My name is Mrs Brown and I’m getting on a bit

Also slightly worse for wear, I really must admit

Nothing works quite how it ought

So my doctor’s help is often sought

Every month the pharmacy, delivers lots of pills

The doctor says I need them to treat my many ills

Boxes of every shape and size

Pour from the bags before my eyes

Which ones to take and when and how

Is something I must ponder now?

The printing on the labels is so very small

I can scarcely make out any words at all

It’s teatime, so I know that a tablet’s due

But do I take the brown one or is it the blue?

To help me I was given an special tray

And my tablet boxes — were taken all away

Just pop out your tablets, they said — as if!

With arthritic fingers all swollen and stiff

It causes me such terrible strife

I attack the blisters with a knife

So then they sent in carers, four times every day

Just to pop the tablets out of that wretched tray

Then one day a carer said, “I’ve heard of something new

The Frail and Complex Patient Team, they’ll know what to do”

I told them my problems when they came to call

And they said they’d sort them — no trouble at all

To get tablets from trays they had just the job

And soon handed over a useful pill ‘bob’

They reviewed all my medicines, with a bit of a frown

And said, “let’s see if your doctor can cut this list down”

They call it optimisation — or some such fancy name

But if it means fewer tablets — then I’m certainly game

To do the deprescribing took some working out

But we teamed up together and sorted it out

At last I can manage my medicines and their pack

It’s wonderful to have my independence back.