A MAN THAT

A MAN THAT

A poem, inspired by living with dementia

By Kevin Bonfield

 

A man that can no
longer tell the time nor know
which day will be coming
next

Opens the top of a
carrier bag and
shows us an alarm
clock and a diary

A man whose long and
short term memory crackles
and sometimes
cackles

Opens the top of a
carrier bag and
shows us a shaver
and a camera

“They’ve told me I can’t be there”
A man who feels no
hot, nor time of day
but always hungers

For something sweet
A bit of music
Anything smooooth
with ketchup

“It’s the kids they can change it”
A man who hides
his remote control
in a plastic tub

Is told by voices
To move himself
and his worldly goods
The bedroom is now closed

Above The Line

ABOVE THE LINE
a poem by Kevin Bonfield (part of my dementia inspired collection)
Highlight, in bright pink, the chosen pictures
And trace the words below. Smooth.
Only, what’s this? Something about dates
Dates, what about dates, hang on, dates
I remember them. I think.
It has somehow changed, I wanted the chairs
The ones that turn, yes I definitely yearn
For those turning chairs.
Yet on here, it’s something about dates
Dates? dates? choosing dates. Not DATES!
I didn’t want them. I know.
I’ve highlighted. In bright pink. the chairs.
But it doesn’t say so. Only chairs.
It’s no wonder people explode. More and
More confusion, wanting chairs that turn.
But getting dates. Young people laughing.
But I highlighted it. I think.
Above the line, bright pink, above the line
Above the? Hang on, let me see that.
“You need to highlight below the line”
And yet they keep telling me he’s fine.
I wanted THIS! the chairs that turn!
I know the time. Don’t I?
Learning how to tell a man his pink
Highlights are above the line, not below
That that is why he’s got dates, not chairs
Not belittling, not patronising, not hurrying
Not controlling, not demoralising, but guiding
Take the lead. Highlight his fears.

Long May You Run

quietly sobbing, until I was airlifted

You know the guy, gets a taxi from the front door to the taxi to the shop at the bottom of the road. I always have a ridiculous smug air about just how active I am by comparison.

ME???? oh yeah, I’m just soooooo healthy.

And then I got injured (did I mention I’d completed a 50 mile ultra, most if it on a fooked ankle??? Read the blog HERE)

Not so smug now as I limp from car to sofa! AND, quite suddenly, EVERYONE seems to be running.

Oh yes, Mr taxi (who’s dog is on the sofa in the garden) is out there now, that work colleague who says “running is bad for your knees”, the guy I used to play football with who reckoned running doesn’t get him any fitter, the streets and parks are crammed with people who HAVEN’T got a fooked ankle!!

I’m sure even Charlie was online ordering two tiny pairs of Nike Zooms.

At work today, the neighbour of the house I’m working on trots out with her drinks bottle and sparkly running kicks. “Good morning, just off for a run!”……

12 days without running and it’s starting to niggle at me….. I met a guy at the Dartmoor 3-in-1 who has been side lined since January and really didn’t know when he’d be back. So I’m just grateful that my lay off will be (hopefully) relatively short.

2017-10-07 20.03.12Progress is good with the injured ankle. When I elected to carry on (several times) during the race, I made a deal with myself that I have to accept the consequences potentially being more severe than if I’d have stayed on that rock, quietly sobbing until I was airlifted to an icepack.

But, I decided that if I possibly could I would finish, you never know if and when these opportunities might come along again.

So, days 1 to 6 I didn’t don any footwear other than flip-flops. Then, a loose trainer for short walks with the dog for a few days and after about a week I tentatively drove. Back to work on Monday (9 days in) and, I can’t pretend it hasn’t been uncomfortable and really quite throbbing by the time I’ve driven home. The swelling has pretty much gone and the tender areas are easy to locate with a gentle prod. OW!!

2017-10-18 19.29.17So, these peas have been defrosted a few times this last week!!

I put the bones of a short story together whilst I was immobilised. I spent some time with Frank (my father-in-law), wrote a couple of poems and put some more meat on the bones of the ‘map’ of my book. I read a lot and produced a couple of blog posts.

I often ask people what they would do if they could get paid to do something they loved doing. Not be a millionaire, but get paid an ordinary wage for their favourite hobby.

Truly, a writer I would be.

If you’d like to see my other writings, there’s a few short stories and poems over at my other blog HERE!

 

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