Posted by susan47 on June 24, 2006, at 16:46:46
In reply to Hey., posted by susan47 on May 29, 2006, at 12:44:52
Fully capable, if she wished, of getting up, out of the chair,
but No.
She slouches back in the overlarge wheelchair, the pads of her purple swollen feet just touching the floor, 300 pounds of inert flesh hanging on a frame of bone rapidly crumbling under the weight of abuse ... she says you laugh at me, but it isn't funny, if you knew how I felt, how I feel is horrible, not funny at all ...
all day.
She sits here, there, anywhere, in the hall, wanting someone ... wanting to engage, to be fierce, to be whole, to be in charge and in control ... but no, not really wanting this at all, the sickness wants someone to come and change her diaper.
She says, there's a foul-smelling liquid coming out of my body, can someone come help me with the commode, can someone change me, I feel sick, I don't feel well at all.
They're putting me away, I want Arnie to know what's going on, where is Arnie, has anyone seen him, why isn't he in on this? He's the only one who can help me right now, why isn't anyone helping me?
I feel so helpless, I can't even get up out of this chair, why is no one around, where is everyone?
Why won't the doctor talk to me, why won't he come and see me? I want Arnie in on this.
Arnie is the only one who can help me.
I can't do this anymore.
I feel so helpless.Edith was once a social worker, I've heard.
She was capable, they say.
She is intelligent.
The light is there, in her eyes.
She has a sense of humour.
Always on the lookout for lies though ...
For Edith, everything
Everything
has become a lie.
There is no person who would ever
care for her.
She wouldn't allow it.
She was the sponge ...
picking up the sick, the crazy,
the wounded ...
Now she is forever changed.I see
this mass of pale, dry, withering flesh
Atrophied brain, despair incarnate ...
Once upon a time her desire
was not only to be whole,
but to help make others whole.
Now her life is built upon suspicion
her purpose ... to knock down walls of deceit,
deceit which only she sees ...
but which is there, all the same.
Necessary. Necessary deceit, Edith.
For your own good.
Because we care, and we can only do this ...
What we are taught to do.
Let my heart touch yours, Edith,
here,
allow me to help you with your sweater.
Let my eyes not deceive you ...
Let my voice give you only comfort.
poster:susan47
thread:648899
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20060523/msgs/661045.html