| Author | Message | ||
| Maryann |
This is dedicated to Denise. For those that don't know Denise, she IS the nurse who DOES see the person inside the body of an older person or an invalid. It is truly amazing to witness. Her work is draining emotionally and at times thankless. A Poem to Remember This could be any of us one day....at point worth remembering and one to take to heart as we look upon the elderly. When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had left nothing of value. Then the nurses, going through her possessions, found this poem. Its quality so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on the poem. A Poem What do you see, nurses, what do you see, what are you thinking when you're looking at me? A crabby old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes. Who dribbles her food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!" Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a stocking or shoe. Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill. Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I use at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another. A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, dreaming that soon, now, a lover she'll meet. A bride soon at twenty -- my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep. At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, who need me to guide and a secure happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to each other with ties that should last. At forty my young sons have grown and are gone, but my man's beside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty, once more babies play round my knee, again we know children, my loved one and me. Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead; I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own, and I think of the years and the love that I've known. I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel; 'tis jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, there is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living life over again. I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, nurses, open and see, not a crabby old woman; look closer -- see ME!! ____________________________________________________________________________ | ||
| Denisegilmore |
Dear Maryann, Thank you so much for bringing that poem to light. I have that poem from my years past locked in a box in my closet. God Bless the elderly. God help us see them. Once in a while, I see that little girl in Arleta. She can be so funny and young in her attitude. She plays with my cat, laughs at my bird and tells me stories of her boyfriend and what he said or did today. This is so special to me. I love her more than words can say. Then there are others here too, that, like children, they play. They are excited when they accomplish something in their age that most would think impossible. There is teasing one another, and skipping in the halls here. An amazing life I have. There is jealousy among the elderly too. This was something that was new for me to experience seeing. Sometimes, when their boyfriends or girlfriends are talking a little to much to someone else, there is this jealousy like a teen. I witness pratical jokes on each other too. Some of these practical jokers are 90+ years old. I am blessed to be here and one of the family. God is Good. The wisdom that comes with age is not anything you could buy. They lived it, know it, earned it, learned it and share it. Wisdom is priceless. I'm blessed to be here. God Bless you Maryann, Denise |
