Empathy for Patients. Why We All Work to Make Better Hospitals

One source attributes the following poem to a poet in Texas, who claims he wrote it 20 years ago. Recently it has made its way across the Internet as a story about a crabby old man who died in a hospital or nursing home and left this poem behind. That’s how some urban legends grow.

Wherever lies the truth, the poem should speak to all of us working in the healthcare industry — we impact the lives of real people and should be darned proud of reaching out and making life better for every patient.

There’s a real person inside each of us — even the crabby, feeble and sometimes irritating ones!

What do you see nurses?  What do you see?
What are you thinking  . . .  when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice . . .  ‘I do wish you’d try!
Who seems not to notice . . .  the things that you do
And forever is losing . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not   . . .  lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? . . .   Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . you’re not looking at me

I’ll tell you who I am . . .  As I sit here so still
As I do at your bidding  . . . as I eat at your will
I’m a small child of Ten . . . with a father and mother
Brothers and sisters . . .  who love one another

A young boy of Sixteen . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .  a lover he’ll meet
A groom soon at Twenty . . . my heart gives a leap
Remembering, the vows . . . that I promised to keep

At Twenty-Five, now . . .  I have young of my own
Who need me to guide . . . .And a secure happy home
A man of Thirty . . . My young now grown fast
Bound to each other . . . With ties that should last

At Forty, my young sons . . . have grown and are gone
But my woman’s beside me . . . to see I don’t mourn
At Fifty, once more . .  . Babies play ’round my knee
Again, we know children . . . My loved one and me .

Dark days are upon me . . . My wife is now dead
I look at the future . . .  I shudder with dread
For my young are all rearing . . . young of their own
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known

I’m now an old man . . . . . . . . . and nature is cruel
Tis jest to make old age . . . .. . . .look like a fool
The body, it crumbles . . . grace and vigor, depart
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart

But inside this old carcass . . . A young guy still dwells
And now and again . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . .  . I remember the pain
And I’m loving and living . . . life over again

I think of the years . all too few . . . gone too fast
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last
So open your eyes, people . . . open and see
Not a crabby old man . . .   Look closer . . . see ME!

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Filed Under: Patient Experience