Cranky Old Man

Old Man - Young Soul

This was written by an old man living in a nursing home.  It was found among his personal things by the staff, after he had passed away.

The next time you meet an older person, think about the still young soul that still lives down inside of them.

The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart.

Cranky Old Man

[Author Unknown]

What do you see, nurses? What do you see?

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

A cranky old man, not very wise,

uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes,

who dribbles his 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 sock or a 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 do at your bidding, as I 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 boy of sixteen with wings on his feet

dreaming that soon now a lover he'll meet.

A groom 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 man of thirty, my young now grown fast,

bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,

with my woman 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 wife is now dead.

I look at the future and I 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 man and nature is cruel.

It's 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 man 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, people, open and see

I'm not a cranky old man.

Look closer.  See ME.

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

A Nurse's Story

It was approximately 8:30 a.m. on a busy morning when an elderly gentleman in his eighties arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb.

He told me kindly that he was in a hurry, because he had an appointment at 9:00 a.m.

I took his vital signs and asked him to please wait there in the room for one of the doctors.

I knew it was going to take more than an hour before someone would to able to attend to him. After I saw him check his watch anxiously for the time, I decided I would evaluate his wound, since I was not busy with another patient.

On examination, I saw that the wound was well healed. So, I spoke to one of the doctors to get the supplies I would need to remove his sutures and redress the wound.

We began to engage in a conversation while I was taking care of his wound. I asked him if he had another doctor’s appointment later, since he was in such a hurry.

The gentleman told me no.  He said that he needed to go to the nursing home to have breakfast with his wife. When I asked about her health, he told me that she had been in the nursing home for a while.  She was a victim of Alzheimer’s Disease.

I probed further and asked if he thought she would be upset if he was slightly late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was.  With his head down, he whispered softly that she had not been able to recognize him for the last five years.

Intrigued, I asked him, “And you still go every morning, even though she doesn’t know who you are?”

He smiled as he patted my hand and said, “No, she doesn’t know me, but I still know who she is.”

I had goose bumps, as I thought to myself, “That is the kind of love I want in my life.”

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be ... and will never be.

[Author Unknown]


“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck