Pain and a poem

A few days ago I was feeling more than usually miserable. The mess in my head had been compounded by an aching wrist that no amount of ibuprefen seemed to contain. I had lately seen a doctor for the pain and been informed that an appointment to see a neurologist would be made for me. Upon repeated calls to the hospital to remind them that I had not yet received an appointment I was advised that the process is as follows: first I have to make the waiting list for assessment of seriousness, then my case is given a priority rating, then I am informed of said priority rating, then I get an appointment.

Weeks later I finally managed to get hold of someone who could tell me that I had been given a rating: Semi-urgent. She then helpfully informed me that within 6 months of receiving the letter apprising me of this (which I have yet to get) I would be called and then I could make an appointment. Genius. I count myself extremely fortunate since I have a lovely GP who unblinkingly wrote me a script for copious quantities of diclophenac (which is actually managing the pain on a day-to-day level), because I have not been deemed non serious enough to not make the list at all (which happens with depressing frequency), because I am a student with access to free medical services through school, because I have parents who'd be able to advise me (both docs) as well as bail me out.

All of this meant that I could channel my frustration into creating my first piece of spoken word poetry. It isn't particularly good, but it was certainly quite cathartic. And I enjoyed the emotional ranting in blank verse that spoken word is open to as well as the intellectual geekiness of playing with words. I've never written poetry before (for good reasons... i can't!) so it was quite strange and exciting to be doing anything of the kind. Some day I shall be brave enough to put it up for other people to see. Not today.

PS: I know I'm supposed to feel grateful that we have a public health system at all. And that I'm not as badly off as others. I find it difficult to feel any such thing. To begin with it's hard for me to feel grateful for something that to me feels like should be mine by right. Not something that is being generously bestowed on me. I also find the thought that others are worse off than I am more enraging than comforting or sobering. I know there are people who are suffering and are in acute pain. I'm not pretending that my pain is equivalent or even on the same scale as theirs... but this knowledge makes me angry at the world and at people for making it what it is. Not grateful. Not remotely.