Sandy Patton’s most recent poem to appear here was “Her Mermaid” (March 2019).
Conversations With Myself
(An Alzheimer’s Patient’s Plea)
By Sandy Patton
I am here, not for long, I know.
Soon I will fade away, and there
will be no coming back, but, for now,
I’m here, and sometimes, I’m still me.
My lucid moments are hazy, fleeting.
I lose pieces of time and grow more
confused, struggling hard to remember
even the most ordinary of things.
I watch you, watching me. I see shades
of shame and regret in your eyes, and
there’s so much I long to say, but my
words stay trapped inside, lost forever.
Don’t be angry when I shout or cry out;
my tiny world frustrates and terrifies me.
It’s no one’s fault; and while it’s not the
death I’d choose, that choice is not mine.
The bleakness of my plight is not
lost on me. I hear the whispered
exchanges of those who speak
as if I’m already gone. It hurts.
I beg you, be mindful with insensitive
words tossed about; they devastate and
crush me. How is it you don’t see my
eyes well up, hear my heart shatter?
I am not deaf, nor dead, yet. Though I
no longer can communicate with words,
I hear you, as I sit quietly, so near.
Look closely, deep inside, I’m still here.
Please try hard to remember me as I was,
my strong spirit, my laughter, my loyalty,
and always, my enduring love for you,
I pray you will never forget,
even when I no longer remember.
Sandy, these lines ache with the pain of suffering and loss. A loving insight into the mind that is leaving, but needs to be cherished and given dignity. Thank you.
Wow, wow, and wow.
Poignant. Sandy, this is spot on. It’s such a horrible disease for the patient and their loved ones.