Old Age Come To Us All But Dementia Comes To Many As This Poem Evades The Onslaught Poem by Reginald Reid

THE ROAD TO DEMENTIA

I'm on the road to Dementia
a town I thought was far, far away.
If I can, I'll just take a side road
As I really don't want to go there today.

They say my short- term memory's failing.
It's not true as far as I can recall.
But I have to accept they're speaking more softly
and the lights are much dimmer, that's all.

There are words and names that elude me,
but last week I knew them quite well.
They confuse and frustrate a little,
it's an occasion to send them to hell.

Now we won't mention physical activity.
Regular, I walk out to my special lounge chair.
I'm doing all right, but the time my heart had stopped beating,
It gave them a bit of a scare.

I tell those young children doctors, 'no don't you worry about me'.
They ask such silly questions about what day and date it is,
who's the prime minister, and can I count backwards in threes.
Well if they don't know the answers how can they be doctors?

I know my visitors are really infrequent,
but they point to some book where they show
that they came along very recently.
Well, that's alright for them, but the truth I really know.




Diversional therapy's needed,
'we'll get some for you today'.
It's just like going to school again
with new games they ask us to play.

In a bus they take us for an outing
It's like being in a goldfish's bowl
Some, on occasion, are heard shouting
Help! Get me out of this hole.

I've discovered a turn off from this road that I'm travelling,
The sign post says 'To Havefunabit' and now I'm going that way.
In this new direction behaviour is unravelling
and there's a lot more restriction these days.

I believe that it's called being radical,
non conformist, a new sort of ill.
Breaking out in spontaneous behaviour is not very welcomed.
The answer they respond with, is to give a new sort of pill.

I'd rather be home again
alone in my own special space.
I've got my own wheelie walker
and there are rails all over the place.

In my own place I could get meals and assistance.
The phone's not too hard to use.
I could potter out there in my garden
and that man on the TV abuse.

I'm on the road to Dementia it seems.
Despite the occasional diversion
I sleep a lot and have vivid dreams,
and such is life's great excursion.