BILLY BOY
(26/3/2005)
Always a small wave from you, Billy Boy,
Bed to bed, a toothless smile from you to me.
Always said that I stood by you
In times of trouble and stress
When you couldn’t eat
Wouldn’t dress, nor sit in a chair
For your breakfast, Billy Boy;
That nurse yelled at you, Billy Boy,
For hurting her with your grip
And she punished you by yelling
Not bothering to read your notes
Otherwise she would have known
And not bothered you,
You who suffered from slight Parkinson’s,
(Though you thought it was rheumatism)
And dementia.
In more lucid moments, Billy Boy,
When the darkness of depression
Had not covered you in its shroud,
The physios kidded you about
The football you used to play
And got you to stand up and shuffle,
Knees bent, using a walking frame
Whilst they followed close behind,
Like circus clowns, with a chair
So you wouldn’t fall.
I used to smile when you secretly
Got into bed like a naughty schoolboy
Curling up underneath the sheets
When the nurses weren’t looking.
‘Good on you, Billy Boy, good on you’.
But when the darkness held you
And you cried out to an unseen boss
That you were ‘too old at 83
To get up and go to work’, you said,
And you’d mumble the whole night through
Forgetting that you could pee unimpeded
And not wet the bed, catheter attached,
Then ask for a pair of scissors to cut it free:
That tube to your bladder.
You’d ask to go to your room
Forgetting that you were in hospital
And not the nursing home!
I knew you were on the brink
Of some disaster not of your own making.
But you were just old, Billy Boy,
Old and worn out and crying for freedom!
It was no sin just getting old, for Christ’s sake!
The grey light of dawn crept in
And spread its light over the ward:
A night of mumbling and no sleep,
Your face ashen, the colour of the sky;
They brought you oxygen, wired you up
To a machine to monitor your heart,
Screens and nurses flying!
I was going home, Billy Boy,
I was to be set free!
Tears streaked my face,
A nurse brought me a cup of tea and a hankie:
“It hurts when you get too close to them,” she said
And she smiled, her compassion making it worse.
They took Billy Boy to Bangor*.
“Your bed will be ready for you, Billy, when you return”
They said,
“When you return,” they said, “When you return!”
* Bangor Hospital.
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