Two poems from the heartfelt poetry collection by Emily Watson

The poems below were first published on the author’s website ‘Rooted in Love’

Introduction

Whose truth?

the truth
the one they write in the medical notes
is full of harsh words
words with power
which tunnel
like mines
waiting for the next professional
to detonate
exploding into
assumptions
and prejudices
and feelings
words which make them nervous
or angry
or dismissive
before they have even met you

words like disordered
unstable
dysregulated
and the worst
manipulative

then there is the truth they write
with gentler words
trauma-informed, they call it
still words which define
and open your past
wide
to be stared at
with compassion
or pity

words like resilient
survivor
wounded
fragile

those who love you
have a different truth
words
born of relationship
with
who you show them
and what they want
to believe

words like inspirational
compassionate
honest
loyal.

the truth inside you does not have words
she speaks in sensations
in the rushing of the storm in your ears
the torrent bearing you away
the whirlwind breaking your limbs
and the pain
so much pain
yours
and the world’s
tumbling in through
your porous self

if she could speak
her words might be
passion
anguish
terror
remorse
atonement

*

I wonder if,
I hope,
there is a deeper truth
that maybe now
you can meet
perhaps even
The Truth

she does not need words
she knows you
and holds you
But if she did, I think they would be
rest
enough
wholeness
peace

The virtual MDT meeting

Carers are welcome
They say
You are so important
A corner
Of the triangle of care.
We will work with you
And your person
To help them
Help themselves.

We will have the professionals only meeting first
Of course
And you won’t be at that.
You
And the patient
Can join at the end
Once we’ve made the decisions.
You can join by teams if you like?

No I say
I’d rather meet the team
I’ll come in
And be with my lover
As partners
Not patient and carer.
I’ll be with her for this
Which feels like
The passing of a sentence.

We’ll be in the blue room
A woman says.
I think she is a nurse.
She has a kind face
Perhaps we will be ok.

She leads me to a room
Just wait here
We’ll be a few moments.
Pale blue walls
With inspirational quotes
“You can do anything, if you put your mind to it”
Which isn’t true
Of course.

The windows are frosted but not soundproof
Outside
In the enclosed yard
Someone is getting upset.
Her voice rises.
Another voice, calm, repetitive
But an edge of irritation.

Are they being kind to you?
Will they patronise you when you get upset?

After too long
The nurse comes back
With you
Your hand is shaking
You don’t hug me
But sit next to me
Carefully leaving an inch between our thighs.

The laptop is on the table
The nurse clicks some buttons
Suddenly
A dozen heads and shoulders
Two inches high.
They are on mute
Each one controls their own voice.
We are not muted
The nurse controls our voice.
She adjusts the screen
And we fill another tiny square.

Hello.
Good to meet you.
We’ll go round and introduce ourselves.
I’m the consultant psychiatrist
I’ll be in charge
I’m the OT
I’m the physio
I’m the junior dr. I’m just here to learn
I’m standing in for the named nurse
Sorry he can’t be here
I’m from the community team
Sorry the worker you know is off sick
But I’ve read your notes
I know all about you.
I’m the note taker
I’m the ward manager
I’m from the bed management team.

So now you know us all
Is there anything you
As her carer
want to ask?

Yes
I have a thousand questions
Will you be kind to her?
The wounded frightened astonishing person shaking next to me
Can you fix her
When she believes herself unfixable?
Will you listen to her story
And respect it?
What is your plan?

And how long
Will I be alone for?
How long until my lover
Is herself again?
When will she come back to me
And make me laugh like she always did.
When will we walk in the hills
Giggling at the dog
Rolling in mud.
When will I cook her dinner
And see that smile?

A dozen heads
Two inches high.
Looking in slightly different directions.
Looking at the screen
Not the camera.
Looking at us, maybe.
Or perhaps reading emails
Or scrolling the news
With the meeting minimised
Both on their screen
And in their priorities.

No, I say.
No questions.

I try to hold your hand
But you pull it away.
I’ll show you out
The kind nurse says
And locks the door behind me.

****

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