Fascio Scapulo Humeral Muscular Dystrophy

F.S.H.D. 

I have a little illness

And it knocks me about you see

I find it just a bit harder now

That I have this F.S.H.D.

Four little letters to tell me why

My shoulders droop

My calves are sore

And my smile is all awry

Purse you lips she said to me

And I tried the best I could

Now can you whistle

I puffed my cheeks

And pursed my lips

And blew quite hard you see

There you go your symptoms show

You have F.S.H.M.D.

A diagnosis I had at last

But, it sounded like a whistle to me

I love the sound those letters make

And I often wonder why

Of this grand lottery that I would win

When cash seems to me a better prize

My legs feel like lead all day

My neck and shoulders too

It took a while to diagnose

It grinds away my energy

And saps at my strength too

It’s fair to say that F.S.H.M.D.

Is not a gift I’d want for you.

Today you’ll see me leaning on a stick

Soon a walker for my need

And then a chair with two big wheels

Cause I’ll need them for speed

Till then I have to some things to say

While my mind’s still strong

I’ll share with you a story or a song

I have a little illness

And it knocks me about you see

I find it just a bit harder now

That I have this F.S.H.M.D.

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