The Essence of Aged Care

This poem was found in the belongings of an elderly woman who died in a nursing home in the UK.

It's one that I keep at the back of my mind to remind me that patients are people; first and foremost.

Many of my Aged Care patients have pictures lining the walls of their room, and I am constantly amazed at the stories that come with them - often detailing a rich and full life.

At times, when all you have in front of you is an elderly man or woman who can barely walk or even speak, it is hard to envision that in the place of weakness and clumsiness, there once had been strength and vitality.

This poem reminds me of two things regarding the elderly:
1. They've all been there from the very beginning
2. We'll all end up there at the very end

And, with that in mind, I hope you appreciate this beautiful poem as much as I do.

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What do you see, nurse; what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me?

A crabbit 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 or 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 move at your bidding; as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,
And brothers and sisters who love one another.

A 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 together with ties that forever should last.

At forty, my young ones have grown up and gone;
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.

At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knees,
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 busy rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love I have 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 vigor depart,
And there now is 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, nurse; open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman; look closer - See me.

~ Written by Phyllis McCormack ~