When a senior died in the geriatric ward of a hospital near

Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had left nothing of value.

Then, the nurses, going through her possessions, found this poem.

Its quality so impressed the staff that copies were made and

distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy

to Ireland. The lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared

in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland

Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made

based on the poem.

The Poem

What do you see nurses, what do you see,

What are you thinking when you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit,

with faraway eyes.

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply when you say in a

loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!"

Who seems to not 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.

I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still.

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 now a lover she will meet.

A bride soon 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 guide and a secure

happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound

to each other with ties that should last. At forty my young

sons are grown and are gone, but my man's beside me to see I

don't mourn. At fifty, once more, babies play by 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, shudder

with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own, and

I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel; 'tis jest to make old age

look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, there is

now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass

a young girl still dwells, and now and 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, nurses,

open and see, not a crabby old woman; look closer ~ SEE ME !!

~Author Unknown To Me~

Remember this poem the next time you meet an elderly person.

We will one day be there too.

Youth is not a time of life-

it is a state of mind.

Whether seventy or sixteen,

there is in every beings heart a love of wonder;

The sweet amazement at the

stars and starlike things and thoughts;

the undaunted challenge of events,

The unfailing, childlike appetite for what comes next,

and the joy in the game of life.

You are as young as your faith,

as old as your doubt,

as young as your self-confidence,

as old as your fear;

as young as your hope,

as old as your despair.

~Samuel Ullman~