Hospitality & Parkinson’s

Photo borrowed from Flickr

A Nervous System

There is a spot in town we go
As often as we can, we show;
Next of kin sleeps sound inside,
And no place other can he bide.

Its walls are cold and old the paint
Sweet smell of death the air doth taint;
Youth and age yet haunt the halls,
Where maids of mercy answer calls.

In tiny rooms, or depths of drapes
The barest breath of life escapes;
Cancer lies in wing and ward,
Where broken bargain with their Lord.

And yet the fools still smoking are
Hooked up to lines, they can’t go far;
Burgled beds left warm to wait
‘Til once more patient falls prostrate.

Inside he lies with bed-wound deep
We stand and watch him in his sleep;
Dopamine, the brain invades,
As slowly, sure his flower fades.

He waits – we wait to learn his place
Where next he goes to end the race;
Close his days in care-filled home,
Before he reach the Pleasure Dome.

Kathleen Mortensen ©2008

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15 thoughts on “Hospitality & Parkinson’s

  1. I have not had time to visit your for a while and so it is with empathy that I read your recent postings and this really powerful poem. My mom also suffered from Parkinson's and I understand a little of what you write about. Fortunately, she was able to care for herself in a protected enviroment. I left a little prize for you on my blog, but realise it may not be what you feel like at the present time. Anyhow just so that you know you and your unusual blog and your writing talent is appreciated. Blessings, Eleanor

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  2. Hi KatThat was beautiful…must have been difficult to write down. You've been on my mind a lot. I wish I had some words of wisdom or advice that could help with what you are going through but I don't. I can only tell you that I'm here if you need me.

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  3. The rhyme and rhythm of these stanzas sharply contrast the difficulty of the circumstances, and bring them all into high relief. Poetry can comfort as well as celebrate; I wish all of you well as you move though this journey.

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  4. I am so saddened to learn your father has had to cope with Parkinsons and dementia. I know full well what a debilitating illness Parkinsons is, as my mother in law suffers from the same and is now in a wheelchair and finds life very difficult. Another beautifully written poem Kat. I appreciate you sharing these thoughts with us. x

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  5. Thanks, Willow. Can you tell I've been reading Coleridge?Thanks, Claire. I appreciate your thoughts.Eleanor, Parkinson's is one cruel disease – killing off the brain cells and all the faculties with it. It's a slow and debilitating decline that is so hard to witness. I'm so sorry about your Mom.Michelle, Give me a call sometime when you get a minute.JenX – Thanks for your nice words. I enjoy your gifts as well.Museswings – there is a comfort in knowing that others have experienced the same thing – although that's sad in its own way too.Ken, Your comments always mean so much, especially since men are few and far between around here.Stevie – I'll take all the hugs I can get. Thank you.Thanks, Deb. I appreciate your sincerity.Sandy, So sad about Vyolet. I will pray for her.Mizmell – well, we must have hope that there's a better place after all.This is my patch – so, you totally understand the grip of this formidable disease. My father is also stricken with dementia as the result of a head injury in 1984. Colleen, coming from you, I take that as a very high compliment.Kat

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  6. Oh Kat I'm so sorry to read about your Dad! I had to sleuth around to understand people's posts. I can really empathize. I love the love your beautiful poem with its “stately” reference and I love Coleridge. I've just ripped a picture off the wall that I'll scan and email to you.

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