Something I am very passionate about is the treatment of the elderly....so when I came across this poem it was only fitting it would touch a place within my heart. I believe in giving up my place in the grocery line for the older person behind me...or shovelling my elderly neighbour's driveway...helping them to the car with their groceries..or giving them my hand to cross the street. Eventually we will all see through the eyes of the elderly...because, one day, we will become the elderly. This poem was written by an elderly woman in the geriatric ward of Ashludie Hospital near Dunde, England. The poem was found among her possessions after she died. Although it was addressed to the nurses who cared for the woman in her last days, the message is a powerful lesson for us all. What do you see, nurse, what do you see? What are you thinking when you look at me - A crabbed old woman, not very wise, Uncertain of habit with far away 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 shoes, 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 move at your bidding, 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 a love she'll meet; A bride 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 build a secure, happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast, Bound together with ties that should last. At forty, my young sons have grown up and 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 an old woman now and nature is cruel. 'Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool. The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart. There is a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, And now again my bittered 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, nurse, open and see Not a crabbed old woman, Look closer - see me!
Comments
thank you for sharing this.
its something that makes me so sad when an elderly person start losing their memories, their "dignity", and their physical abilities. they,in all essence, are no longer themselves. I have seen it happen with one grandmother (who passed away about 7 years ago) and just recently with my husband's grandmother who passed away a few months ago. my husband's grandmother was a strong, fierce, hard-working woman who lived her last years in fear as she no longer knew anyone, she could barely move or do anything, she had no short term memory. another lady I have known all my life is now ravaged with alzeimers. she was practically a second mother to me. she was an incredible woman.
its just all so saddening what age brings. its very important to remember them for who they really are....with much love, compassion, and gentle grace.