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DET, The Medical Model and Me

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A long drawn out recovery demonstrating the next part of my Disability Equality Training Course as poetry

DET, The Medical Model and Me

I am impaired
Where do I go to get fixed?
Where can I be changed?
Where can I go to get right?
Where oh where do I start my search?

I don’t fit in
I want to fit
I want to be normal
I want to be like everybody else
Where do I go for this

I look at myself
I hate myself
Hate myself as others do
I take on the names
I look for change

I’ve got the names good
I’ve grown lists of labels
I’ve been made promises
Treatment, a fix, a cure
A benefit, a pension and car.

I take my pills
I pop them good
I tie myself to the apparatus
I’m good at following instructions
Hollered down a stethoscope

I bend, I twist
I follow rules
I do everything everyone
Ever said I should
Hollered from a stethoscope

And yet, all these years on
I’m still the same
Maybe a bit more damaged
With the side effects
Maybe a little more unwanted

Yeah. Maybe a little more unwanted
Maybe a little more damaged
Maybe less willing to try
To follow the governance
From the man in the white lab coat

In fact, I’m well fed up
Fed up of the same old same old
The interrogations, the questions
The finger pointing
Playing that same old blame game

Doctor, doctor. I’m not right
Never have been
Never will be
And yet I’ve gained all these names
And carry deep and deeper scars

And I’m tired. So weary,
Of beating myself up
Giving me a bad time
Being told I’m less
Deserve to have less life chances

Its time to realise
The words are bad
The treatment at best
Will only help me manage
And yes in spite of spite I deserve a life

And its time to understand
The years of lock up
In special school, in hospital
In the institutions I won’t allow to come again
Where I waste of my time, being a burden on my life

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Nick Lewis
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Right, Richard, leave all the junk behind