written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Thursday 24 August 2023

Pills and Others

When I was six or seven I was given a bottle of little torpedo shaped medication and told to swallow two with water, the bottle was stuffed with them and I had no idea these were to save my life and would be a lifetimes dedication. Make sure you take the full course was the mantra instilled and back then that seemed an enormous number to take at a time particularly when you are so young. They were antibiotics of course, I think the first in my case were Streptomycin. I remember being interested in the names as I progressed to other variations but the link was to the earlier discovery of penicillin. 

I will be forever grateful to both Alexander Fleming and Selman Waksman, who it was said was the sole discoverer of Streptomyces in the 1940’s and who won the Nobel Prize for Physiology/Medicine in 1952.In fact the antibiotic synthesised by the soil organism Streptomyces griseus was discovered by American biochemists Albert Schatz and Elizabeth Bugie in 1943. The drug acts by interfering with the ability of a microorganism to synthesise several proteins. Streptomycin is used to treat bacterial infections, particularly TB.
 

I was probably a bit of a Guinea pig and given far more per infection than I would be today. The courses are streamlined now and come in pill form. Then, my mother worried about my ingesting masses of plastic, decided to cut the capsules in two, empty powder onto a teaspoon and expect me to swallow. I can remember that clagging dry mass in my throat now and I was “happy” when allowed to swallow the plastic again. 

My mother’s story was the tragic one. She had various ailments and took all kinds of pills and medicines, the GP visiting the house produced a syringe and after injecting her with Adrenalin, I think, left it on the mantelpiece, to give me a permanent fear of needles. I was woken one glorious May Sunday by my Vice Principal while I was at College to be told she had died. She was only fifty two, I was poleaxed as stupidly this hadn’t crossed my mind. Whether the drugs gave her longer life or shortened it will never be known, but it has given me a horror of casual and unnecessary pill taking and I avoid it when I can. 


Some 
sort of 
inheritance 

You have left your pot 

drugs that kept you going,
 
in the reaches of my mind.
 
I drag it out, strip off the lid
 
witness again the chemists’ 

dreamscape of colours 

it takes to carry a life 
yours and mine. 


Thanks for reading ,Cynthia

6 comments:

Steve Rowland said...

A fine read Cynthia. Yes, pills (and others) have transformed millions of lives, mostly for the better I feel, though I'm sure obscene profits get made as well by the pharma giants in particular. Sad to read about the way in which you lost your mother so young. The illustrations are great (especially the spoonful) and I think your half-a pill pot shaped poem works well.

Brett Cooper said...

I like your poem very much. 👍

Valerie Marchant said...

Yes in terms of medicine and health services I wouldn't want to live in any age other than the present one. I often wonder why drugs companies make their pills so colourful. They look like sweets some of them. It's a great poem, that line about how pills carry a life in particular.

Cynthia said...

Thanks for your comments

Miriam Fife said...

Sad the part about your mother. I liked your poem.

terry quinn said...

I, for one, am very grateful for antibiotics as they have (touch wood) just cured a painful gum infection.

The story about your mother was indeed tragic.

Excellent poem and pictures. Can I have the orange one.