In the realm where nerves entwine with might, A tale unfolds of strength in fading light. Myasthenia Gravis, a name so grave, Where muscles weaken, courage to save.
From Greek, it echoes, a solemn song, "Gravis," it murmurs, a weakness lifelong. Autoimmune whispers, a misguided war, A dance of cells, a struggle to the core.
Acetylcholine receptors, a symphony untold, Attacked by the immune, a tale of old. Neurotransmitter's grace, lost in strife, Nerves and muscles, severed in life.
Muscles' first lament, the eyes do weep, Drooping lids in sadness, secrets to keep. A ballet of weakness in every glance, Ptosis, the sorrow, in a delicate dance.
Oh, the double vision, a shadowed waltz, Muscles in tandem, a fragmented exalt. Eyes that see two worlds, a mirrored plea, Diplopia's embrace, a blurred decree.
Words, once flowing, now a whispered hymn, Chewing and swallowing, a challenge grim. The face, a canvas of expressive grace, Masked by weakness, a silent embrace.
Fatigue, a silent storm, muscles tire, Repetitive tasks, a relentless pyre. Yet in the twilight of strength's demise, A spirit lingers, as hope implies.
No age immune to this relentless foe, Women, men, in life's ebb and flow. No cure, yet treatments carve a path, In the shadow's depth, a warrior's wrath.
Medications weave a thread of might, Enhancing signals, in the dimming light. Immunosuppression, a delicate plea, To calm the storm within, set the spirit free.
Surgery's embrace, the thymus removed, An offering to health, a challenge proved. Multidisciplinary dance, a healing tide, Neurologists and healers by the patient's side.
Variety reigns in this mystic play, Symptoms' kaleidoscope, a unique display. Adjustments, monitoring, a constant art, In the canvas of care, a beating heart.
Myasthenia Gravis, a journey unknown, In weakness, a resilience brightly shown. Amidst the struggle, the spirit persists, A poem of courage, in weakness, exists.
