SHE GREETED ME
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Hawk Queen Bed 4:25am
She greeted Me in ruffled satin
lavender and sleeveless
as She signed Her Self out
so We could sit outside
looking at the harbour
with tea and coffee
and the blue sky
where a flock of geese flew in V formation —
She pointed to where She had been injected
on Her Hip
for a thirty-day stint
of a medication She could not pronounce
and mentioned how The Head Psychiatrist
had called Her Name
and asked Her if She had worked
on a puzzle today —
back inside
She ate pink salmon and dill
for supper
and pointed to Her Self-cut Hair-do
Her Raven Hair
to say the fish was good
for Her Brain —
an oral dose of Seroquel
was brought to Her at the table
and My Beautiful Friend
choked it down
while The Nurse said
“It’s Your After Dinner
Mint.”
So very poignant… And beautifully written.
Thank you, but its so sad I couldn’t sleep last night until I wrote it and then I had a terrible nightmare that I was about to be taken back to the hospital against my will. I am never going back there, even to visit a friend.
Joanna, I know of that sadness. Your poem made me think of my mom (who passed away in March). She had Alzheimer’s and the last two years it was awful. A harsh reality, even though everyone around her was doing their best to care for her…. I’m sorry to hear about your own experience at the hospital and hope you slept better last night. Take care.
Thank you Betty — I slept fine last night — still on Ativan though — and I hope to sleep well enough tonight to take my daughter Eliza to the airport tomorrow, almost four hours away. I think Alzheimer’s is the LITERAL losing of The Mind, and I think it must be absolutely terrifying.