I don’t especially like the following poem (whose author is unknown to me)…
Perhaps at the end stage of dementia when I am dying, I’ll change my mind.
In the meantime, the best of me has not yet gone but still to come
Even if I am changing!
My response to this poem is below.
Sometimes I can remember
Often, I can understand
Resting makes me worse
Of course kiss me if you are my friend, but I may not want to hold your hand
I am not confused beyond my concept, maybe only yours
No, not sad, sick or lost either (well, not all the time)
I can still be independent some of the time, if I am provided with disability support
Of course, I would appreciate you not losing your patience with me, now or even if I didn’t have dementia
If you scold or curse me, except a challenging behaviour (with or without dementia)
Sometimes I am acting as a direct response to how you are treating me or speaking to me; try changing
I need you, and hope you need me too if you love me
Not standing beside me is not failing me, it is failing you
Love each other until our lives are done