Mar'grit
and
Other Wonderful Ladies
copyright
c2002 by vrd/JennyDecaillet
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced without written permission of the author, except for customary privileges extended to the press and other reviewing agencies
Printed in The USA
Exhale.
Mar’grit’s Story
On Pause
Walk to Yesterday
Annie
A Special Gift
Walk to Yesterday
Annie
A Special Gift
Damn Everything
Martha
Maddie
here But For the Grace
Mar’grit, in Conversation
She Sings
Clara and Cooper
A Snow Storm
The Nobody Place
Elizabeth
He...The Caretaker
30. Mar’grit Again
Mar’grit Left Today
The Map of Life
Marie...On Cookies
Mar’grit Came to the Dance
Martha
Maddie
here But For the Grace
Mar’grit, in Conversation
She Sings
Clara and Cooper
A Snow Storm
The Nobody Place
Elizabeth
He...The Caretaker
30. Mar’grit Again
Mar’grit Left Today
The Map of Life
Marie...On Cookies
Mar’grit Came to the Dance
-----------------------------------------
---------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Exhale
Did you ever feel
the need to hold your breath
fearing
if you exhaled
the whole damn bubble
would pop?
And you'd be
left with
nothing?
© vrd7/4/01
Mar’grit
"I have Alzheimer’s," she said that first day I met her. She would talk to me about her education, and tried to teach me French, laughing when I said the words wrong, and every day she said, "I have Alzheimer’s."
"Oh no, I can’t do the exercises," she would say, "I have this sore hip, that hurts when I move and also I have Alzheimer’s."
"Ok. I would tell her," knowing what would come next. I’d group the chairs for the other participants of the exercise group, and begin the daily routine, counting;
"One. Two. Three. Four."
And by the time I reached five, Mar’grit was smiling. Then she would come over to the chair that I had purposely left empty for her, join in the chair exercise, laughing and having a wonderful time. How I loved to see her like that. She reminded me of a child at Christmas.
I had never worked with anyone who had Alzheimer’s disease before, but I had worked with children who had learning disabilities, and other emotional problems. I soon found the same patience was needed here. What do you do when someone asks the same questions over and over, or when their statements make no sense? What do you say to someone who is an adult but has lost the ability to keep their thoughts organized?
When I first met her, Mar’grit was living in the personal care unit in a retirement facility where I worked as an Activity Director. We are the same age . . . and while her hair is completely white, she looks years younger. Her skin is smooth and fresh looking, devoid of the lines most of us must learn to live with. Her eyes are such a sparkling blue, they remind me of wonderful deep pools of crystal waters. She smiles easily and waves when she sees me passing through the halls on my way to do an activity.
When I first saw her, she was immediately friendly and seemed eager to please. Later she told me of her life in France, how her parents did not let her marry the one true love of her life . . . and how she had subsequently gone to live in Canada and married a very nice man. Mar’grit had a good life with her husband but it wasn’t the "love of her life," she said. She showed me pictures of her daughter who is married and has a child of her own. Mar’grit adores her and longs to see the baby. In the last year, her daughter has only been to see her mother once and did not bring the granddaughter. Mar’grit’s husband, on the other hand, is a regular visitor, taking her for rides, buying ice-cream cones, bringing the dog to visit and love as only Mar’grit can.
Many people have been led to believe Alzheimer patients are violent. And sometimes that is correct, but more often it is not. Those who become violent usually have care givers who lack the skills or patience to care for them . . . Many of them seem to have a sixth sense. They can tell when someone appears to like or dislike them, and react accordingly.
Watching Mar’grit’s response to different people has fascinated me, angered me, made me question, and caused me to cry. When some of the aides walk into the room she becomes sullen, scowls, pushes things and runs away, but when others walk in, she brightens and waves cheerily. Some think she doesn’t know anything but I know she knows. She is aware of those who truly care for her, and those who really feel bothered by her. She reacts to a tone of voice or a facial expression just as you or I would. I question why some do not know that, cannot see it or just seem not to care. To a few, these people are just a paycheck. For others, they are so much more.
I also know caring for them is a difficult and trying task. The aides who do most of the actual work are not well educated, making it difficult for them to understand or relate to these people. And being untrained, means many of them do not understand this horrible mind consuming disease called Alzheimer. They often treat these residents as unruly children, not realizing they are not responsible for what they are doing. When Mar’grit takes banana peels and puts them between books on the library shelf or when she hides all the silverware under the chairs, some of them become visibly irritated and then she reacts to their reactions. They haven’t grasped the rule of distraction yet. It’s frustrating to me because it so simple.
She dwells
In a world we cannot see
A living hell
or
Fantasy?
She’s stuck in the shadows
of time rearranged
On Pause in a world
of continual change.
Confused when she sees us
here today
How did we invade
her yesterday?
Whose fear is the most
hers or ours?
Whose days are the longest
whose minutes
whose hours?
A Walk to Yesterday
Open up the doors!
All these circles in my mind
keep me prisoner
enslaved in now
please someone be so kind
to unlock the present
It’s a tightrope to the past
but it’s real there
It is my life
why does nothing last
There are pancakes on the table
and Mama will understand
So dark it seems
the unglued dreams
I need her gentle hand
Why do you try to
make me change
please let me go away
I need to walk familiar paths
back to my yesterday.
©
Annie
She’s gone now, but I remember that first day I went to work and wasn’t
sure what I was supposed to do or when to do it. Annie took me under
her wing and showed me the ropes. She told me who participated in
which activity and how the games were played. She laughed when I
made a mistake and told me not to worry about it. She worried about me
when I got too tired or when she thought the facility was taking
advantage of me. She told me to rest and not worry about the job. She
was a vital, cheerful woman who was always concerned about other
people, what clothes she wore, which jewelry matched and if her hair
was done. She would never come to the activity or dining rooms unless
she had on her lipstick. She flirted with the man who lived across the
hall and some said they had a “thing” going, but no one really cared, in
fact everyone was happy that she had found someone to share some time.
They had grown up in the same part of the county, went to school
together and knew many of the same people . . . He was in the latter
stages of emphysema and she suffered with Parkinson disease. But the
jokes they could tell, the fun times they shared and the pranks they
instigated will always be remembered.
I watched as Annie became weaker and her meds were changed many
times. Each time they changed she changed. She had a lot of ups and
downs, but through it all she kept her chin up and always tried to help
others. It was during this time she lost her friend across the hall and was
never the same afterward. I wonder if Annie knew she would be next?
Annie’s condition progressed to the point where she could no longer
walk but still enjoyed the exercise program while sitting in her
wheelchair. Later she couldn’t do any exercise but would come out for
Bingo. She loved winning the chocolate bar that was given out for
whoever filled their card first. When I realized she was hallucinating
often and would probably not play bingo much longer as her condition
was rapidly deteriorating, I cheated so she could win that chocolate bar. I
remember the last time she played and how she couldn't talk, but she
smiled and rocked her head back and forth with pleasure when she won.
Did I do something wrong?
Maybe.
Would I do it again?
She’s gone now, but I remember that first day I went to work and wasn’t
sure what I was supposed to do or when to do it. Annie took me under
her wing and showed me the ropes. She told me who participated in
which activity and how the games were played. She laughed when I
made a mistake and told me not to worry about it. She worried about me
when I got too tired or when she thought the facility was taking
advantage of me. She told me to rest and not worry about the job. She
was a vital, cheerful woman who was always concerned about other
people, what clothes she wore, which jewelry matched and if her hair
was done. She would never come to the activity or dining rooms unless
she had on her lipstick. She flirted with the man who lived across the
hall and some said they had a “thing” going, but no one really cared, in
fact everyone was happy that she had found someone to share some time.
They had grown up in the same part of the county, went to school
together and knew many of the same people . . . He was in the latter
stages of emphysema and she suffered with Parkinson disease. But the
jokes they could tell, the fun times they shared and the pranks they
instigated will always be remembered.
I watched as Annie became weaker and her meds were changed many
times. Each time they changed she changed. She had a lot of ups and
downs, but through it all she kept her chin up and always tried to help
others. It was during this time she lost her friend across the hall and was
never the same afterward. I wonder if Annie knew she would be next?
Annie’s condition progressed to the point where she could no longer
walk but still enjoyed the exercise program while sitting in her
wheelchair. Later she couldn’t do any exercise but would come out for
Bingo. She loved winning the chocolate bar that was given out for
whoever filled their card first. When I realized she was hallucinating
often and would probably not play bingo much longer as her condition
was rapidly deteriorating, I cheated so she could win that chocolate bar. I
remember the last time she played and how she couldn't talk, but she
smiled and rocked her head back and forth with pleasure when she won.
Did I do something wrong?
Maybe.
Would I do it again?
In a heartbeat...
------------
Ah Annie
Which way are you going
in your seemingly aimless
purposeful wandering
grasping the handles of your new
four wheeled walker
Eyes straight ahead
head up
proud
Unblinking
What are you thinking?
Zipping across the room
your head faster than your feet.
Why didn’t we meet
before?
You have journeyed a thousand miles
in a few short days.
I can’t reach you now.
Now that you are traveling in your motor home, camping and fishing.
the captain of the girls basketball team.
the highschool flirt.
breaking open watermelons in your fathers field
to eat the sweetest part, climbing the apricot trees
to pick the ripest fruit.
Laughing and living it all again.
I can’t reach you now.
I can’t see them
but
I’m glad the kittens are there for you
I cheat when I call the bingo numbers.
How you love to win the chocolate bars.
Ah Annie
Each of your many journeys have taken a little longer.
You’ve gone a little farther.
I can’t reach you now.
©Vrd
-----------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------
Mar'grits gift to me
A Special Gift
I walked into the dining room one day and heard one of the aides
saying,
“Get out of that chair, that is not your chair and you know it, now get
out of there right now.” Mar’grit shoved the chair back and said,
“What do you want from me? I don’t know what you want. Shall I just
leave?” And with that she shoved the chair, it fell over, and she
stomped out of the room, but not before she saw me at the door.
saying,
“Get out of that chair, that is not your chair and you know it, now get
out of there right now.” Mar’grit shoved the chair back and said,
“What do you want from me? I don’t know what you want. Shall I just
leave?” And with that she shoved the chair, it fell over, and she
stomped out of the room, but not before she saw me at the door.
I walked over to where she was standing outside the door, and said,
“Hi Mar’grit, it’s lunchtime, are you getting hungry?”
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“Shall I show you which is your chair?” I asked
“You saw that.” She said.
“Yes” I answered. “I’ll show you your chair, ok?”
She brightened then and we walked into the dining room. I showed her
to her chair, talked to her for a few minutes, then went to find the
Nursing director. I thought it was time for a talk.
Later that day as I was at my desk working on the next days projects,“Hi Mar’grit, it’s lunchtime, are you getting hungry?”
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“Shall I show you which is your chair?” I asked
“You saw that.” She said.
“Yes” I answered. “I’ll show you your chair, ok?”
She brightened then and we walked into the dining room. I showed her
to her chair, talked to her for a few minutes, then went to find the
Nursing director. I thought it was time for a talk.
Mar’grit came in. She held her hands behind her back, her eyes were
twinkling, and she had a smile on her lips.
“I’ve been outside,” she told me.
“Well it’s a beautiful day, what were you doing out there?” I asked.
“I’ve found these,” she said as she held out her hands cupped together
and inside there were four dry leaves and a rock.
“They are beautiful.” I told her.
“Do you like them? You can have them if you like them.” She said.
“I love them.”
“They are yours” she answered, beaming as if she had given me the
finest present in the world. And in fact she really had.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Donna
Damn Everything
I sat beside her for days
watching her wither
becoming a shadow
of skin
draped over bones
yellow
old
wrinkled
Damn the cancer
that killed her.
Damn the doctors
who couldn’t save her.
Damn the researchers
who couldn’t find a cure.
watching her wither
becoming a shadow
of skin
draped over bones
yellow
old
wrinkled
Damn the cancer
that killed her.
Damn the doctors
who couldn’t save her.
Damn the researchers
who couldn’t find a cure.
Damn me for feeling
relief....
relief....
©Vrd10/20/2000
Dedicated to my sister “Donna” who, in spite of her valiant struggle, lost
her battle with pancreatic cancer in July 1999.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
her battle with pancreatic cancer in July 1999.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Martha
I'm off to a better place
where no restrictions bind.
A beautiful and glorious place
I've pictured in my mind.
I'm off to a better place
that God has promised me.
A place where I can see and hear,
and finally run free.
that God has promised me.
A place where I can see and hear,
and finally run free.
Don't cry for me, be happy.
I'm straight and strong and tall,
for all the boundaries of the world
I've escaped them all
for all the boundaries of the world
I've escaped them all
Martha was my first grandchild. She was born
completely disabled, both mentally and
physically. She suffered seizures daily.
She never walked, never talked and
was blind. She lived twenty-one years.
Martha was my first grandchild. She was born
completely disabled, both mentally and
physically. She suffered seizures daily.
She never walked, never talked and
was blind. She lived twenty-one years.
Maddie was a heavy woman with a brace on one of her legs as a result of polio when she was younger. She walks with two metal brace type canes which seemed very difficult to me. She never complained, in fact she was always smiling and happy. She said, "We make the best of what we have." She had lovely smooth skin, the whitest of white hair and eyes bluer than any I’ve ever seen. Her colors had to be blues, pinks, violets and purples.
She loved all the activities, from poetry, which she had written in the past, to Bingo, to the exercises which she did while sitting in a chair. I often thought she got as much exercise as she needed just walking to the activity room, but she wanted to be included in everything and was upset when an appointment to the doctor or anything else kept her from attending an activity. She especially loved music, singing and dancing.
Maddie was married and had five children when she contracted polio. Her husband left her to raise her children alone. It takes a strong woman to overcome all those odds. She worked as a librarian putting her children through school, then retired and came to live in the personal care unit at age seventy-six.
I watched as her condition worsened. She hated to be left alone and would cry when it was time for me to go home.
One Monday morning after being off for two days I walked by her room, she was sitting in her chair, gazing at the wall, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. I went in, sat beside her and she reached out her hand. I brought her back time and again. Then one day, I lost the battle and could not bring her back to me . . .
They moved her then to the Alzheimer’s unit.
There But For The Grace
Instead of me, another waits
with joy no longer on her face.
The dreams she had for naught, or gone
with time have been replaced
by apathy
and loneliness
And there but for the grace
go I along another path
Oh God my upward gaze
gives thanks to thee, though it is late
I could be sitting in her place
looking toward infinity
She’s run a losing race
while I in tranquil sunlight bask
my solo world replaced
with springtime hopes, renewals born
I love this time, this place
but questions rise, how does he choose
Why do some win and others lose?
with joy no longer on her face.
The dreams she had for naught, or gone
with time have been replaced
by apathy
and loneliness
And there but for the grace
go I along another path
Oh God my upward gaze
gives thanks to thee, though it is late
I could be sitting in her place
looking toward infinity
She’s run a losing race
while I in tranquil sunlight bask
my solo world replaced
with springtime hopes, renewals born
I love this time, this place
but questions rise, how does he choose
Why do some win and others lose?
© vrd11/13/2001
Mar’grit in Conversation
"You remember Marc don’t you?"
She asked.
"Yes," I answered, knowing Marc was her husband.
"Well, there are two of him." She continued.
"One when there are many people around
and one when some other times. He gets confused
sometimes and thinks he is my father. Well, he is
my father you know. My parents would not let me
marry the love of my life. They said I was too young,
but they were happy when I married the two Marcs.
I didn’t know that person very well. I thought he was a friend
He was very nice, but then he left and that is when I found out
he turned around. Next time I’ll take it very slow and be sure.
But of course this could change when there are two of them.
And when I go there I hope the people there will have interest.
I hope they are not, well, those who are two.
You see he took my dog away from me. I wanted to see her
and he took her away. He’s not a good Marc.
Did you see when they brought me . . . well after . . . the words aren’t there.
Sometimes it’s blank."
"Sometimes it is frustrating, isn’t it?" I asked.
She brightened like a child seeing a new toy. "Yes, you know." She answered.©Vrd1/6/2000
-------------------------------------------------------------
She Sings
She sings her songs in solitude
She sings them to herself.
She doesn't know I'm listening
Or she would sing no more.
She sits and rocks and silently
a tear slides down her cheek
She wants to ask
but cannot find the words
with which to speak
a tear slides down her cheek
She wants to ask
but cannot find the words
with which to speak
She really tries to recollect
just what she came here for
She sees me yet she doesn't know
She sits and sings some more.
just what she came here for
She sees me yet she doesn't know
She sits and sings some more.
7/10/97
------------------------------------------------------------
Clara and Cooper
Clara was a soft spoken, tiny woman who
loved music, dancing and traveling. She
played a classical flute and always loved it
when we had musical entertainment. She
and her husband, Cooper would dance,
amazing everyone with their
“togetherness” I called it. She knew
exactly which step to take and when, like
they had been dancing for years, well in
fact they had.
loved music, dancing and traveling. She
played a classical flute and always loved it
when we had musical entertainment. She
and her husband, Cooper would dance,
amazing everyone with their
“togetherness” I called it. She knew
exactly which step to take and when, like
they had been dancing for years, well in
fact they had.
They had so many plans, then she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s
disease. Cooper, not unlike many men, felt with good care and food
she would be able to overcome this “temporary” setback. He could not
accept the fact this was one problem he couldn’t fix or change no
matter how much he loved her. He spent countless hours and
thousands of dollars taking her to different doctors and trying different
treatments. Despite his care, love and determination, Clara’s condition
worsened quickly and she soon became unable to walk, angered easily,
frustrating Cooper to the point he wondered if she still loved him. He
couldn’t understand why she had changed.
disease. Cooper, not unlike many men, felt with good care and food
she would be able to overcome this “temporary” setback. He could not
accept the fact this was one problem he couldn’t fix or change no
matter how much he loved her. He spent countless hours and
thousands of dollars taking her to different doctors and trying different
treatments. Despite his care, love and determination, Clara’s condition
worsened quickly and she soon became unable to walk, angered easily,
frustrating Cooper to the point he wondered if she still loved him. He
couldn’t understand why she had changed.
I sat with Cooper as he mourned the loss of his wife of forty-seven
years. He seemed to just want to talk, telling me about their life
together. They had no children, and had been everything to each other.
He told me how he felt it had all happened so suddenly, that he felt as
if a sudden snowstorm had blinded their path. He didn’t know where to
turn or where to run, but just wanted to get away from the pain and yet
there was no path left for him to travel, no doorway, nothing.
years. He seemed to just want to talk, telling me about their life
together. They had no children, and had been everything to each other.
He told me how he felt it had all happened so suddenly, that he felt as
if a sudden snowstorm had blinded their path. He didn’t know where to
turn or where to run, but just wanted to get away from the pain and yet
there was no path left for him to travel, no doorway, nothing.
A Snow Storm Not Predicted
Have you ever seen a snowstorm
(one that wasn't planned)
hide the road ahead
just as though a hand
had taken an eraser
and wiped it all away,
as yellow sun of summer
fades to winter gray?
Snowstorms unpredicted,
may change a plan begun,
fright'ning, and wond'ring,
which way is best to run?
Sometimes without a warning
a cloud will block the sun.
While broken into pieces,
plans fall one by one
to lie along the wayside
where others have fallen before.
It hides the way to someday
There is no open door.
©vrd.7/1/98
may change a plan begun,
fright'ning, and wond'ring,
which way is best to run?
Sometimes without a warning
a cloud will block the sun.
While broken into pieces,
plans fall one by one
to lie along the wayside
where others have fallen before.
It hides the way to someday
There is no open door.
©vrd.7/1/98
The Nobody Place
On the walkway from the retirement village to the Personal Care Unit,
I met Mar’grit again. She doesn’t like the Personal care unit where she
lives and feels some there do not like her. When I am there at the
activity table, which is in one corner, she will stay in the room but
wanders all over fiddling at one table or another, tiring the aides who
have to pick up her messes. Yes, she is very messy. Sometimes she
crumbles crackers in a pile on a chair. Or she puts sugar in a cup and
dribbles it all over the floor. Apple cores and orange peels are found
in the planters, or under a plate. The aides become frustrated and
Mar’grit notices. She may have Alzheimer’s disease but she’s very
observant.
“Hi, Mar’grit” I said. She loves it when we use her name . . . not
honey or darlin’, but Mar’grit . . . after all she is Mar’grit. How would
you like to be honey or darlin’ to people who were younger than you...
How would you feel if everyone in the whole place were honey or
darlin’? How much of an individual would you be? An Alzheimer
person is rapidly losing their own identity. Why rush it along?
honey or darlin’, but Mar’grit . . . after all she is Mar’grit. How would
you like to be honey or darlin’ to people who were younger than you...
How would you feel if everyone in the whole place were honey or
darlin’? How much of an individual would you be? An Alzheimer
person is rapidly losing their own identity. Why rush it along?
“Hi” she said. “Your feet are lovely tiny little packages.” She
continued, looking down at my feet. I’d worn some black Mary Jane
style sandals that day and they did give the illusion of my feet being
smaller than they really were.
continued, looking down at my feet. I’d worn some black Mary Jane
style sandals that day and they did give the illusion of my feet being
smaller than they really were.
“Oh Thank you, where are you going?” I asked.
“Well, this is my last day here,”
“Really? Are you moving today?”
“Well, this is my last day here,”
“Really? Are you moving today?”
The new Alzheimer building is opening soon, owned by the same
facility, but separate from it. It’s a wonderful building and Mar’grit is
anxious to move there. But the county has been dragging their feet and
the final inspections are taking waaaay too long, leaving her and
others, living in limbo and rapidly progressing farther into the disease,
faster than they really should be, and I believe it is because they are
neglected. I don’t mean they are deprived of food, or shelter, but they
facility, but separate from it. It’s a wonderful building and Mar’grit is
anxious to move there. But the county has been dragging their feet and
the final inspections are taking waaaay too long, leaving her and
others, living in limbo and rapidly progressing farther into the disease,
faster than they really should be, and I believe it is because they are
neglected. I don’t mean they are deprived of food, or shelter, but they
are deprived of the emotional care they so desperately need. There is
no one who takes the time or has the time, to just sit with them and
have coffee. They love that. Give them some cookies and coffee and sit
there and have conversation. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what
they are talking about, you can still have a conversation. Mar’grit is so
agreeable and happy when someone spends some time with her.
no one who takes the time or has the time, to just sit with them and
have coffee. They love that. Give them some cookies and coffee and sit
there and have conversation. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what
they are talking about, you can still have a conversation. Mar’grit is so
agreeable and happy when someone spends some time with her.
“Yes they told me, today or I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to
the nobody place,” she says.
“I know, but I’m going down there now, would you like to walk with
me?” I ask.
“Oh well, if you’re going, you are one of the good ones, I like you, you
are my first lieutenant.” She answered.
the nobody place,” she says.
“I know, but I’m going down there now, would you like to walk with
me?” I ask.
“Oh well, if you’re going, you are one of the good ones, I like you, you
are my first lieutenant.” She answered.
She took my hand and together we walked back to the nobody place.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Elizabeth..
©Vrd 2/13/99
Elizabeth was a poet, a beautiful tiny and delicate poet. She was
thoughtful, kind and soft spoken. Wearing roses, pinks and light blues,
she always looked fashionable without looking bold.
thoughtful, kind and soft spoken. Wearing roses, pinks and light blues,
she always looked fashionable without looking bold.
She had a quiet refined loveliness about her and truly was interested in
the well being of others. She was funny, intelligent, warm and her
clothing matched her personality to perfection.
the well being of others. She was funny, intelligent, warm and her
clothing matched her personality to perfection.
She had never worked outside the home in a paying position, but
volunteered her time helping those who were less fortunate than others.
She worried about children and their lack of food, education and love.
volunteered her time helping those who were less fortunate than others.
She worried about children and their lack of food, education and love.
She loved it when I would read poetry or stories aloud to the group,
and would always sit quietly with a small smile on her lips. She never
failed to thank me.
and would always sit quietly with a small smile on her lips. She never
failed to thank me.
I watched as she became unable to read, walk and eventually talk, but
through all this she never stopped wearing earrings and never stopped
smiling.
through all this she never stopped wearing earrings and never stopped
smiling.
Elizabeth
Thin and tall, very straight
Beauty with a prideful gait.
Pastel elegance was worn
matching earrings to adorn
ears below well coiffed hair
Rosy cheeks, complexion fair
Beads and necklaces hung round
Beauty with a prideful gait.
Pastel elegance was worn
matching earrings to adorn
ears below well coiffed hair
Rosy cheeks, complexion fair
Beads and necklaces hung round
slim neck and on her fingers found
rings and nails painted rose
matching those upon her toes
Tiny feet, tan and bare
thin strapped sandals buckled there
rings and nails painted rose
matching those upon her toes
Tiny feet, tan and bare
thin strapped sandals buckled there
The muse of those who write the rhymes
she gave freely of her time
She reached to those who could not stand
with love and warmth extended hand
she gave freely of her time
She reached to those who could not stand
with love and warmth extended hand
But time does somersaults with lives
They’re Widows now instead of wives.
Shoulders rounded, aged by fate
Shuffling becomes a normal gait.
As other hands help her dress
Her knowledge has become a guess.
Confusion shows in frightened eyes
and will, while she can realize
something has gone so awry
Why don’t they help, she wonders why?
They’re Widows now instead of wives.
Shoulders rounded, aged by fate
Shuffling becomes a normal gait.
As other hands help her dress
Her knowledge has become a guess.
Confusion shows in frightened eyes
and will, while she can realize
something has gone so awry
Why don’t they help, she wonders why?
Then mercy helps her cross the line
and still confused, yet in her mind
she lives her life not in today
but in the time of yesterday
She isn’t crying anymore
She’s gone inside and closed the door.
and still confused, yet in her mind
she lives her life not in today
but in the time of yesterday
She isn’t crying anymore
She’s gone inside and closed the door.
©Vrd 2/13/99
He...The Caretaker
He
doesn’t understand
how
the love of his life
became lost
inside herself.
doesn’t understand
how
the love of his life
became lost
inside herself.
The banana peel
on the bookshelf behind Tennyson
was the first realization
that forgotten purses
and lost earrings
were more than
forgetfulness.
on the bookshelf behind Tennyson
was the first realization
that forgotten purses
and lost earrings
were more than
forgetfulness.
He
doesn’t understand
why
He can touch her body
but not her mind.
doesn’t understand
why
He can touch her body
but not her mind.
Thousands of whys
just to realize
“I can’t fix this”...
just to realize
“I can’t fix this”...
And so he becomes
“The Caretaker.”
“The Caretaker.”
©vrd 9/7/2001
Mar’grit Again.
I had a conversation
with Mar’grit again today.
with Mar’grit again today.
She doesn’t talk about France
anymore.
anymore.
She told me
she was moving
and she is.
she was moving
and she is.
I remember when
she reminded me
of this disease
that confuses
the present
with the past...
her private prison
that continues
to grow.
she reminded me
of this disease
that confuses
the present
with the past...
her private prison
that continues
to grow.
She’s moving
to the
Alzheimer’s unit.
to the
Alzheimer’s unit.
I’ve told her
it’s peaceful there.
And it is.
it’s peaceful there.
And it is.
I wonder.
Is it a blessing
that she has forgotten
why she is going?
©vrd1/6/2000
Is it a blessing
that she has forgotten
why she is going?
©vrd1/6/2000
----------------------------------------
Mar’grit left today.
She moved to the Alzheimer’s wing
I have mixed emotions.
I have mixed emotions.
I know it’s selfish to wish she was still in the personal care unit.
I know it.
But I miss her.
I know it.
But I miss her.
I am so used to arriving there at 9:00 a.m. to change the calendar and start
the day’s activities, and always she’d be waiting.
She would brighten like a child whose Mother has just come home and
would wave that happy, yet shy little wave. Her wonderful blue eyes
sparkling, her dimples showing, and just for a minute it would be as if two
friends were meeting after a long absence.
the day’s activities, and always she’d be waiting.
She would brighten like a child whose Mother has just come home and
would wave that happy, yet shy little wave. Her wonderful blue eyes
sparkling, her dimples showing, and just for a minute it would be as if two
friends were meeting after a long absence.
I’m actually happy for her. I know the people there will give her the
attention she so desperately deserves . . . and needs. Attention she did not
get in the personal care unit with aides who lack the ability to understand
her illness. Some say it was because they lacked the training, but can you
really train someone to feel compassion? Sometimes people are not looked
at as individual living and breathing persons . . . but rather as a job. A
tedious and stressful job.
attention she so desperately deserves . . . and needs. Attention she did not
get in the personal care unit with aides who lack the ability to understand
her illness. Some say it was because they lacked the training, but can you
really train someone to feel compassion? Sometimes people are not looked
at as individual living and breathing persons . . . but rather as a job. A
tedious and stressful job.
Mar’grit waited a long time to move.
I know it’s selfish to wish she was still in the personal care unit.
I know it.
But I miss her.
I know it.
But I miss her.
©vrd1/15/2000
The Map of Life
It isn’t like a reservation
where there’s choosing in advance.
We can’t see what is tomorrow.
It is just a game of luck or chance.
where there’s choosing in advance.
We can’t see what is tomorrow.
It is just a game of luck or chance.
In the morning after sleeping
we awake and find it so
our hand in life has been re-shuffled.
We’re unsure which way to go.
we awake and find it so
our hand in life has been re-shuffled.
We’re unsure which way to go.
Fighting raging muddied waters,
“Predictable” released our hand.
The map of life has become cloudy
in mid stream, a changing plan.
“Predictable” released our hand.
The map of life has become cloudy
in mid stream, a changing plan.
Stumbling blindly on a new path,
changing patterns in the sand,
No one here to walk beside us.
No one here to hold our hand.
changing patterns in the sand,
No one here to walk beside us.
No one here to hold our hand.
Life is just a fleeting pleasure
to walk together for a way.
And “Forever” is till it's over,
which is one, or many days.
to walk together for a way.
And “Forever” is till it's over,
which is one, or many days.
It may be a brief sad chapter
or a long and lovely book.
Chancing “happily ever after”
that’s the only map we walk.
or a long and lovely book.
Chancing “happily ever after”
that’s the only map we walk.
©vrd.6/97
revised
7/98
revised
7/98
Marie was a quiet woman who didn’t make friends easily. She would sit
in one of the larger arm chairs on the side of the dining/activity room and
read. I never saw her without a book in her hand. She started talking to
me little by little on Friday mornings when I served donuts and coffee to
the group. She began lingering after the others had gone back to their
rooms, helping to clean the table and put the used cups and napkins in the
trash can. It was then I noticed how she always loved things neat and tidy.
in one of the larger arm chairs on the side of the dining/activity room and
read. I never saw her without a book in her hand. She started talking to
me little by little on Friday mornings when I served donuts and coffee to
the group. She began lingering after the others had gone back to their
rooms, helping to clean the table and put the used cups and napkins in the
trash can. It was then I noticed how she always loved things neat and tidy.
Her clothing was always coordinated from shoes to jewelry to having
every hair in place, although she did not have it permed and sprayed like
some others her age, it was neatly trimmed, naturally wavy and whiter
than snow. She was eighty-nine years of age with not one single wrinkle
in her face.
every hair in place, although she did not have it permed and sprayed like
some others her age, it was neatly trimmed, naturally wavy and whiter
than snow. She was eighty-nine years of age with not one single wrinkle
in her face.
I was impressed by her stature, and I don’t mean size for she was very
thin, and not so tall, but she held her self straight and walked with a regal
gait. She had a marvelous sense of humor, a quick intelligent wit, was a
great believer in education and family loyalty.
thin, and not so tall, but she held her self straight and walked with a regal
gait. She had a marvelous sense of humor, a quick intelligent wit, was a
great believer in education and family loyalty.
One day we had afternoon tea for the group, complete with china cups,
and wonderful cookies. I had been trying to lose weight, but was finding
the cookies to be very tempting. Marie then gave me a lovely piece of
advice explaining why I should eat the cookies. I will never forget the
words she spoke. I just had to write a poem. And here it is . . .
and wonderful cookies. I had been trying to lose weight, but was finding
the cookies to be very tempting. Marie then gave me a lovely piece of
advice explaining why I should eat the cookies. I will never forget the
words she spoke. I just had to write a poem. And here it is . . .
Marie. On Cookies
Another day
and I find
freshest memories of mine
are thoughts of her, still in my mind
and I find
freshest memories of mine
are thoughts of her, still in my mind
long after words she spoke to me
and quiet is
where sound should be.
and quiet is
where sound should be.
Caramel skin, the color brown
upon her face ne’er was a frown.
Wrinkles were not hers to wear
silver brightened whitest hair.
upon her face ne’er was a frown.
Wrinkles were not hers to wear
silver brightened whitest hair.
Tall and slender, very straight,
safari colors coordinate
with coral rings
turquoise things.
safari colors coordinate
with coral rings
turquoise things.
And quietly with words she’d paint
pictures, while her voice grew faint.
pictures, while her voice grew faint.
Softly she would rationalize
while mischief shown
in warm brown eyes.
while mischief shown
in warm brown eyes.
“Eating cookies is good for you
you need some sugar,
Yes you do.
you need some sugar,
Yes you do.
You should never deny
yourself a cookie
yourself a cookie
I’ll tell you why
and I know it sounds so dumb
but very soon you will
succumb
to temptation as it brings
and I know it sounds so dumb
but very soon you will
succumb
to temptation as it brings
thoughts of eating other things
and those things it often seems
are nasty puddings and icy creams
full of awful ingredients
that’s why cookies are heaven sent.
So eat the cookie it’s good for you.
The only thing better
is maybe two.”
©Vrd
and those things it often seems
are nasty puddings and icy creams
full of awful ingredients
that’s why cookies are heaven sent.
So eat the cookie it’s good for you.
The only thing better
is maybe two.”
©Vrd
Mar’grit came to the dance . . .
Seeing me she brightened, came forward and kissed me on the cheek.
She’s heavier now. Alzheimer people eat a lot. She loves to dance, and
was happy to hear the music. She sat with her care provider but glanced at
me often, and each time gave me a tiny, dainty wave, smiling as she did,
eyes sparkling. What wonderful blue eyes she has. They seem to twinkle .
. . and her skin. . .
She’s heavier now. Alzheimer people eat a lot. She loves to dance, and
was happy to hear the music. She sat with her care provider but glanced at
me often, and each time gave me a tiny, dainty wave, smiling as she did,
eyes sparkling. What wonderful blue eyes she has. They seem to twinkle .
. . and her skin. . .
I think I’ve mentioned her flawless wonderful skin before. Such beauty
she must have had when younger and not afflicted by such a merciless
ailment such as Alzheimer’s disease. She doesn’t know she has it now.
She’s passed that point, thank God. It used to torment her so when she
knew and was aware it would progress.
she must have had when younger and not afflicted by such a merciless
ailment such as Alzheimer’s disease. She doesn’t know she has it now.
She’s passed that point, thank God. It used to torment her so when she
knew and was aware it would progress.
She laughed and danced several times, smiling at whoever was her partner
for that particular dance . . . She even exchanged a few pleasantries with
them. Then Marc came. That’s her husband, as you know from earlier
writings.
for that particular dance . . . She even exchanged a few pleasantries with
them. Then Marc came. That’s her husband, as you know from earlier
writings.
He was so happy to see her having a good time and asked her to dance.
She hesitated, but then managed to get to the dance floor with him. They
danced for several minutes, when I noticed Mar’grit had stopped and was
standing there waving her arms at him . . . He asked her what she wanted
to do, but of course she didn’t know, or couldn’t tell him. It’s a tough
situation. Families for the most part are too close to understand, and feel
hurt that the afflicted person spurns them. It’s sad. Finally they had to
take her back to the Alzheimer unit. She feels safe there with its circular
design that eliminates the need to make decisions.
She hesitated, but then managed to get to the dance floor with him. They
danced for several minutes, when I noticed Mar’grit had stopped and was
standing there waving her arms at him . . . He asked her what she wanted
to do, but of course she didn’t know, or couldn’t tell him. It’s a tough
situation. Families for the most part are too close to understand, and feel
hurt that the afflicted person spurns them. It’s sad. Finally they had to
take her back to the Alzheimer unit. She feels safe there with its circular
design that eliminates the need to make decisions.
I have noticed that some Alzheimer’s afflicted women actually do better
when their husbands are not around. I wonder if they have a feeling of
abandonment? Or have they forgotten who he is? Or do they see the
frustration he is feeling but are unable to discuss it? . Do they themselves
become frustrated by a problem they can’t fix? Neither one is able to
actually console the other and what a wide chasm that becomes. Widening
and widening until each is unreachable. Sometimes, the time comes,
when it doesn’t benefit either to see the other. But then what does the un-
afflicted one do? If he does not go to see her, everyone thinks he is
terrible.
when their husbands are not around. I wonder if they have a feeling of
abandonment? Or have they forgotten who he is? Or do they see the
frustration he is feeling but are unable to discuss it? . Do they themselves
become frustrated by a problem they can’t fix? Neither one is able to
actually console the other and what a wide chasm that becomes. Widening
and widening until each is unreachable. Sometimes, the time comes,
when it doesn’t benefit either to see the other. But then what does the un-
afflicted one do? If he does not go to see her, everyone thinks he is
terrible.
He himself thinks there must be something
wrong with him because he cannot understand
the disease, and is not tolerant enough. But
tolerance has nothing to do with such a
heartfelt situation.
wrong with him because he cannot understand
the disease, and is not tolerant enough. But
tolerance has nothing to do with such a
heartfelt situation.
-----------------------------------------
Now What?
Now what?
The whole space
that was filled
with you
is empty.
Now what?
where to go
lost
lost
now what
The whole space
that was filled
with you
is empty.
Now what?
where to go
lost
lost
now what
now what?
A Word about the author
The poetry of this author, Jenny, absolutely, always, reeks with one thing in particular---to my discerning eye--and that is her almost uncanny ability to express HERSELF, her thought, her experience, and above all, her FEELINGS. I have observed her over several year's time, and these attributes of hers are CONSISTENT. Read her poetry, and live with her.
John Warren Owen, (retired teacher, coach, and composer)
---------------------------------------------------
Jenny has been the leader of our senior poetry group for years and has never ceased to amaze me with the quality of her writing. She handles the varied personalities of the people in the group like a juggler in the circus with multiple balls in the air. Three cheers for our Jenny!
Richard, (short story group coordinator)
---------------------------------------------------
An observation:
My opinion of Jenny is limited to the Internet, but even saying that, she arrives on my computer screen full of warmth and vitality. Of all the qualities I may miss from not being able to hold her hand, hear her voice, or make contact with her eyes, her sincerity and dedication to the poetry group and the promotion of poetic opinion and emotion is genuinely felt. I am proud to call her "friend!"
Joe (retired air force, poetry writer)
---------------------------------------------------------
Jenny has been the coordinator of an on-line poetry page for three years. Her tireless efforts
and unfailing enthusiasm and support are very inspiring to the poetry writers in her group.
Jean Fuleki. Ontario, Canada
-------------------------------------------------
Jenny has made a significant contribution to modern poetry by starting and maintaining a Poetry Page that encourages poets to practice their craft on a regular basis. I know she helped improve the quality of my poetry. Her own poetry is fresh, relevant, and inspiring. I recommend her new book to all who enjoy poetry.
Billie Whelchel Turnbull,
Author, Columnist.
Portland, Oregon.
----------------------------------------
Jenny is a talented poet. Her work with Alzheimer's patients has given her an insight into the emotions and devastation of this illness. She is able to relate to patients and their families in her poetry.
Charline D. Coulter (retired teacher, poetry writer)
----------------------------------
I HAVE HAD THE PLEASURE AND HONOR OF BEING
ASSOCIATED WITH"JENNY" FOR 2 WONDERFUL YEARS. SHE
IS A SUPER POET AND A TRUE FRIEND
IRVING BROZ, author
--------------------------------
To read a poem by Jenny is to visit a world of word and mental pictures, some of hurt, care, love and laughter. No matter the subject you will feel privileged to have seen and felt an artist at work.
C. Lee McIntosh (retired air force pilot, poetry writer
-------------------------------------------------
Words about Virginia Ruth Decaillet (Jenny)...
There are few people in this world who have the God given talent to put into words the nagging doubts, unanswered questions, hurts and pain that life brings to all of us.
The Poetry of Virginia Ruth Decaillet puts into words those feelings and even our hidden feelings that many of us won't allow to surface.
When I first read a poem by Virginia Ruth a maze of events in my life flashed across my mind.
It was then I knew that another felt the deep feelings in my heart and brain for she put those feelings into words.
It was then I knew that another felt my hope for the future despite the destruction and setbacks in my life.
It was then I knew that another could face frustration, and unpleasantness while still holding strong their love and individuality.
It was then I knew that another could bring me back to love and beauty by just reading her words and truth.
It was then I knew that Virginia Ruth Decaillet could touch the souls of those who read her words and bring brightness into this world for those who hunger for it.
Her beautiful, powerful poems are by far my favorites.
Leonardo Weismeyer
