Cranky Old Man What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see? What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me? A cranky 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 is 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. It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool. The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart. There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass . A young man 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 cranky old man . Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!! Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!
This poem has been around since 1966 when it was written by Phyllis McCormack, who was a nurse in a geriatric hospital in Montrose, Scotland. She wrote it as a competition entry in a nursing magazine and submitted it anonymously, as she was worried that it might have seemed critical of some of her nursing colleagues. Many myths have arisen about this work since, particularly as Mrs. McCormack lent a copy of it to an old lady in Ashludie Hospital in Dundee. The old lady copied it out, and when she died it was found amongst her belongings. As it was in her own handwriting the staff at the hospital assumed that she was the creator of the work, but it was subsequently proved otherwise. The version quoted above is a variation, since the original was written about an old woman. Sometimes it is referred to as "Look closer Nurse" but more accurately it is called "Crabbit Old Woman", as that is one of the first lines of the original poem, crabbit being Scottish slang for grumpy. I was given a copy of the original when I was stationed in Dundee in '77.
