I cannot change the TV channel with the telephone.
I cannot answer the remote.
I cannot do more than one thing at a time, and can barely do one thing.
I am capable of having extremely odd dreams, which are drawn extensively and exclusively from things going on in my little corner of the world.
I am not capable of picking up a book without thumbing through it. Pick up a dozen books? Must thumb through all of them.
A cat laying on my bed means that I must lay by him and carry on a conversation.
Nursing homes won't let you visit during a flu epidemic.
Even my best laid plans get thwarted.
Playing board games on line with my adult children is more fun than it was playing board games with them when they were young. No arguements about who cleans up. No throwing things. No blood drawn.
That reminds me, I haven't had my November blood drawn yet.
I am not always hot. Today, I am very cold.
I never cry. Except today.
Because of this:
This is what youth must figure out:
Girls, love, and living.
The having, the not having,
The spending and giving,
And the meloncholy time of not knowing.
This is what age must learn about:
The ABC of dying.
The going, yet not going,
The loving and leaving,
And the unbearable knowing and knowing.
- E.B. White
(Did you know that E.B. White had Alzheimer's? He did.)
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5 comments:
Wow, what and awesome and moving poem...sums it all up, doesn't it?
If it makes you feel any better, I tried to take a pie out of the oven without the benefit of a hot pad...ouch.
What a sad poem... And no, I did not know that EB White had Alzheimers.....
Life marches on in spite of us. My mothers two sisters died of alzheimers/dementia complications, my mother died before her mind left her. I know that will probably be my end also, so we just better enjoy it while we can whether thumbing thru a book or talking to our beloved animals. You inspire me.
That poem would make anyone cry - anyone...
My Dad and I talked about it. My maternal Grandma died of Azheimer's - and we are certain that my Mother's parents did not read to her...but my parents read to me and of course I read to my children.
I can only pray that for my mother's sake this disease misses her.
Oh, Judy...that is absolutely hauntingly beautiful. Poetry speaks like nothing else, doesn't it? And music reaches me in a deep spot, too. For a song about the 'once upon a time' theme, Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle" leaves me in a puddle of tears every time I hear it.
Time is so fleeting.
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