Tuesday, October 7, 2014


On October 1, the Government of Canada proudly celebrates National Seniors Day, recognizing the contributions of Canadian seniors. By staying active, informed and engaged seniors across Canada are demonstrating to all Canadians what it means to age well. Reliable Home Care Agency is committed to care for seniors and people with disability.
“The following poem was found among the personal possessions of an elderly woman who had died in a nursing home in Scotland. Her words remind us of our obligations to understand, comfort and maximize quality of life in elderly patients.” — from the introduction to Dr. Michael A. Jenike’s book entitled Geriatric Psychiatry and reported by David M. Weinberger, Ph.D., licensed psychologist in his remarks at the Mid-Winter Psychology convention, February 21–24, 1991.

“Not A Crabbit Old Woman Wrote This”

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking when you look at me—
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of health, with far-away eyes,
who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice,
“I do wish youd 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 days to fill.
Is that what you’re thinking,
is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurses,
you’re not 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 I’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 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 years, 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, nurses, open and see
Not a crabbit old woman, look close—see ME!

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