On this particular day she
was crying. She had visited a woman who
was very alone, never married, in her last days of Alzheimers. Seeing her old friend this way was more than
she could bear. I remember her saying to
me that it was her prayer that she would never be that way, but she feared that
she would be. Even then, she had a
little glimpse into her future. She had
great compassion for those who were living in Nursing homes, no longer able to
care for themselves, especially those with Dementia – who had no voice.
A few days later she came
into the office with a poem she had found that had been written by a woman who
died in a geriatric ward of a hospital in England. This poem was found in the woman’s
possessions and was written in her last days.
Esther was so taken with the poem and it’s message, she asked me to
print it in our church newsletter.
I came across it today – I
share it with you as tears roll down my cheeks and onto my keyboard.
What do you see, nurse, what do you see?
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 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 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 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!
