Perchance to dream
Perchance to Dream
This line has been dancing my mind as the world around me feels increasingly like an illusion.
It is strange to go from months of study
with gentle buffers guiding you along
as syllabi speed around you in circles
until finally it stops and all lies still.
Then it’s all you can do just to remain upright.
Sleep has claimed most of these days.
“Narcolepsy” is a word doctors have spoken whispers
Not wanting responsibility of a diagnostic code
Where simply doffing their illegible signature could
Establish the medical necessity of care.
That’s our world, burdened
With need, the necessity to prove
that every pill, each shot
Every bandaid that is placed in a hospital
can be filed and insured
As a medical necessity.
I wonder what the code is that validates
the medical necessity of remaining alive
So back to “perchance to dream” - yes
This is parceled from soliloquy on death,
The spoke question of what happens after
we “shed this mortal coil”
But that’s not my monologue
Harder than death for me is staying alive
Fighting for meds
to keep my body from decomposing from the inside
…again.
I spend hours on the phone fighting for every need
against underpaid overworked compassion-fatigued admins
who wield the only power they can
of toying with my medical necessity.
And to not fight is to suffer.
But fighting is exhausting – so I wake up not realizing I’d fallen asleep.
See, my body has discovered that it can exit the chat
That when the fight is overwhelming
it can simply “play dead”
Which, when waking,
makes it a lot harder to “play alive”
I come-to confused
After business hours
With a useless to-do list
And facing a once-kindling fire
Whose embers now question the purpose of being alight
Being… a light. A guide.
An old fashioned camping torch that helps you venture forward
Lightweight and ready at your side
There to help you with your next step.
That’s what I wanted.
What I want to be.
A helper. A light.
Not a creature whose body defaults to primal defenses
With a brain forced memorize pharmacies’ back-end coding
Just to reach an equilibrium with
medical necessity.
I think the slog in my morning coffee
is that of grief because I think I know
that this respite is a temporary shelter, and not a home.
I came here fleeing with hopes of another world,
From one of hiding to one in full bloom,
But, of course, there are never shortcuts.
As always, the cost of stability is
is too high to reach alone.
So I press on,
Even if “the sight is dismal”
Spending what finances and energy I can
To clutch, even for a tiny bit longer,
The chance to dream for something more.