I have a voice you know, although you attempt to still it,
treat my so-called illness, fill me up with little pills
potted in your little cups you hand out as if a gift.
Silent you are in your contempt of me your control of me.
So will I take your little pills, like hell I will,
you can stuff them up your arse.
Sumana at Poets United asks us to consider Weapons and writes: Weapons are varied; in fact anything can be turned into a weapon if the user wills. One can Find one or Be one. Now what do you say?
It got me to thinking of my time working in a care home, a mental health unit, and how by merely being there, residents were disempowered.
It was within the residents rights to refuse their medication, but this almost always done so as a protest against a perceived problem and the resident would be angry and would not discuss it.
I would say the usual: Okay ‘John’ I can see you’re angry, but refusing your meds won’t hurt me, but might hurt you. I would be told to “F*ck off.” I would then advise I would ask once more and if refused, would keep the meds until the next round –of course making sure if the meds were accepted then, I would remove any that ‘doubled’ the next dose.
My colleagues would moan when a resident refused meds as if somehow refusal affected their power (over others) the ‘authority’ they felt was theirs. I always totally understood the refusal for this was the only real power the residents had.
“NO!” was their weapon. It is sad that they felt they needed it.
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Peter Ziegler