This poem was found among the possessions of an old lady who died in the geriatric ward of Ashludie Hospital, near Dundee.
What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking when you are looking at me;
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habits, 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 do 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 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 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 to 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 vigour depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
And now and again my battered heart swells,
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life all over again.
I think of the years all too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark facts that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer - see ME.
This poem was found in our community news. I think it speaks for itself.
3 comments:
What do we see,you ask what do we see
We may seem to hard when we hurry and fuss
But there's to many of you and to few of us.
We would like far more time to sit with 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 chilhoods, your husbands, your daughters and sons
But time is against us, and there's much to do.
Patients to many and nurses to few
We grieve when we see you sad and alone
with nobody near you,no friends of your own
We feel or your pain and know all your fears
When nobody comes and your end is so near
But nurses are people with feelings aswell
And when were together your often hear tell
of dearest old gran in the very end bed
and the lovely old dad and the things that he said
we speak with compasion and love and feel sad when we think of the lives 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 with no more worry and care
there are other old people and we must be there
so please understand when we hurry and fuss
there are many of you and to few of us.
I work in oncology. Many years ago i was given the poem a crabbit old woman whilst working on a geriatric ward
and this response which was written by a nurse whos name i do not know. I have kept these poems for the last 23 years. i was surprised not to find this answer to the crabbit old woman so i thought i would post it. the reason i looked up this poem today was to print them for the nusing staff, in the home where my nan died today, thankyou for your post
The author was Phyllis McCormack. Although poem may have been found in the locker of a former patient in Ashludie hospital, it was first published in the newsletter at Sunnyside hospital in Montrose, not far off. See "Crabbit Old Woman" in Wikipedia for more details.
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