“Why wouldn’t she eat, doc” he asked..
Voice trembling, with shuffling steps he to me approached
“She’s 89, I’m 90,
We’ve been married for years almost now 70
I brought her in as she wasn’t making any sense
Looking for her mother fell down she, attempting to run she was”
With barely any voice, with much difficulty to find words, frustrated
Expressing his concerns, my confused patient’s husband stood
Pulling a chair out for him, I sat too by the bedside
“Oh here you are!” she held my hand and smiled
“Do you know me sweetheart, I came to see how you’re doing..
Can you tell me who this gentleman is by your side.. your recovery we’re awaiting!”
Deep buried their eyes were, sunken
Still narrating a story of their love amaranthine
She wasn’t certain now though of who that man was
Perhaps she knew him but to recall felt she too arduous
Offered her a spoon of pudding, fed her an egg, some applesauce with water sips
Breathlessly, hungrily, devoured she those bits
Her heart was too bemused, too naive to break..
But I could hear his thunderous cry and feel his destitute soul bitterly ache
For he would take her home again
But as a stranger to her.. for who they used to be, she’s forgotten
They’d shared not just a life, but promises of togetherness
To walk holding hands, through happiness or sadness
Not too many comorbidities, yet just with old age, failure to thrive and frailness
She didn’t have much time, so was accepted by hospice
His eyes were too dry to shed even a tear
But reflecting memories they were of their love as if in a broken mirror
Feebly then he uttered..”Never wished for old age, unless it was with her..
Dreaded dementia more than death.. but today that’s my only desire”
NotesOfADrMom 