What Do You See, Nurse?

Thursday, 3rd April 2014

The following poem was reportedly written by a woman who died in a care of the elderly ward of Ashludie Hospital near Dundee, Scotland. It was found among her possessions on or around April 1974 so we are re-printing it in our newsletter to mark the 40 year anniversary.

The poem so impressed the staff at the time that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. Though it was addressed to the nurses who surrounded the woman in her last days, it cries for recognition of a common humanity...it could have been written to anybody in a caring role.

What do you see, nurse... what do you see?

are you thinking when you look at me:

‘A crabbed old woman, not very wise;

uncertain of habit with far-away eyes,

who dribbles 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 forever is losing a stocking or shoe.

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,

with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.

Is that what you're 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, 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 a love she'll meet.

A bride 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 together with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown up and 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 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 it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,

there is a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,

and now again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, 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, nurse, open and see,

not a crabbed old woman...look closer... see me!