Helpless With Dementia
I was a victim of dementia
I could not remember recent things
Confined to a small lock down area
When I had a visitor, I was so happy
I can’t remember that I wasn’t a real mother to you
Or when I let others abuse and beat you too
I am now at the mercy of all others
Oh how I pray you forgave me too
You tried your best to take care of me
But I kept wandering off, only wanting to be free
You felt such guilt and cried many tears
When the doctor said you could no longer take care of me
I know you searched many nursing homes
To find that special place, that would care for me
A place of love, where i couldn’t roam
A place with nurses, where I’d be safe
You paced the floors and cried
Each time they sent me to the hospital
They would say I must haven fallen
They were convincing with their lies
Bruises on my face, they weren’t all falls
Violent patients abused me
I was at the mercy of all of them
Said they wouldn’t break elder laws
They had an excuse for everything
Blow after blow
You tried to stay most of the time
For you they put on a show
When you were there
They would paint my finger nails
And fix my hair
When you were gone I was tied to a chair
They took my dignity and self respect
They were paid by the hour, and didn’t care
Towards the end, they say I fell and broke my hip
Next week told I fell and broke my leg
Once a week I was at the emergency room
You always beat the ambulance there
The last hospital visit, I got a staph infection
The doctor said i was near the end
I couldn’t tell you what they did to me
Because I forgot so much
You stayed by my side until the end
Telling me you loved me, and softly singing hyms
The angels came for me one night
And ended all my pain
Please don’t cry for me anymore
I’ve been made whole again
I look down at you, and wish I could take the pain away
I’m in heaven now and this is where I must stay!
To all that have loved ones with dementia, please guard their care.
All nursing homes are not the way they seem. They will put on a show for you so they can make their blood money. They neglected and abused my mother. So I am her voice.
To my mother who did the best she knew how to.
poem by Donna Nimmo
Added by Poetry Lover
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