If ever you’re stricken with Polymyalgia

You’ll look back on your life

With a sigh of nostalgia

When you walked without effort

To run you were able

And you had enough oomph

To dance on a table.

While doctors all search for a right diagnosis

You suffer, you’re prey to a gloomy prognosis

When you’re aching all over in every direction

It’s hard not to give way to grim introspection.

You’re punctured with needles to give lots of blood

That’s filtered and tested and runs in a flood

In spite of it all, you really don’t know

If it’s Lupus, Ross River, or dreaded Parvo.

When you’ve finally come to the end of your tether

At last there’s a break, and not just in the weather.

They’ve tracked down the problem, and found the right pill-

And just when you thought you were over the hill-

The relief is enormous, the pain disappears

And you know you’ll be good for another few years.