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What do you think you see?
10 Answers
Now that winter is here, as grumpy or unreasonable or as vague as your elderly relatives and neighbours may appear to be (and I have some like that!), please keep an eye on them to make sure they're okay in the cold weather.
This poem was allegedly found on a scrap of paper in the bedside locker of an old lady shortly after she died in the geriatric ward of the Leicester Royal Infirmary. I hope you don't mind me sharing it with you. :o)
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU SEE NURSE
What do you think you see, nurse, what do you think you see?
Are you thinking when you look at me-
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes,
Who dribbled 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 is forever losing a stocking, a shoe,
Who unresisting or not lets you do, as you will
With pushing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you are 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 father and mother;
Brothers and sisters who love one and other;
A young 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 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 with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons now grown, will be gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn;
At fifty, once more babies play around 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.
My young are all too busy rearing young of their own
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.
I’m just an old woman now and nature is cruel,
‘Tis her jest to make old age look a fool.
The body crumbles, grace and vigour depart.
There is now a stone where once was my heart.
But inside this old body a young girl still dwells
And now again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I am loving and living all over again.
And I think of all the years all too few…gone too fast
And accept the stark fact that nothing will last
So, open your eyes, nurse, open and see
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see me!
This poem was allegedly found on a scrap of paper in the bedside locker of an old lady shortly after she died in the geriatric ward of the Leicester Royal Infirmary. I hope you don't mind me sharing it with you. :o)
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU SEE NURSE
What do you think you see, nurse, what do you think you see?
Are you thinking when you look at me-
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes,
Who dribbled 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 is forever losing a stocking, a shoe,
Who unresisting or not lets you do, as you will
With pushing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you are 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 father and mother;
Brothers and sisters who love one and other;
A young 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 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 with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons now grown, will be gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn;
At fifty, once more babies play around 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.
My young are all too busy rearing young of their own
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.
I’m just an old woman now and nature is cruel,
‘Tis her jest to make old age look a fool.
The body crumbles, grace and vigour depart.
There is now a stone where once was my heart.
But inside this old body a young girl still dwells
And now again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I am loving and living all over again.
And I think of all the years all too few…gone too fast
And accept the stark fact that nothing will last
So, open your eyes, nurse, open and see
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see me!
Answers
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Nurses Response.
What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
Yes, we are thinking when looking 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 by 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 childhood, your husband, your daughter, and your son.
But time is against us, there's 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 now 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.
What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
Yes, we are thinking when looking 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 by 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 childhood, your husband, your daughter, and your son.
But time is against us, there's 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 now 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.
Its actually a very strange thing working in a care home and it took me a while to realize it myself:
When I first went into this type of work (just 5 years ago) I thought I would be looking after "old people" I was so wrong. Im actually looking after people that have got old, does that make sense?
I learned this very soon after starting this work?
I see the same on many carers today that still haven't seen this that have been doing this work far longer than me.
I will try to explain. We have a gentleman at our home, with a moderate Dementia, he sits in his chair and rambles about nothing particular and make little sense, particular character, he just sits there with his arms folded and refuses to unfold his arms. We need to feed him his dinner but will sometimes feed himself his pudding, he is doubly incontinent, he cannot walk or stand, he is a huge tower of a man and only in his early 70s.
Carers will see this man for what he is now, that is all they can see!
Then I take them to his bedroom with the most amazing pictures around the walls, beautiful wooden carving. Then i ask them to look at the name on all of these beautiful works of art, Its the signature of this helpless man that sits all day and mentally is in a different world, on the beautiful chest of drawers that he made himself stand the photos of 4 beautiful daughter and his disabled Son.
This actually makes some carers stand and stare in amazement, it will sometimes bring tears to their eyes to think that this man: just few years ago was a perfectly normal gentleman with a lovely family and spent his retired years doing what he loved, creating the most beautiful pieces of art after retiring from his life as a cabinet maker.
When you see these people, its strange that sometimes we can kind of think that they have always been like this, and the reality is that most of them were no different than you and me just a few years ago.
When I first went into this type of work (just 5 years ago) I thought I would be looking after "old people" I was so wrong. Im actually looking after people that have got old, does that make sense?
I learned this very soon after starting this work?
I see the same on many carers today that still haven't seen this that have been doing this work far longer than me.
I will try to explain. We have a gentleman at our home, with a moderate Dementia, he sits in his chair and rambles about nothing particular and make little sense, particular character, he just sits there with his arms folded and refuses to unfold his arms. We need to feed him his dinner but will sometimes feed himself his pudding, he is doubly incontinent, he cannot walk or stand, he is a huge tower of a man and only in his early 70s.
Carers will see this man for what he is now, that is all they can see!
Then I take them to his bedroom with the most amazing pictures around the walls, beautiful wooden carving. Then i ask them to look at the name on all of these beautiful works of art, Its the signature of this helpless man that sits all day and mentally is in a different world, on the beautiful chest of drawers that he made himself stand the photos of 4 beautiful daughter and his disabled Son.
This actually makes some carers stand and stare in amazement, it will sometimes bring tears to their eyes to think that this man: just few years ago was a perfectly normal gentleman with a lovely family and spent his retired years doing what he loved, creating the most beautiful pieces of art after retiring from his life as a cabinet maker.
When you see these people, its strange that sometimes we can kind of think that they have always been like this, and the reality is that most of them were no different than you and me just a few years ago.
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