I Am Still Bed Six: a Collection of Poetry
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I am still Bed Six: A Collection of Poetry and Poetry as Therapy and Poetry beyond Therapy Lindsay Emma Reid Submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy November 2015 Department of English Language, Literature and Linguistics Newcastle University i ii Abstract This collection of lyrical poetry is significantly inspired by personal experiences, particularly a diagnosis of Ankylosing Spondylitis, a chronic inflammatory arthritis and autoimmune condition. Issues such as hospitalisation, the power dynamics between doctors and patients, and managing both physical and emotional pain inform the writing. Highly specified form in the poetry serves to contain and organise powerful emotions using simple, epigrammatic language. The layout of the research mirrors the layout of the poetry. The researcher’s own experiences of finding therapeutic value in her own poetry writing led to the research element which explores how and why poetry writing works therapeutically and whether poetry is more effective than other forms of therapeutic writing. The specific benefits of poetry writing as therapy for those who have experienced emotional distress are explored in depth. The difference between poetry as therapy and poetry as art is also considered. A small scale research study was undertaken with service users at a local charity, who have experienced emotional distress. A qualitative, semi-structured interview design was used, which was then analysed using Interpretational Phenomenological Analysis. The findings suggest that poetry is a particularly useful form of therapeutic writing as poetry promotes successful processing of a traumatic event through the use of image and metaphor. The participants retained the distinction between their priority of expressing themselves honestly and a preoccupation with artistic endeavour. Stevie Smith and Julia Darling provide examples of poets who found therapeutic elements in the writing process. Some of their poems are analysed in depth and their views on poetry’s therapeutic effects are considered. Alongside this, the difference between poetry as therapy and poetry as art is explored. Research reveals that poetry as therapy prioritises self-expression and poetry as art prioritises artfulness, but the two are not completely distinct; rather, they lie on a spectrum. iii iv Acknowledgements I am grateful to so many people who have helped me in so many ways. I would particularly like to thank my grandparents who have been so generous with their support and encouragement. I am also very grateful to my family and friends who have spurred me on, lifted my spirits and borne with me during this time. I could not have asked for more conscientious and attentive supervisors: Professor Sean O’Brien, who has always encouraged and inspired me towards my very best, and Cynthia Fuller, who has been so reassuring and knowledgeable in the area of Writing and Health. Thank you. My thanks also go to Ellen Phethean who so kindly provided me with a wealth of information about Julia Darling. I would also like to thank the John McKie Elliot Trust who kindly supported me with a generous donation towards my studies. The support of my Disability Adviser, Anne Scott, and the assistance from Student Finance England has been invaluable. I am also very grateful to Amanda McBride from Keyfort. The many doctors who have helped to keep me healthy during this time have my gratitude, particularly Dr Katherine Tew who has helped me so much. Dr Tracy Thorne, thank you for everything. My thanks also go to Dr Matthew Grove whose care has always been exemplary. Finally, I would like to thank the local charity where I was able to carry out my research. Thank you Pat and Sue, for being so accommodating, and particularly Deborah, for all your help; I couldn’t have completed my research without you! My special thanks go to Anna, Beth and Claire whose bravery inspires and challenges me daily. Anna, Beth, Claire and Deborah; I have changed your names to keep you anonymous but you know who are are and I hope you know how grateful I am. v vi Contents Part One: ‘I am still Bed Six’ A Collection of Poetry……………………………... ix Part Two: Poetry as Therapy and Poetry beyond Therapy………………………… 65 Appendices…………………………………………………………………………. 155 Bibliography……………………………………………………………………….. 219 vii viii I am still Bed Six: A Collection of Poetry ix Contents: Part One I) Created for Sickness Because She Cared..………………………………………………………………... 1 I am Bed Six………………………………………………………………………... 3 Makeshift………………………………………………………………………....... 4 My Dark Guardians.………………………………………………………………... 5 Autoimmune………………………………………………………………………...7 General Anaesthetic………………………………………………………………... 8 Shipwrecked……………………………………………………………………….. 9 MRI……….………………………………………………………………………...10 Lines………………………………………………………………………………... 12 Conversation with Pain Specialists.....……………………………………………... 13 The Injection……………………..……………………………………………….... 15 Physiotherapy Group……………………………………………………………… 16 Rituals and Runes………………..………………………………………………… 17 Ankylosing Spondylitis: A Lesson...………………………………………………. 19 II) Tortured by your Ghost In This Place……………………………………………………………………….. 21 Hard-Hearted………………………………………………………………………. 22 Tortured……………………………………………………………………………. 23 Anger……………………………………………………………………………….. 24 The Way…………………………………………………………………………….25 The road I used to know……………………………………………………………. 26 Journey….………………………………………………………………………….. 27 January………….………………………………………………………………….. 28 The Dancer……………………………………………………………………….... 30 x Apologetic………………………………………………………………………….. 32 Unhealed Fracture…….……………………………………………………………. 33 In Sickness and in Health…………………………………………………………... 34 Rock-a-bye baby…………………………………………………………………... 35 Not My Mother….…………………………………………………………………. 36 Violin Lesson..……………………………………………………………………... 37 The Handmark..……………………………………………………………………. 38 III) So Many Words Interviewing Angela, who is homeless…………………………………………...... 40 Singing………...…………………………………………………………………… 41 Moon in the Water…...……...……………………………………………………... 42 Unravelling…..…………………………………………………………………….. 43 Human……………………………………………………………………………… 44 On looking up ‘lost’ in the Thesaurus……………………………………………… 45 Many-Worlds Theory………………………………………………………………. 46 Glorious……………………………………………………………………………. 47 Valentine…………………………………………………………………………... 48 Love Song..……………………………………………………………………….... 49 Not Unkind……………..………………………………………………………….. 51 IV) I Remember This Therapy…………………………………………………………………………….. 52 It Should Be Me…...……………………………………………………………….. 54 Your Touch………………………………………………………………………… 55 Exquisite………………..………………………………………………………….. 56 Costochondritis…………………………………………………………………….. 57 Stitches…………..…………………………………………………………………. 59 In Sickness…..……………………………………………………………………... 60 Leaving Words……………………………………………………………………...61 The Train Home……………………………………………………………………. 62 Studying Stars……………………………………………………………………… 63 xi Underground Map………………………………………………………………….. 64 xii I) Created for Sickness Because she cared She met me after my appointment. I was still dazed. She drove me to her favourite spot: An old lichen blotted churchyard Leaning away from A grey windswept church. She told me to sit down. We sat in bleak sunshine Among the sun-warmed graves. I brought a flask of tea She said Pressing a slice of fruitcake In my hand It will get worse I said There is no cure I said I’ll always be in pain I said And cried, My fruitcake crumbling In my shaking fingers. It’s never as bad as it seems She said Don’t give up She said 1 I’m here for you She said She patted my arm Then turned and walked away Around the corner of the church. She thought I could not hear her. When she returned She said nothing except Be strong. 2 I Am Bed Six I am bed six Apparently. Somewhere between My admittance to hospital And my release I have changed into A bed With starched sheets And locked wheels. I hear the nurses say Bed six needs Medication/blood taken Discharge papers (someday) I am bed six I feel nothing. But after long weeks pass, And I finally leave, Wheeled into the sunlight Across the hospital carpark With my white linen And iron legs Eager for my restoration I find that I am still bed six, Flat, awkward and Unwieldy, Created for sickness. 3 Makeshift I saw pain on my X-ray. The doctor showed me my neck Utterly straight, drawn tight By the muscles contracting With each burning wave. Yes, I said As I looked at the screen – Yes, I see it. (I see the sleepless nights The endless days, and the Muscles hardening, hardening Pulling the bones out of shape As they clench ever tighter.) And do you know why they do that? The doctor asked. He told me that my brain believed My neck was broken – My muscles were acting As a makeshift splint To keep everything in place. Yes, I said I understand – And I did Just as I know my silence Serves as a makeshift splint To keep everything in place – If I do not open my mouth Nothing will crumble or break. 4 My Dark Guardians My eye drops trickle a burning trail down the back of my throat. Amitriptyline makes my tongue numb. Codeine is very bitter. Oramorph is sickly sweet like roses or syrup - then the chemicals catch at the base of my tongue. When the warmth spreads through my body I am floating away into the serene gardens of the dispossessed. Oxycodone is metallic. Bitter as iron and blood tasting of lampposts and tar and men digging the road. The gate to pain clangs shut dragging me into wakefulness I am grateful For my hazy existence Among the ranks of The medicated – 5 I am grateful for My dark guardians who Wake me and put me to sleep - Sometimes, though, Stirring with the taste of Chemical