My sense of humor
A saving grace
As life changes
Before my eyes
What used to be
A woman feared
Now a nearly emptied
Shell of humanity.
The simplest chore
No longer possible;
To stand alone
A dream removed
Shaky legs and
Trembling hands
A mind lost in the mire
Of swampy thoughts.

Even a simple trip
Turns into a nightmare
Commands to stand
Or turn uncomprehended
And she ends up
Face down on a van seat
Being held by a waistband
While help is sought.
The irony is what so many times
She did to unto others
Without mercy myself included
But fate was good
She was unhurt and protected.
An end to bad karma?

Still what a way for life to end
Yet the humor does not escape
What a position to be in,
Lost on her but laugh I must
Or the strength to continue
To fight faceless demons
Of senile dementia and schizophrenia
Adding to what was an
Already addled brain.

How once as a child
Helpless are clothed
Washed, fed and sheltered
How many think someday
On a caretakers mercy
We fall or are held
By a thin band of cloth
Like a puppy on a leash
To endure another of the
Indignities of aging

Laura R
4-25-03