This is a great poem written by a man living in a nursing home in Platte, Nebraska. A friend forwarded it to me, and it I thought it was such a great example of how often we overlook the great wealth of experience and history that our residents come into our homes with.
This is also a great resource for staff training, and a great example of a man’s perception of ageism. I would ask everyone that works in a nursing home to take 5 minutes out of their day to read this man’s poem. Apparently, he hid the poem among his personal belongings in his room, and it wasn’t until after his death that nurses found it while cleaning out the room.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses?. . . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old man,. . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . . with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his 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 sock 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 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 boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . . a lover he’ll meet ..
A groom 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 man 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 woman’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 wife is now 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 man . .. . . . . . and nature is cruel.
‘Tis jest to make old age. . . . . look like a 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 guy 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, people . . . . . . . . open and see…
Not a crabby old man . Look closer . . . see . . . . . . . . ME!!
- Poem by “Anonymous”
- Justin Zarb, ADPC
Image by jelene (Flickr)
