Cranky old man

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Microsoft Melbourne. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.


Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . . .What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A cranky 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 is 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.
It's 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.

But inside this old carcass . . . .. A young man 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 cranky old man . Look closer . . . . see . .. . . .... . ME!!
... .

 

Thanks for link Shiney
and a better title!

 

Thanks Lazydog, that's so poignant!

 

Thanks Lazydog, Great Stuff .

 

sad ....

there is a lady who lives in a carehome for mentally handicapped in my village ....

on some saturdays, I take the bus to the city to save on parking

she works as a volunteer in a charity shop .... everyone at the bustop ignores her even though she tries to make conversation

a few months back, I was early at the busstop, and sat next to her on the bench ...

all I can say is that she is highly intelligent ... speaks with a bit of difficulty, as she slurs her words .... but she seems to know all about the latest politics, the latest news, weather, etc and the most friendliest person I have met for a long time

sadly, she has a brain tumour, speaks freely about it and she stated to me that she is not afraid of dying, as we all die eventually ....

from what I gather, she was born with a difficult pregnancy, and her family dumped her into a care home when she was young and only visit her on rare occasions (she has a brother and a sister)

would love to invite her over for christmas day lunch, but not sure if it would be good as my kids are having all their friends over for a christmas BBQ ... not sure how the teenagers will react

but is on my list of things to do for the new year (perhaps a sunday lunch)

:(

 

And here is a reply from the nurses.................

What do we see, you ask, what do we see
Yes we are thinking when we look 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 with you and talk
To bathe 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 or son
But time is against us, there 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 no 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 old people and we must be there
So please understand if we hurry and fuss
There are many of you and too few of us.