The Silent Killer – Poem by Gwen Barnes

I dreamt about my mum today

a cruel disease took her away

it crept up upon her from behind

and slowly crushed synapses in her mind

I watched it happen

I couldn’t fight

I was powerless, as she was

in it’s might

I sometimes hear the latest news

the scientists have made

the next breakthrough

but this killer is still at large

it’s appetite is on turbocharge

its killing millions in it’s wake

it must be stopped

for humanity’s sake

So all I can do is hope and pray

that it doesn’t get me one day

there’s evidence to suggest it will

by then there may well be a pill

to cure this dreaded predator of the brain

to let old age have it’s longest reign

to enjoy this life, to be fit and well

until it’s time to bid my last farewell.

By Gwen Barnes

(in loving memory of my mum who passed away with Alzheimer’s in 2016)

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Powerful Poem Titled “They”

Once again, one of our community members writes a beautiful poem which points out just how much our words matter. Thank you Bob Savage!

A note from Bob Savage who is living with dementia –

Inspiration came from a recent national conference workshop that I attended where staff from a dementia care facility described what they are doing to improve communication with the people living in their facility. They used “THEY” at least 15 times when referring to the people living in their facility during their presentation. Each time they used the word “THEY” my stomach would cringe.

 THEY

By Bob Savage

 Who are these people who after one word we call them THEY

Did they have any choice as to why we call them THEY

Sometimes just one word (DEMENTIA) is why their THEY

Is a person any different after Dementia Diagnosed as THEY

We still love, hate, think, enjoy, cry, be depressed after THEY

We still love our family, friends, have enemies after THEY

We still love movies, parties, vacations, traveling after THEY

We still have emotional upsets, anger, frustrations after THEY

We do not like the loss of independence after THEY

We do not like the loss of social contact after THEY

We do not like people deciding and speaking for us after THEY

We do not like being a burden to those we love after THEY

We like to continue to speak for ourselves after our THEY

We like to be involved in all our decisions after our THEY

We like to set up new social contacts others after our THEY

We like to be accepted in our communities after our THEY

© of Bob Savage Living with Dementia 2018

If you would like to submit your poetry about dementia and caregiving make sure to include: The title of the piece Your by-line including your name as the author of the piece and any background or contact information you would like to share. Contact us  

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Poem Regarding Dementia: Time Lost

Time Lost

Another Beautiful Poem

Submitted By A Community Member

Time Lost

By Sandy Cannon

A crestfallen look beholds her face

The life of her mind now wrapped up in lace

Bright smiles once captured are now fleeting and few

Her indifference grows stronger, as her prayers fill the pew

Words once spoken fall silent from her lips

Her captor steals her thoughts and robs her of bliss

A world yet to travel with opportunities so vast

Is held hostage by her mind and are now dreams of the past

Loved ones are devoted and keep vigil for her care

Unable to arrest this disease that so dares

Dares to be bold, dares to be brash

And forces us to mourn our loss before the ash

We take solace in knowing that her fear will surrender

To a place deep inside, that she will no longer remember

Let’s find a cure….

My name is Sandy Cannon and I live in St. Louis, MO.  My mother passed away in December, 2017, from dementia.  I am a volunteer for AFTD (The Association for Frontotemporal Degeneration).  I also work with the Alzheimer’s Association in St. Louis.  

Thank you  Sandy for sharing you poem with all of us!

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I’m Sorry – A Poem That Will Touch Your Heart

Another Beautiful Poem

Submitted By A Community Member

 

I’m Sorry

by Ciaara Abke

 

I see you as my granny

You see me as a stranger

My eyes turn to you with love

Your eyes turn to me in confusion

I’ve known you all my life

And you’ve only known me for some

I say your name

But you can’t recall mine

My love for you is endless

But yours is imprisoned

I’m sorry

Thank you so much for sharing your poem with us Ciaara. 

I think everyone can feel your pain and your love through your words.

Lori La Bey, Founder of Alzheimer’s Speaks

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A Poem Shares a Heartfelt Look at a Visit with Her Mother

 A Visit

By Cheryl Kempner

 

It’s just the beginning…

Three years in….

She knows my name.

She opens the door but does not lock it behind her.

She tries to find a place for the new picture I gave her.

She said she’d move things later.

I said let’s do it now.

It’s perfect she says.

She asks if we want a drink.

We say later.

We try to chat.. there’s little conversation.

She asks if we want a drink.

We say later.

She asks if we want a drink.

We say yes.

She tries to find the glasses.

She opens the cabinets.

One after another.

She finds the right one.

She gives me a glass.

She gets me water.

Her gait is off.

She walks slowly.

She’s young… only 75.

We sit at the table.

What’s new I ask.

Nothing she says.

Where’s your coloring.

I don’t know. I cleaned up.

The family room is spotless.

I like things organized she says.

Are you playing cards? Painting?

Playing tomorrow..good I say.

I don’t know if it’s true…

Do you want to see the pictures from our cruise I say.

Yes she says.

Let’s slide through the pictures on my phone.. are you bored yet?

No they are wonderful.

Did you have a good time.

Great I said.

How are you feeling.

She says I’m good.

You lost a lot of weight I said.

Yes she says.

What do u eat?

Eggs with… with…

I said tomatoes, cheese, spinach…

Give me a minute..

I say lox? I found it hidden in the side of the refrigerator.

She says yes, Nova.

She offers more snacks.

She takes chocolate.

Are you allowed to have it?

She says I can do what I want.

We sit again.

We look at more pictures .

Do you remember when we went to Venice?

She smiles.

Did you buy anything she asks.

Not much I said.

Some souvenirs.. I had an amazing time though.

She just holds her head in her hands and looks at my pictures. I know it’s enough.

She tells me they just came back from a trip… there was no trip.

She tells me dad left at 3:00 for cards.

I spoke with him at 530.

They were having dinner.

I know it’s enough.

She wants to change and watch tv.

I say maybe we will do this again next Thursday.

She says sure if she has no plans.

I say ok, lock the door.

We kiss goodbye.

Thank you for coming.

Lock the door.

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A CAREGIVER’S VALENTINE

          

A CAREGIVER’S VALENTINE

-Karen Brenner, Author of “You Say Goodbye and We Say Hello”  

                                              

We were impossibly young and so beautiful

When we met and fell in love.

You were the cool guy from the big city,

I was the shy small town girl.

 

I bring you photographs of those days long ago.

You look at me and smile and ask me who those people are.

I take your hand.

It is warm and strong in mine.

 

You don’t remember but you know that we belong together.

I tell you the stories of those two young people.

You listen intently and study their faces.

And look into my face with wonder in your eyes.

 

I have come to understand that it doesn’t matter

that you no longer remember who we were then.

It only matters that we can sit and hold hands

While I tell you stories of those two young lovers:

You and Me

 

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Poem – 56 Years

56 Years

 By Suzanne Chait-Magenheim, LCSW

(about my mother who died in 2010 written 10 days after my father’s funeral, 1995)

 

Lost in his big armchair

Like a little lost waif

Clutching his photo.

Forlorn and lost

Is that him at the door?

56 years.

Together.

She waits.

Is this a cruel joke?

Suddenly, an empty house

She heard the rabbi say

His name at the funeral

Hey, that’s Daddy’s name

She whispered to her daughter

That’s my husband’s name

She thought

Wait til I tell him.

Be quiet, it’s Daddy’s funeral,

Her daughter whispered back.

Oh, he’s dead.  I forgot.

She waits.

 

Doesn’t remember the hospital.

6 weeks they say….

I was with him…they say

I’m confused.  Memory’s not so good

anymore.

He died.  Daddy’s dead.

When’s he coming home?

56 years.

She waits.

 

The sweetest man who ever lived.

A jewel of a man, the rabbi said.

He’s all I know.

He’s the only one I ever liked,

I tell my daughter.

We had a wonderful love life,

I tell her.

But you dated a lot, her daughter said.

Oh, that didn’t mean anything.

Oh, you yelled at him all the time

Oh, that didn’t mean anything.

We were together.

That’s all that mattered.

56 years.

 

Where’s Daddy?

He died.

When?

10 days ago

That’s all?

She waits.

 

I don’t remember his being ill.

Oh, he sat in his chair and didn’t go out anymore

But we were happy just to be together.

We were supposed to grow old together.

He did, my daughter says.

No, no, it’s not possible.

He’ll come in the door.

56 years.

She waits.

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