Sunday, July 24, 2016

Caregiver's Lament

Caregiver’s Lament

The bracelet labels me “Caregiver,”
gives me an ID number
labels me as one who looks after someone with memory loss.
But there are some days now
when I don’t want to “care,”
don’t want to answer the same question for the tenth time,
days when I try to find the courage
to say no to another trip to Starbuck’s,
days when I don’t want to explain which is the phone,
which is the TV remote,
days when I tired of coaxing him to eat,
to take his pills, to brush his teeth,
days when I have ask him not to wear his pajama top to church
even though he calls it a shirt,
days when I’m tired of being angry and frustrated
when I am lonely and miss the brilliant, funny man I knew.
There are days when I want to take off that cloak, that bracelet
and travel to an exotic landscape if only in my mind,
when I want someone to ask me if I would like to go for ice cream
or would I like to watch a movie?
when I wish someone else would take out the trash,
days when it would just be nice to be remembered
days when I wish someone would take care of me.

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