Are you looking at me?

[Esme12, ASN, BSN, RN]

A friend of mine sent me this and I wanted to share as a gentle reminder for all of us who work in the health care field:

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the ...hospital. One nur...se took her copy to Missouri.

The old man's... sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Assoc. for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? .. . . . . What do you see?

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

A crabby 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 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,

But my woman's 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 . . . . . 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.

'Tis 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 guy 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.

Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet

an older person who you might brush aside

without looking at the young soul within.

[FancypantsRN]

I love this poem. I have read it before and it never fails to bring tears to my eyes. Thank you for posting it. It really does change the way you see people.

[noahsmama]

Couldn't find it on snopes, but did find it on a website called "truth or fiction":

http://www.truthorfiction.com/rumors/c/crabby-old-man.htm

Not a bad poem, but the back story is pure fiction. Here's a link to the poem on the author's website:

http://www.palletmastersworkshop.com/old2.html

BTW, it starts with "What do you see people", not "What do you see, nurses".

[merlee]

Not new, and there is a woman's version as well.

But good to read again! Thanks for posting!

[maelstrom143]

I love reading this poem. I have read it before, but it is a wonderful reminder to all of us what we should already know but sometimes forget in the rush of the day.

[nurseprnRN, BSN, RN]

1) this poem came out in the 70s-- i saw it for the first time in, i think, ajn, when i was in college, and i had a copy over my desk for years.

2) it is often titled "(a) crabbit old woman." it has circulated around the internet for years, decades.

3) it was not found in the belongings of an old lady who died in a nursing home in england/scotland/anywhere else. (and this is the first time i have ever seen it altered and attributed to an old man in nebraska.) it was not given to every nurse in the facility or every nurse graduating from a particular school. it was not brought from scotland/england/wherever to this country/canada/wherever, and as far as i can determine it has not been reproduced as described. the "winging over the internet" i'll give you:).

4) it does not earn money for the resident's activity fund or the british vna or anybody else every time it is sent out.

the poem is called "look closer" and it's by phyllis mccormack.

it gets new life every now and then in this sort of forum as a new generation of students discover it. the reply came from a nurse on the old aol rn board. i hope it gets as much exposure as the original and would welcome genuine attribution.

a crabbit old woman

what do you see, nurse, what do you see?

what are you thinking, looking at me?

a crabbit old woman, not very wise,

uncertain of habit with faraway eyes?

who dribbles her food and makes no reply,

when you say in a loud voice, "i do wish you'd try!"

whe seems not to notice the things that you do,

and forever is losing a stocking or shoe.

who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,

with bathing and feeding the long days 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 and eat at your will.

i'm a small child of ten witha father and mother

brothers and sisters who love one another,

a young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,

dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet,

a bride 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 a secure happy home,

a woman of thirty, my young have grown fast,

bound to each other with ties that should last.

at forty my children are married and gone,

but my man's 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 husband is dead,

i look to the future, i shudder with dread,

for my young are all rearing young of their own,

and i think of the years and the love i have known,

i'm an old woman now, and nature is cruel,

tis its jest to make old age look like a fool,

the body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,

there now is a stone where i once had a heart,

but inside this carcass a young girl 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, nurses, open and see

not a crabbit old woman.. look closer, see me.

"to the 'crabbit old woman' "

what do we see, you ask, what do we see?

yes, we are thinking when looking at thee!

we may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss,

but there's many of you, and too few of us.

we would like far more time to sit by you and talk,

to bathe you and feed you and help you to walk.

to hear of your lives and the things you have done;

your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son.

but time is against us, there's too much to do -

patients too many, and nurses too few.

we grieve when we see you so sad and alone,

with nobody near you, no friends of your own.

we feel all your pain, and know of your fear

that nobody cares now your end is so near.

but nurses are people with feelings as well,

and when we're together you'll often hear tell

of the dearest old gran in the very end bed,

and the lovely old dad, and the things that he said,

we speak with compassion and love, and feel sad

when we think of your lives and the joy that you've had,

when the time has arrived for you to depart,

you leave us behind with an ache in our heart.

when you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care,

there are other old people, and we must be there.

so please understand if we hurry and fuss -

there are many of you, and so few of us.

[sweetnurse63, BSN, RN]

I work with the elderly and I always say "age packs a powerful punch". I often look at their pictures when they were young and I am in blown away by how so many of them use to look like movie stars and so many of them had great careers, some of them were even inventors and well known political figures, but most of all I think about how they were once young but now old with limited or no ability to care for themselves, the residents that are at least somewhat alert, I love to talk to them and make them smile, this makes my day.

[madwife2002, BSN, RN]

Thank you, I had never heard or read this poem

[noahsmama]

1) this poem came out in the 70s-- i saw it for the first time in, i think, ajn, when i was in college, and i had a copy over my desk for years.

2) it is often titled "(a) crabbit old woman." it has circulated around the internet for years, decades.

3) it was not found in the belongings of an old lady who died in a nursing home in england/scotland/anywhere else. (and this is the first time i have ever seen it altered and attributed to an old man in nebraska.) it was not given to every nurse in the facility or every nurse graduating from a particular school. it was not brought from scotland/england/wherever to this country/canada/wherever, and as far as i can determine it has not been reproduced as described. the "winging over the internet" i'll give you:).

4) it does not earn money for the resident's activity fund or the british vna or anybody else every time it is sent out.

the poem is called "look closer" and it's by phyllis mccormack.

it gets new life every now and then in this sort of forum as a new generation of students discover it. the reply came from a nurse on the old aol rn board. i hope it gets as much exposure as the original and would welcome genuine attribution.

.

very interesting, green tea -- thanks for the info.

btw, here's a link to the wikipedia article on this poem:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/crabbit_old_woman

there is a person named david griffith who claims authorship of the male version of the poem, but he presents it as an original work, not a modification of an existing one (unless i missed an attribution on his website somewhere).

[GimiRN]

Thanks for sharing, OP. I have heard this before, but it touched me the same as it did, the very first time I read it. Regardless of the version, the message is still the same for me. It's a reminder of some of the things (and people) we take for granted, and just how quickly times flies.

[SeeTheMoon]

Who gives a ...... when/where it came from.

It is an awesome poem OP thanks for sharing. I have read it before but I think we need to be reminded of this all the time. :)

[46oldnewrn]

It is so important if you work in long term care, that you ask family members to bring in pictures from the past to put on the residents wall in their room. They had a life to just like the life that we lead now. It is so awesome to pictures of them, for me anyway.