The following poem is from a collection of 41 written by me to try describing Huntington’s Disease (HD). This poem describes one of the most horrific aspects of HD.
Every person born to someone carrying the faulty gene has a 50% chance of inheriting it. Because HD cannot skip generations, if your child becomes symptomatic (Juvenile HD) it can only have got it from you/the other parent.
The Generations
She stands above her restless child,
His body thrashing out.
He’s tired and thin, just bone and skin,
She hears him scream and shout.
Her heart is breaking every time,
She goes into his room.
What should have been a happy time,
Has been replaced with gloom.
Just how much time do they still have?
Too little time she’s sure.
She knows his fate because of this,
She’s seen it once before.
The gene is passing down the line,
She now has come to learn.
She watched her mum die, now her child,
And next will be her turn.
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