A poem for Dr. Moore

I like him,
I hate him,
I feel really mad.
I feel a better today than yesterday
but then I feel really sad.
Maybe I'm too tired,
maybe I'm in pain.
Oh what a world of medicine
It really wracks my brain.
A fistula, infliximab,
a really tiny pill,
injectable, detectable
you may get TB again
can I even learn it all?
I surely don't believe
They don't know me
I don't think
not any more than me
or how much time I cry
Will I have kids? a surgery?
will I die of cancer?
or will it be alright?