Second Hand Dementia
poem by:
William Brochinsky
Written
on Jan 25, 2014
Tell me. Is THIS all, just an Atripla dream? Vivid recall of nocturnal screams, lingering traces of incontinence in my nares, physical toll of caregiving, on a body, a mind, spirit, a soul. The loss of choice. The erosion of a heart. Desire for release. Waiting for the end. Some days, are as easy as pie. Some days, she prays,†God, please let me die.†The costs of longevity. Healing scarified skin, MRSA invades my home. The stench of C-Diff, too. Her sensorial losses, overload for me. Dreams to nightmares, then back to dreams. When did swallowing become a risk? Monitoring viscosities. Attempting to undo, a kyphotic stance. Parkinson’s crept in. Shuffling, shuffling. Rigid and stiff. S- for scoliosis. The self-proclaimed, “Crooked Ladyâ€. My home, where skill is love and love is skill. My life ,my dreams on hold. My reality
Tags: sad, love, inspirational, imagery,
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Janet Vick commented:
This has the ring of my mother who is suffering from Alzheimer's and hasn't know me for the last year. Take care. Janet
Christopher Russon
commented on Mar 03, 2018 at 3:42pm
Both my parants suffered Dementia they weren't themselves.
And saddly a friend I used to know is now going threw the early stages of Dementia
He is just 70 years of age.and your right they have good days and bad days.excellent poem.
Frank Hornby .
commented on Dec 19, 2018 at 12:52pm
I know how a relative suffered this terrible illness....a sad but excellent poem William......
