First comes the ache, and then the weight,
Though unseen, it burns like fate.
Likewise, in shoulders, hips, and spine,
Polymyositis grows in time.
Furthermore, the skin may show,
Red or purple, an undertow,
For dermatomyositis leaves its trace,
A rash across the hands and face.
Onward yet to hands that shake,
As Inclusion Body Myositis makes
Its slow advance, with weakening grace,
In older bones it finds its place.
Juvenile Myositis then,
Grips the young, and grips again;
It steals the joy of play and run,
Replacing it with pain begun.
Meanwhile, doctors seek to trace,
The enzymes high in muscle space,
Or watch the EMG’s display,
Recording weakness day by day.
Thus with tests, they search the bone,
And through biopsies they’re shown,
The slow progression, mark by mark,
Of myositis’ fiery spark.
Though treatments come—IVs, relief—
While pain persists, though moments brief,
Yet early care may ease the flame,
To fight the swelling in its name.
In the end, despite the strain,
One finds the courage to remain;
With strength inside and friends around,
Even muscles’ ache is bound.
