Many Christmas’s ago a patient of mine presented me with this Poem.
It became one of my cherished gifts and reminders of who we are as people and particularly patients.
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 who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do 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 around 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 the 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!!
—Author Unknown
Dear Mary Ann, Thanks for sharing… there is so much truth in this poem! My mom of 91 still has health and vigor in the body, but her mind is coming untethered. “Normal memory loss, normal aging,” said the doctor a year or so ago. Even months ago… then, “no this is not normal aging, but dementia. It has gone from mild dementia to moderate dementia.” Mom, often, still has clarity and the cognitive skills that served her quick and intelligent mind appear for long periods of time. Until suddenly, that ability slips away. She doesn’t recognize her daughter or her home and that ferocious will and purpose that carried her through the challenges and successes of life dissolves into confusion and fear. The distant past is closer now and more real than the present or even the more recent past. And we all remind ourselves to see the beautiful, loving warrior mom that raised us up and pushed us on. But it is not easy sometimes. Not easy.
Thanks for all you do!
Mary Ann,
You always find the perfect message that keeps our eyes and hearts open to seeing others as they are, not as they appear to be. This poem is another example of your insight into our humanity.
Thank You.
Have a blessed holiday season yourself.
Paticia