Today our focus is on Aging. We're all aging, even the youngest of us, so I think it's a good idea to face it with poetry. I chose this poem because it captures my dear Mother-in-law's last days so clearly when she was in the hospital after a fall (and I also love the title). She was using a wheeled walker and when one of the welds broke she fell and broke her pelvis. I wish she had made progress to take five steps, but it was not to be.
There are wires and cords
that stretch out,
hang dangling
from the hospital bed,
the transparent filigree
of a floating jellyfish.
One leads to the phone
to order food.
One leads to the TV, so we can stare at
cooking shows with delicacies not available here.
One leads to compression wraps
for your vulnerable legs.
Another leads to the IV ports
in your bruised, crepe-skinned arm.
In between your long spells of sleeping
and my knitting,
we enjoy the pretend competition
of the contestants cooking.
We marvel at how quickly
they move about the kitchen.
I marvel even more at your careful movements
and the miracle of progress after your fall.
We count the steps you take
as if you are skipping stones—
any number makes you a winner.
You fight for everyday markers of strength,
your efforts a perfect ten.
This is the Olympics of rehabilitation.
Cotton gown diamond patterns
become your fashion.
We look out the window as day becomes night.
Another day passes
in the goldfish bowl of recovery,
a blue ribbon day of taking five steps
just to turn around
and walk back to the bed.
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Norcross, Cristina M.R. "Jellyfish Olympics". Poem-a-Day on November 8, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.
You can read more about the poet here.
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Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for
more poetry today, and join us next Thursday
for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember
that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!)
What a beautiful poem, Bonny. Aging is not for the faint of heart, most certainly... and the Olympics of Rehabilitation tests that theory with a bit of grace and humor. I especially love that this process was not done alone! Thank goodness for knitters who are happy to sit in communion with the process.
ReplyDeleteAnother new-to-me poet Bonny. Thanks for sharing this poem. It just so perfectly captures those hospital days (I remember with my Dad). The title is priceless!
ReplyDeleteThis poem does such an amazing job of bringing heart and humor to what can be a very difficult situation. And what a great title!
ReplyDeleteOh, Bonny. That is a perfect poem . . . and one that makes me sad that your mother-in-law did not "medal" in her final competition. Gifted poets . . . can make the ordinary extraordinary. XO
ReplyDeleteThis certainly takes me back to decades of working as a nurse and over a decade of personal caregiving. It's an apt description, Bonny, of the tedious chore of witnessing someone's aging struggles.
ReplyDeleteLove this one, Bonny.
ReplyDeleteEsp: "This is the Olympics of rehabilitation."
Tender memories of your MIL, I hope you also have sunnier ones.
Oh boy, does that poem ever capture the feeling of sitting by a hospital bed with a beloved aging relative. Thank you for sharing it, Bonny.
ReplyDeleteI can't even count the days I sat next to my mom and then my dad, knitting in my hands, thinking these very thoughts. There were falls, so many falls. This week I've been exploring biodegradable urns so I can finally float them both off together to the place they asked me to put them. It's only taken me 8 years to be able to let them go. If I wait much longer, my kids will be floating me out with them.
ReplyDeleteI think the experience of sitting by aging relatives with our knitting in our hands is universal to all of us who knit. Those biodegradable urns sound interesting!
DeleteI spent so many days sitting by my dad's various hospital beds ... so many years ago and this poem brings all those memories flooding back. I'm grateful for the time I was able to spend by his side and hope you have some of those grace memories, too. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteKnitting by a bedside is indeed an experience to which most of us can relate. I've been there recently although with easier rehab - at least this time. It's true that hips are easier than knees.
ReplyDeletethe photo you paired with the poem!! I will never forget my dad in ICU and the machines, cords, nurses and beeping.
ReplyDelete