Wednesday 23 May 2007

Mary

Mary is a friend of mine. I met her originally when I ran a cleaning business and she was my customer. I did not instantly take a liking to her.

When she rang me in the first place, I had trouble getting to the bottom of what she wanted. Most people would say something like... "It's a three bedroomed semi. I work all hours and I want someone in twice a week for a couple of hours". Or they might say "Polish all the brass and change the bed linen".

Mary couldn't tell me what she wanted; only that she was "in a mess".

When I went to visit her I found the problem. She was in her eighties, a near cripple; almost but not quite in a wheelchair, and had been in bed ill for weeks with a skin complaint and dreadful arthritis. She had no family, and two cats and a dog that had not been able to get in and out of the house properly....with all the attendant consequences......

She had lived in bed and because she could barely walk had lived on microwave meals and just thrown the rubbish and wrappers over the end of the bed.

She was a bit of a challenge.

However, I did take on the job and I quickly learned to like her, very much so. Although her body had packed up her, she was undefeated and fighting all the way. She refuses to be spoken down to. She refused to give up her pets until she finally went into sheltered accomodation, and then she took the cats back again when she came out again only a couple of months later. She hated the condescending attitude of the nurses/carers in the home and wanted her independence back. (Her dog I managed to rehome with a friend of mine who, like me, is a serial dog resuer. Paddy is having a great time living with five other dogs).

Although it is a job that I am absolutely not cut out for, I became for a while almost her carer, simply doing my best to be arms and legs for her.

She now lives in a two up, two down terrace in Lancashire, is completely in her wheelchair and is one of the finest people I know.



Mary.

I see you, in your chair,
Imprisoned in your body.

Yours fingers swollen and your arms twisted,
Where the pain gnaws you.

Teeth, brown stumps.

And your raucous laughter when,
Through your deafness,
You get the joke.

But, I also see,

The traces remaining
Of the luminous beauty you were.

Celtic skin, still clear and pale.
Fine straight hair, now white, once copper.

And your still glorious eyes.
Blue-grey and sharp.

I see, not only the old woman before me,

Not just the young woman you were,

But the young lass, who,
Somewhere in there,

You still are.