Stuck, and prodded and poked. Not a joke. Pin cushion for meds, for mistakes. For shift changes of wanting to help someone. Wanting to make the pain go away. EMT poking me three times on the way to the ER while time is a ticking. Time is a whipping my ass. Where’s a vein? Where’s your vein? We know you are in pain. Grabbing my beer belly and poking jelly sugar needle prick. With this quick stick. I don’t feel it anymore. You could poke me in the eyeball and I’d laugh about it, cry about it. Wonder why you all can’t take pride in your work, as the bells and machines chime all the way down the floor. Nurse. Nurse. I need my medication. Nurse. Nurse. I need to go to the potty and you’ve left me here for six hours without helping me get up as you have constantly pushed fluids into my cavity and it’s a darn travesty. With this stick… with this prick… I’m humiliated and my sense of humor is slowly drifting away.