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I wake up again, third day this week, wet and sore.

My poor wife sleeps on, blissfully unaware.

I sit on the edge of the bed ashamed and want to cry.

Tomorrow night, I will stay up and not sleep.

But I can’t talk to anyone.

 

All I drink now is strong black coffee, to keep me awake

whilst at work on patrol, I look for toilets and more coffee.

It’s on my mind all the time, every moment of every day.

I think I am paranoid, surely this can’t go on.

But I can’t talk to anyone.

 

I knew it would happen soon, why now in front of all.

Embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated, degraded I have to go on.

A friend at work buys me some adult ‘pull-ups’.

 I stayed in the toilet ashamed.  I feel despair as I put them on.

But I still can’t talk to anyone.

 

My wife tells me to see my doctor.

This will be the third time I have tried.

Each before, I have cancelled, too embarrassed to talk.

With myself, I now despise

because I still can’t talk to anyone.

 

Finally with a female doctor, I was able to talk.

All the checks done, an urologist appointment was made.

It would be eight to twelve weeks as I was not going to die.

Mentally, I already had done

because I still can’t talk to anyone.

 

With a possible twelve-week wait, I still awake wet every night.

I am afraid to go out now, and want to shed tears all the time. 

I hear others talk openly without shame about diabetes, dementia and all.

But it’s ok, I am not going to die…… I already have done.

But I can’t talk to anyone.
















 


 



























   















































(10.08.2010)




Reproduced by kind permission of Tim Harvey.

10.08.2015






#top

BUT I CAN’T TALK TO ANYONE


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