Taking Care of Evie

Cherry

By Bee

Wed, 11 Dec 2013
  • 2046 reads
13 comments
 

Don slammed a meaty hand 

on the bedside table

and bellowed red

and hypertensive at the nurse

who brought the supper -

lentil soup, just as Evie liked it -

good and wintery thick.

 

He swiped the bowl from my hand

and threw it down

by the sink where it landed

in circular clatters, spitting

spluttered green around the rim.

 

I picked it up and licked the spillage

off my fingers - it tasted good -

spooned some to her lips

and saw her thank me with her eyes.

Ah, the luxury of flavour

and the quelling of hunger

in the slow passage of time.

 

She had begged, but he'd insisted

that even with sufficient nursing care

he couldn't, or rather, wouldn't cope

with her at home.

 

He'd felt embarrassed by her pleading

and guilty when she'd cried

but that was while she had the power

of speech, and now the progression 

of paralysis had rendered her much calmer

and in a funny way, he found it a relief.

 

He did what he thought he should -

brought her nighties, entertained

her visitors, took their sympathy

and complained 

when things weren't right. He paid

 

good money for this place,

and while she vegetated 

and he waited for the end to come,

they only brought her soup

he wouldn't let her eat

because he was frustrated and extremely

agitated that they always seasoned it

with too much salt.

 

Certificate 12
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by VeraClark on

Bee, I love the role the bowl of soup plays here. Very well layered, sandwich style, in fact. Works as a precursor to Evie's deterioation yet it's as much about Don's loss. Painfully sad. All those little details that get lost in an elder's care plan makes the heart heavy.

 

Submitted by Bee on

Hi Vera.

Really pleased you thought it worked so well, and that you saw it was about what Don was going through, too.

Thank you,

Bee

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

It is sad how mixed up people can get from guilt, and grief, and not knowing how to help but being critical of the imperfections of those who are trying – sometimes desiring to show tenderness, but being angry instead. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Bee on

It is sad, Rhiannon. I guess it comes down to human nature. You put it so well,

thank you.

Bee

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Picked up the frustration and futility, embarrassment even, beautifully, Bee. A sad situation that I've seen a few times myself. The poem draws attention from Evie's predicament to Don's and throws the moral problem for the reader to catch. Really nicely done. Maybe I'm being too charitable to Don?

Parson Thru

Submitted by Bee on

Hi PT.

I guess he never had to cope with anything like it before, and sadly, she couldn't speak up for herself. Pleased you thought it came out right.

Thank you for reading, and for your kind comments.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Expertly executed, this poem, Bee.  I could identify with so much of it, unfortunately.  A powerful, emotive write, more than deserving of its cherries.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

Thank you, Tina. Your words mean so much.

 

Bee

Submitted by Bee on

Thanks to the the someone who took the time to read and pick cherries.

Bee

Submitted by Ed Crane on

This is true love, Bee. It take on so many forms. Great write.

 

Submitted by Bee on

Thank you Ed.

Bee

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Bee

I used to be a dietitian, and got really annoyed when patients who were at death's door were put on special diets - low salt, low calorie, etc - making the last few days even more miserable in the name of doing the right thing in terms of the disease.

Lovely poem.

Jean Day

Submitted by Bee on

hi Jean.

Yes, that is infuriating - especially when the person can't speak their wishes any more. Glad you liked the poem, and thank you for your comments.

 

 

 

Bee