Oh Bathroom Floor, Save Me From This Spoonie Life

Monday morning was a bad morning. It’s not uncommon when living with a chronic illness, but Monday was worse than most.

Thirty seconds after stepping into the shower, intense nausea started to overwhelm. It was all I could do to stay upright long enough to finish the shower. Then down to the bathroom floor I slumped while I waited for the spinning and sweating to stop.

While I was confined to that cold, uncomfortable place, this silly poem started to develop in my head. As a spoonie, you have to find humor where you can. I hope you enjoy.

Oh Bathroom Floor, Save Me From This Spoonie Life

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Oh bathroom floor, my trusted friend, save me from this life. Hold me with your cold, damp touch, and make me feel alive.

Oh bathroom floor, I dream of you, while standing in the shower. Just moments more of sudsy tears, then to your arms I’ll bow.

Oh bathroom floor, you give me strength and help me to endure. When nausea flirts and spinning starts, you ease the troubled sea.

Oh bathroom floor, with scattered rugs, you hold my feet secure. When weakness comes and muscles fail, you catch my clumsy fall.

Oh bathroom floor, your dreary view helps me to relax. With nothing more than porcelain shows, my blurry vision calms.

Oh bathroom floor, you catch my sweat though I’m already cold. As I dry, a shaking mess, you help me lay unfurled.

Oh bathroom floor, I see your faults, the dust behind your bowl. A footprint near, some towels heaped, and clothes kicked near the door.

Oh bathroom floor, your flaws I know, each damaged tile I see. Yet every mark makes me love you more as you keep my world in tow.

Oh bathroom floor, you know me best as you see what is real. No words you speak, no clues betrayed, when even tears appear.

Oh bathroom floor, the spinning slows, as I find a way to sit. Your gentle hug has rescued me, perhaps I can now stand.

Oh bathroom floor, I must leave you, my work demands my time. Through my day, I’ll think of you and know I’ll see you soon.

Oh bathroom floor, if nothing else, next morning we will meet. The earth will spin and tilt too much until we find our groove.

Oh bathroom floor, rest for now, your job today is done. I’ll tend to you as soon I can to show my depth of love.



This poem was first published on Medium on September 23, 2019

Sometimes the only way to survive a chronic illness is to find the humor in it. This silly poem describes a typical morning with illness. | #poem #poetry #spoonie #SpeakingBipolar
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