A Resident’s Poem – “In a Care Home”

IN A CARE HOME

I don’t know how it came to be
Of a sudden there was me,
Surrounded by the family helping with the turning out of 215.
I’m packing up my memories
And leaving space
For other folk to take my place and
Live here happily.

Angie and her team await,
There to meet me at the gate,
Of Cambridgeshire Care Home.
Show me to my spacious pad,
Which kind family have clad,
With favourite things they knew I had.

Reception opens up its doors,
Hoping to receive applause
From visitors.
Office also opens wide
Ready to receive inside,
Our queries.

Devina, Vicky start the day sending carers on their way to get us up,
For breakfast.

Rob is running all around
Making sure that things are sound.
Richards flitting here and there
Putting up a good repair.

Valentina makes no fuss,
Bringing laundry clean to us.
Folded neatly into drawers,
While lady helpers mop the floors.

Kevin’s kitchen opens up,
Making lovely food to sup.
Renata at the breakfast bar,
Waits to hand out flakes and char
And other fancied items.

Barry and his team arrive,
To bring us pills that will survive,
Maybe keep some folks alive!

Valda weekly programme makes,
To entertain and activate.
She and lady help Michelle exercise us – bloody hell! Even in our wheelchairs.
After which we all retire
To the bistro to perspire and drink our coffee.
Now I find I fill my mind,
With actions of a different kind.
Bowls and skittles fill the floor,
Games of scrabble (I adore).
Rummikub and cards galore are waiting on the table.
Banjo man and other hits,
Are booked to bring us music.

Monthly service does us good,
Leading us in hymns and prayers,
Is Rev Simon from the neighbourhood.

Tuesday is our Maxine’s day,
Making nails look trim and gay,
With polish.

Thursday we’re in Janet’s chair,
While she glamourizes hair and some of gent’s refinements.

Dermot, Becki come for pats,
We enjoy – their owner’s chats.

Nursery school are on the way,
I wonder what they’ll sing today?
Little Tea Pot, Wheels on Bus
Or maybe crayons are a must.

Lovely gardens to enjoy,
Tended to by a man and boy.
Patios are full of pots,
Hope there’s some ‘Forget me knots’.
Trough’s and green house standing there,
Waiting for us to prepare.
Seeds and plants for growing.

Cinema is there to view,
Showing us a film or two
If you so desire.
If all this becomes a bore,
Visitors may knock the door
And make our day.

Kindly medics coming by
To hand out pills that satisfy,
And maybe cure all ills.

Night shift staff are turning up,
Bringing us a welcome cup
And maybe they will tuck us up.
They call me trouble
I don’t know why!
I only like to joke and puzzle,
Maybe I do need a muzzle.

So all in all as you can see,
There is you and here is me,
Enjoying prepaid luxury,
In a care home.
The end

By Jean Turner, aged 95
One of Cambridgeshire Care Home’s Residents


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