I came accross this poem...

[Retrieval]

...years ago while reading the local paper. I don't know why I read it, I'm not into poetry at all. I guess it was just boredom.

Anyway, this poem touched me (for want of a better phrase) and I just this minute remembered it. I looked it up on the Net and Bob's your uncle, fanny's your nanny, here it is.


This poem was found among the possessions of an elderly lady who died in the geriatric ward of a hospital. No information is available concerning her -- who she was or when she died.



See Me

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking, when you look at me --
A crabby 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 unresisting 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 looking at ME...
I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still;
As I rise 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 build a secure, happy home;
A woman of thirty, my young now grow 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 an old woman now and nature is cruel --
'Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body is crumbled, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where once I 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 I open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabby old woman, look closer, nurses -- see ME!




This poem was found among the possessions of an elderly lady who died in the geriatric ward of a hospital. No information is available concerning her -- who she was or when she died.

 

[wildsweetone]

That is an exceptionally beautiful and poignant poem. Thank you so much for sharing it. Perhaps it will be spread around the 'net and will remind a few who have forgotten, just why they became nurses in the beginning.

 

[FifthFlower]

I liked this poem. People tend to mess up the meter they start with in long poems like this. She kept the meter strong.

 

[sellthecookie]

back in college, during my hypochondriac years, id wander in hospitals and the different wards there, and be glad for the fact that im at least healthier than them, without really knowing what their lives are really like.

thanks for the poem.
i think i see her now too

 

[unapologetic]

It seems familiar to me, but I'm not sure why. Thanks for sharing it, though. I'm going to see my great aunt, 90 years old by the way, next weekend. I think she feels this way sometimes, which is why I try to write her letters on a regular basis.

 

[Liar]

Good find, Retrieval.

It says something that need to be said.

 

[_Lynn_]

I have seen this before, but there is so much truth in it. Having worked with seniors for many years, I know many of them felt just like this. Thank you for sharing.

 

[Retrieval]

Bumping this in light of Mothers Day, in certain parts of the world.
Is your mother in a home?

 

[MungoParkIII]

Googled the poem...

I googled the poem and found this:

When you see an old person!
Mattie was a very dear family friend. She had been a very bright 90 year old but her body was badly ravaged by time - she died in the Geriatric Ward of a hospital in Lanarkshire in Scotland. On one of our many visits she complained about being "spoken about" and very rarely "spoken to". She disliked being talked about as if she wasn't there!. She desperately wanted to be included in the conversation.

This poem was written by one of her nurses when she retired. It reflects what Mattie experienced and felt - what many old people feel - what many disabled people feel.

When you see an old person


The poem "See Me" then followed the note, so while the author of the poem is not identified, a bit more information is offered. I'm not sure of the accuracy of the information though. The site offered a link to another poem titled:

A Nurses reply - - by Liz Hogben

What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
Yes, we are thinking when looking at thee
We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss
But there's many of you and too few of us.

We would like far more time to sit by you and talk
To bath you and feed you and help you to walk
To hear of your lives and the things you have done
Your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son.

But time is against us, there's too much to do -
Patients too many and nurses too few
We grieve when we see you so sad and alone
With nobody near you, no friends of your own
We feel all your pain, and know of your fear
That nobody cares now your end is so near.

But nurses are people with feelings as well
And when we're together you'll often hear tell
Of the dearest old Gran in the very end bed
And the lovely old Dad and the things that he said
We speak with compassion and love, and feel sad
When we think of your lives and the joy that you've had.

When the time has arrived for you to depart
You leave us behind with an ache in our heart
When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care
There are other people, and we must be there
So please understand if we hurry and fuss
There are many of you and too few of us!!

Liz Hogben

MPIII