Another hill…

I am finding that the dehydration caused by one of the medicines I take for my breathing is very difficult to cope with. I once forgot my bottle of fluids that I take around with me, and my friend had to stop at a garage to buy me some juice. My mouth had become so dry that my words were slurring. My tongue was sticking to the sides and roof of my mouth.

Once I have a drink to hand, I am fine. I can do readings of my poetry with no problem except overcoming my shyness. It means I have to make sure that I always have a drink wherever I am, whether writing, reading, or traveling. It’s not a major thing unless I forget.

Forgetting is something I do a lot. It is becoming a nuisance. It is again due my medication. I forget to post letters, get shopping, do something nice for myself, even wash my hair. I seem to wake in the morning having completely forgotten things I had planned the evening before. And notes don’t work for me. I have written myself notes and forgotten to read them.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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