In the chest, where whispers fade,
Lies a pain that none evade,
Pleurisy, its name so grim,
Makes each breath a weary hymn.
Inflamed pleura, thin and tight,
Wraps the lungs in fiery plight,
Sharp the sting with every breath,
Cough or sneeze can summon death.
One side aches, a ruthless fiend,
Short of breath, and fevered sheen,
Coughing echoes in the night,
Infections breed this painful blight.
Pneumonia’s grip, tuberculosis’ hand,
Lung cancer’s cruel, relentless brand,
Autoimmune in fierce embrace,
Rheumatoid’s unyielding trace.
Embolisms block the way,
Blood clots lead the lungs astray,
Trauma strikes with brutal force,
Pleurisy charts its painful course.
Pancreatitis, drugs unkind,
Inflame the pleura, bind and grind,
Yet through the pain, a hope appears,
Treatment soothes the aching years.
Antibiotics, healing balm,
Anti-inflammatories bring calm,
Pain relievers dull the sting,
Fluid drawn, relief they bring.
In the chest where whispers fade,
Lies a hope in treatments made,
Pleurisy, though pain it sends,
With care and time, the suffering ends.
