Ill Informed

by Yvonne Forbes-Wright

Overview

In December 2007 Yvonne Forbes-Wright had complete kidney failure. She was put on life support systems for twelve days where machines were keeping her alive. After the hospital saved her life she devoted the last 3 and a half years of her life to writing a book that would make recovering patients laugh. She wanted to give something back to the hospital (KING GEORGES HOSPITAL) that saved her life. Almost all the poems in this book were written while she was an inpatient at the KING GEORGES HOSPITAL in London England. Some will make you laugh and others will make you cry. I had many laughs and many cries on my many visits to the Hospital. Im sure you will enjoy this book.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781452098555
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	12/07/2010
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	120
File size:	311 KB

About the Author

Yvonne Forbes-Wright was born in Aberdeen Scotland near the North Sea. She learned to play the piano by age 8.She is a graduate of the Aberdeen Academy of music. My wife is Music and English Major. She played Piano, Drums. Flute and was a bag pipe Major in Scotland. Overall a very fun person to be with. She also was a Music and English teacher for 25 years. She became a full time poet after that and won awards both here in the United States and in the United Kingdom. She has travelled extensively to many countries which I believe gave her a broader prospective on life and enabled her to write good poems

Read an Excerpt

III Informed

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By Yvonne Forbes-Wright

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Yvonne Forbes-Wright
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-9854-8

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Chapter One

    The SAS

    The SAS came to visit me today, secretive and soldiers they are not
    Kind and caring people, good listening ears they have not
    I was very touched when Simon said a prayer for me; it helped as I felt
    that no-one cared
    Sylvia gave me a pretty 'Get Well' card as well signed by Ursula, herself
    and Simon the Laird
    I bet he'd look pretty good in a kilt, that's what he reminds me of being
    a tall and pretty sturdy lad
    But would it immediately turn into a natural womanising cad?
    His dainty co-worker Sylvia is sweet and when she appeared it brought
    a tear to my eye
    I didn't think I'd ever see either of them again, this so much pain I was
    expecting to die
    Thank goodness we don't know what's around the corner, I reckon I'm
    already going around the bend
    I'm just lying here thinking to myself myself, will all this pain and
    misfortune ever end?


    What's SAS

    Simon and Sylvia came to visit me today, it cheered me up to no end
    Being here in hospital uninformed, unwell it's driving me round the
    bend
    They are two very special people, one tall the other kinda small
    Useful informers, real good listeners and I've seen no bad temper at
    all
    I respect their caring nature, how they give you the time of day
    Two special hearts I think I'm very fortunate to have such friends nay
    I say
    I hope we'll always keep in touch, no matter where I am
    God or fate I believe lead the path to our meeting, it wasn't an encounter
    on a tram
    Silver makes me think of silver, the name Simon brings to the mind
    Paul
    I'm a lover of Paul Simon's music, silver my favourite metal, does it
    sound if I'm craving at all?
    No, I'm just expressing my thoughts and feelings; in verse it's easier
    for me
    It's either that or via music, playing songs like 'Let It Be'
    So the letters SAS can stand for many things, sensitive and sweet lust
    like friends
    The typical type to help build strength and give support, right u until
    and after your illness ends
    I really do look on them as special and sincere, guaranteed to smile that
    may entice a tear
    No doubt they've also had problems in one way or another
    Trying to help to help and listen to your problems to them doesn't seem
    to be a bother


    From The Soul

    Poetry is food from the soul
    Being stored in the heart and mind
    Varying from sad expensive thoughts
    But some also loving, very kind
    We often find it hard to say what we want
    So we store them in our hurting store
    I express my feelings via poetry and music
    Who could really want more?
    Of course I've declared my feelings to people
    But they just can't always be there
    Sadly I've lost many through bereavement
    When you loved, not easy to bear
    Many they say forgive and forget
    But that just can't always be
    Some actions really can't be forgiven
    Many times it has happened to me


    Words From Bed 23

    Draculas Daughter came to get me again
    I've lost control of how many times
    This stay in the hospital has been rather depressing
    Everyday kind of like another of life's climbs
    Needless, needless, needless too many
    My arms are ridden with holes
    Oh my hand as well, I forgot about them
    I wish I was out there, working on my goals
    It would be really nice, to get a pussy cat again
    To keep me company day and specially at night
    When I get home I'll see if Apache is still there
    I think he's a stray that wouldn't put a fight
    I'm still feeling a bit weak, but mentally strong
    I guess I'll swallow my pride, go with the flow
    Try to make the best use of the next life drama
    I'm anxious to know which way the story will go
    I've loved and lost, lost and loved
    Given away much of my heart
    I truly didn't believe my relationship would fail
    Not for a moment did I think he would part
    I pray my bone heal and won't take too long
    Six weeks endurance, so the medical experts say
    Force myself to rest, that I really must do
    Tolerant what seem to be everlasting days?


    Spending V days at King Georges

    I'm spending this year's Valentines Day at what I call the King George
    Motel
    Bacon and eggs for breakfast? No, that's something you can't really
    smell
    I'll just enjoy my Bran Flakes and maybe some bread and Jam
    Look forward to getting home and cooking an omelette made of cheese
    and ham
    With a nice hot piece of toast and marg. With a fresh brewed cup of
    tea
    By then I hope to be feeling sprightlier with a healed head mouth and
    knee
    On a Sunday I look forward to slow pleasant walks in the park
    Making sure I don't stay out too late and avoid getting lost in the dark
    Many in here are bearing their pains well and wishing each other Happy
    Valentines Day
    A card arriving, an unexpected visit could contribute to make it an
    easier stay
    But we must give up hope; try to live to the full
    Deal with problems day by day, try to just be calm and act cool


      Up?

    Where do all our souls go?
    Up to Heaven and Hell?
    Or do they simply fly away?
    Do we hide in a prison cell?
    Maybe we just go camping
    Off to a tent in Kent
    Or perhaps we end up where we belong
    In a place that's simply meant
    Maybe all go dancing
    Way up the sky
    Floating all around and round
    On the day we die
    I think I'll just jump in the sea whilst shouting all, all over
    While thinking why, why, why?


    Would You be?

    I am patiently waiting to be taken away
    Will anyone come and say good-bye?
    More and more over i am beginning to believe
    Someone, something up there decides when we die
    None of us actually totally depart
    Whether we are a vagrant, a call girl or Prince
    We may leave some creation or a blatant memoir
    Or an impression of which there is no need to convince
    Maybe there will be a photo with a note on the back
    Saying exactly who, what, where
    Who knows we may have a choice or reincarnation
    Would you be a human, a monkey, a bird or a bear?
    You never know you may just come back as yourself
    That would mean that you again would be you!
    Or perhaps would like to be the girl next door?
    Or the famous old woman who lived in a shoe


    Another Return Visit

    Back at King George suffering yet once again
    This agony, body problems causing bad, bad pain
    I've aged about ten years in these past few days
    Fate, Future, Fortune well who really says?
    Or ca we decided what happens, I really don't think so
    I wish my legs would work and I could get up an go, go, go
    The great escape could be re-filmed; I'd be a TV star
    But knowing my luck, I'd end up in jail with the first ever Ilford Hospital
    Bar
    Then perhaps I'd pop up North, hide on a Greyhound bus
    Say bye, bye to the good old South and go missing without a fuss
    Or else I could borrow a motor bike, drive like a raging man
    Avoid getting caught for speeding and getting a poets motorbike ban
    Would that make me a wanted criminal, naughty woman out on the
    loose?
    At Christmas I could star into panto, go out disguised as a goose
    Or if I'm planning on pretending to be a mad motorbike freak
    I could decide just to make a pretty clean and become a special disguised
    star in Greek


    Morning Hospital Blues

    Who would want to be a Doctor?
    Not on your Nelly not me
    Patient ones, polite ones
    Snappy ones and happy ones
    All sorts here did I see
    Some seem very confident
    Others a little insecure
    One thought I looked a little better
    Another not surprised I still felt pretty poor
    The tedious life here doesn't help much
    Getting to sleep is usually hard
    Too many needles and bloomin' blood tests
    I wish those injections could be barred
    Milky concoctions to settle your stomach
    X-rays and scams looking for clues
    They discovered a fracture in my rib cage
    No wonder I've been in pain and got the blues


    Down, Not Quite Out

    Here I am in a B & B
    So yes down, but not quite out
    Unwell and broke, uncared for so sad
    Dressed without a doubt
    I have son yes only one
    But I'm thinking the last mile of life's begun
    I was helped put in here
    Got me off the streets
    So a bed, kitchen, shower
    Are definitely treats
    Benches and woodland, the graveyard was scary
    I've slept with many strangers, how many hairy?
    In the past I've taught students
    They learned about English and sound
    Music being my life was taken
    Misfortune follows me around
    Bagpipes, the piano, the flute and drums
    I taught really every type from bright sparks to burns
    So now I have a home to get out of
    Will I ever bounce back?
    Or end up a pile of bones in the sack


    If You're Lucky

    Have a nightmare if you're lucky
    You know, it may make you feel pretty plucky
    What if you were the star of the show?
    A glamourous murderess, always on the go
    That real Swazi hairdo, wild yet pink
    Making those handsome ones look, think wink
    Is it the fact they like the black?
    Or because your dress doesn't have a back
    Perhaps they appear with hair so blue
    Eyes maybe they have more than two
    Three or four, maybe even five
    Is he even still alive?
    Would there be worms to walk in instead of grass?
    Then you'd be sleeping in the chamber of gas


    Now It Seems

    Now it seems I'm suffering from minor insanity,
    I'm wondering actually where of the humanity
    In hospital over a month up until now
    I seen to be gathering frets some how
    The Doctors today have given me some kind of hope,
    Back at the abode I know I have to cope
    I'm anxious to get familiar with my discovered gift,
    Sitting typing out many word, gives me a lift
    I hope my determination is here to stay,
    To achieve what we want, we must work, hope and pray
    By work, I don' mean labouring much harder working a life
    Doing daily tasks working at our chosen vacation, be it perhaps an artist
    or simply a wife
    Thankfully many opt for medical professions, trying to make people
    well
    I'm glad we don't know what tomorrow holds and as for those who do,
    please don't tell
    It's strange how Staff methods vary so vastly from one ward to the
    other
    Perhaps if I can visit home sometimes soon cheer me up to see my son
    and maybe my brother
    Life is what you make it so they say, well only partially do I think that'[s
    right
    I think it is harder for many who in emotional and physical ways it
    makes much more of a fight


    Slip Away

    I wish at this moment, I could simply slip away
    Slip to where your brain my stay
    Well actually misfortune much illness and pain
    I've not much desire to see morning again
    On reading this rhyme you may be asking why?
    But in fact I think all my unhappiness I think will soon die
    I'm sitting here in pain wondering is it really true?
    Will there be life after death for me and or you?
    Maybe if we believe, we'll be angels in the sky
    And if there is a Heaven, amongst clouds we will fly
    On the other hand if we spend our time in sin
    We may burn down in Hell and end in the bin
    Have you ever thought that re-incarnation exists?
    And if we've been good, we can choose from lists
    If so, I
    I'll choose to come back as a black cat
    There I will be a lucky one, and that will be that I


    I haven't A Clue

    Why am I in hospital?
    I haven't a clue
    Perhaps I was big dog
    Or a possessed runaway ewe
    Maybe I fell from a very tall wall
    While trying to reach the stars
    Or aiming to visit some unknown beings
    Way out there in Mars
    Did some hooligan bang me on the head?
    Then run away with my purse?
    Or was I in an accident?
    Something much, much worse?
    Had I just an unexpected fit
    As has been in the past
    Is this a mystery or memory lost?
    Something that's going to last?
    I haven't a clue, have you?


    Nice Indian Medical Ears

    A spicy Indian curry
    Unwell here in the hospital, to get home I'm in a hurry
    I also met a real nice Indian nurse
    We had a little chat
    Talking about rice and lentils, Things
    Spices, this and that
    It kind of makes you stay more bearable
    When a friendly voice is heard
    Hospital visits can be so stressful especially
    If you're referred
    No home cooking and no familiar bed, Medication
    Can be stressful it has to be said
    Especially when you're not sure, how long you'll
    Be in that hospital bed
    But we must grin and bear it and sties
    Try something new
    Listen to what the medical army advices
    After all, they're trying to save you
    I could never do that job
    Not in a million years
    They have my respect and attention
    Advice? I'm all ears


    Good morning Monday

    Good morning Monday, it looks like I'm still here' I'm trying to think of
    another word to rhyme with here, other than beer
    I suppose I could use either mere or tear
    The way I'm feeling is making me think of tear
    Isn't it sad when your thoughts are affected when you're ill?
    And every day you have to feed yourself yet another pill
    Now they're trying again and again they want yet more blood
    I tried to eat some food last night, all I could think of was mud
    This hospital life really does get you down
    Seeing the needles approaching brings on another frown
    In bed lying wishing you were roaming down town
    Or far away in Florida trying to get all nice and brown
    I must get out, find the will to live try to get my sanity back
    Create a good new routine and get life back on track
    Perhaps I'll cook a belated Valentines meal, all dressed up in black
    I can't wait to relax in my lover's arms, affection is what I lack


    What's The Reason?

    I'm wondering if any of these blood thirsty Doctors are relatives of that
    famous count
    This time during my visit t too four attempts to get any amount
    My thin, thin veins are hard to inject, one time it look the ninth
    attempt
    As far as bloomin' blood tests are concerned, I wish I was fully
    exempt
    I've had many stabs, too many times, my body is full of holes
    I've been sliced up like a piece of meat, lost quite a few souls
    Cuts leaving scars the stress gets too much
    Now I need the help of a crutch
    But I may just hang in there, perhaps last another season
    Many people think and I end to agree, we're all here for a reason


    Hectic Here In Hospital

    It's Eleven thirty and hectic already
    The work here in the hospital is always steady
    Cuts and bruises, bumps and breaks
    Special diets, no sign of beef steaks
    Some vegetables, diabetics and even halal
    At least this visits I've found a pal in another Scottish gal
    I met a nice lady from Glasgow; she was in the opposite bed
    It transpired we both know an ex colleague of mine
    Duncan is his name
    We also had a we chat about food, our tastes appear much the same
    I'll be sad to leave, in some ways, after all I met a Scot
    I'm not even sure the tests they've done have showed exactly what
    I've got


    13th, Lucky For Some

    Here we are again, it's almost seven
    I'm in a hospital bed wishing it was night time and eleven
    Then perhaps I'd get some sleep, forget my cares and woes
    Maybe have a little weep to help me dose off, I guess that's the way it
    goes
    I feel a little down; no actually I'm pretty pretty sad
    Bearing these pains and trying to be strong, but difficult not to feel
    this bad
    Isn't it hard when you think your days are numbered, It's time to grieve
    leaving those we love
    My minds getting curiously nosey and frustrated, wondering is anything
    waiting for me above?
    But then again, perhaps because I've been naughty I'll simply burn
    down in hell
    Does it make a difference if we fell sorry; is there actually anyone who
    can tell?
    This rest, care, and understand will maybe give me a few extra days
    Both physical and mental agony, will they ever leave me, who actually
    says?
    Or is life actually simpler, depends how I choose to live my life
    Can't wait to get home and get busy working cooking and trying to be
    a good wife
    Here I'm a lost writing an essay, jotting feelings down
    I pray later on to get a visit, I'll try to be cheery and happy, try not to
    weep for frown


    Fate's no Game

    This morning I turned who pages at once
    Writing woeful words yet appearing a dunce
    At least I'm still being productive, putting words on paper
    When these words go down in print don't want to cause any caper
    I'm starting to believe my medical stories could make many people
    laugh

    At least I'm reasonably comfortable here with King Georges staff
    No music, no telley, no cuddles at night
    It's lonely sleeping here, not even a goodnight kiss in sight
    So I'm feeling pretty glum feeling sorry for myself

    Will I see my love on Valentines Day or will he leave me on the shelf?
    I'm wondering if he's being naughty, free out there on the loose
    Munching burgers like they're going out of style, getting as plump as
    a goose

    We all need affection in one way or another
    Given with feeling none reluctant, without any bother
    Fate can often deal us a pretty nasty hand
    No hearts or diamond cards, not a chance to play very grand

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from III Informed by Yvonne Forbes-Wright Copyright © 2010 by Yvonne Forbes-Wright. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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