘Diabetes Poetry’ Category

Unbreak my panc. (another parody)

(in homeage to the Toni Braxton’s Un-break My Heart, and if Melissa Lee would just let loose with her version of this, that would be awesome.)


Un-Break My Panc

You left me when I was small
Didn’t make insulin at all
Come back and bring back my islets
Come and take these syringes away.
I need panc to work beta now
The nights are so unkind
Bring back those nights when I slept all the way through

Unbreak my panc!
Please make insulin again.
Undo this hurt you caused
When you stopped that big job
And walked out of my life
Undo diabeeeeetes.
(I cried a couple nights.)
Unbreak my panc.
My panc.

Take back that sad word “disease”
And make insulin, would you please?
Don’t leave me here with these fears
Come and bolus like you used to
I can’t recall when you left
Life has still been kind
But panc is so cruel without insulin inside me

Unbreak my panc!
Make insulin again.
Undo this pain in the ass
That you brought to my world
When you took that long nap
I promise you thiiiiiis
I’ll stop all of this whiiiiine
Unbreak my panc.
My panc.

Unbreak my panc.
Oh baby.
Come back and say you’ll bolus.
Unbreak my panc.
Without you I will still go oooon … ooooooon!
I’ll still go on.
(Whoa!)

Help! (a rotten parody)

swedish fish(to the tune of the Beatles Help!)

Help! I need some sugar
Help! I’ll take any sugar.
Help! You know I need a snack
Heeeelp!

When I was younger, so much younger than today
I made my insulin and that was that each day
But now these days are gone and my islets are uncured
Now I find I need a snack, Swedish fish are much preferred

Help me if you can, I’m feeling strange
And I think my blood glucose is out of range
Help me get my numbers un-deranged
Won’t you please, please help me?

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways
My independence didn’t vanish, I’m just dazed.
Every now and then I just feel a little low
I know that those Swedish fish can help me up and go.

When I was younger, so much younger than today
I never needed anybody’s help in any way
But now I need a hand, it happens now and then.
And I’m grateful for community that steps up again and again.

Thanks for all your help, I’m feeling fine
It just took a few minutes, but I’m aligned.
Thanks for understanding while I whined
Thanks for help, helping me.

A Valentine For My Pancreas.

(A post from the past, but still relevant, as my pancreas remains lazy.)

Oh rotting, feeble pancreas of mine,
Won’t you be my Valentine?
Won’t you wake from your long sleep
And make some insulin, you creep?

What makes you sit, all shaped like a wiener,
Lazy and dull, with a pompous demeanor?
What makes it okay, that for your enjoyment
You’ve spent twenty plus years filing unemployment?

We need to start over; we need to be friends.
We need this whole type 1 diabetes to end.
I’m tired of shots and I’m sick of the lows,
So I think we should talk about ending this row.
I could use a break, my corn-cob-shaped friend.
I’d love to have ‘old age’ listed as my end.
I think that your time off has drawn to a close.
I’d like working islets, and plenty of those.

How ’bout it, old pal? Care to start working?
Care to start minding duties you’ve been shirking?
I promise to be an attentive best friend,
I’ll thank you each morning and as the day ends.
I won’t take for granted the hormone you make
And I’ll forgive you for the last 25 years’ mistake.

I’ve brought you some flowers and a Border’s gift card,
In hopes that when I bring milkshakes to the yard
You’ll be so inclined to jump start all those islets
Who’ve been holding their breath for so long that they’re violet.

So what do you say, oh pancreas of mine?
Won’t you be my Valentine?

(Celebrate Valentine’s Day with your rotten old pancreas by sparing a rose.)

Pizza (A Christmas Poem).

T’was the night before Christmas and all tinsel’s in,
Not a creature was stirring or making insulin.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that my islet cells soon would be there.
My children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of pizza boxes filled me with dread.
I took out my pen, assessed the amount
And settled my brain to complete the carb count.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I went with a fright
(And on the chair arm almost ripped out my pump site).
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Highlighted the … thing? there at rest down below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
But a miniature Panc, looking all cavalier.
He looked like a corn cob, or maybe a penis.
I knew that he saw me, despite distance between us.

More rapid than eagles my insults they came,
As I whistled and shouted and called out his name.
“You stupid old pancreas! Where have you been?
It’s been 30 dumb years since I’ve seen you again.
From my childhood years to now raising my own,
Diabetes is the only life that I’ve known!
And now you waltz back, sitting there on my lawn
Expecting me to give hugs or to kiss or to fawn …”

But while I was ranting, the Panc, he just flew
Straight to the shed roof while I shouted, “Go screw!”
He stood there, so regal, and then, the rogue mutt,
He pulled down his pants and he showed me his butt.
And it became clear, as I fumed and I seethed,
That he came here to fight me, is what I believed.
So I steeled myself there, as the doorknob did rattle
And my pancreas came in my house to do battle.

He took out his betas, I whipped out a spoon
We stalked one another in my living room
His eyes, how they narrowed, his islets, how lazy!
(I was glad Chris was out ‘cause I’m sure this looked crazy.)
His droll little mouth was all knitted with rage
As he jabbed with his right, then drown dropped the steel cage.
It was just me and him, in a fight to the pain
“If you won’t make insulin, I’ll go full hurricane!”

We fought there for hours, just me and that thing,
I had a black eye and he pulled his hamstring.
Until finally – finally – I landed the punch
That sent the panc reeling and hurt a whole bunch.
While nursing his knee and cradling his arm,
My pancreas said, in efforts to disarm,
“You’ve bested me for decades, and I owe you a prize.
So grab that there pen and now open your eyes.
There’s a carb calculation, a quest for the ages,
And in minutes you’ll know it, so mark up those pages.
You’ve won, fair and square, and I owe you some solace.
So Kerri, here it is: the coveted Pizza Bolus.

He spat out some numbers and fine ratios
And I scrambled to write down his mathematical prose.
By the time he was done, our fight fences were mended.
I would remain the Lead Panc while his ass just pretended.
And he reached out his hand to shake, sealing the deal
I extended mine back, not knowing how to feel.
But I heard him exclaim, as he limped out of sight,
“You’ve won this round, Kerri. Enjoy pizza tonight!!”

Sweet Little Lancet.

Sweet little lancet
You are so damn tough.
I keep you until
All your edges are rough,
Until your sharp peak
Becomes dull and harpoons.
Oh sweet little lancet,
I will change you soon.

Sweet little lancet,
You deploy with a thud.
It can take several tries
To get you to draw blood.
And at that point, you’d think,
I’d wise up and swap out.
But sweet little lancet,
You should have your doubts.

Sometimes I forget
I have a vast collection.
No need to reuse!
I’m inviting infection.
I should change you out
Before you get strange,
But it takes a reminder
(Like when the clocks change.)

Sweet little lancet,
I respect what you do.
My supply closet’s stashed
With an army of you.
But in the event
There’s a cure that’s clever,
I’ll repurpose your ass;
I’ll have thumbtacks forever.

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