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To whom it make concern,

I've never been known for my attention span;

in fact my husband thinks I'm gormless,

one story at a time;

 

in a forgetful kind of way.

I'm trying to keep things in the front of my mind

and I've only left the gas on a couple of times

so far, that I'm aware of today.

 

Now it just so happens that I spent a good chunk of my life

working as a nurse in elderly care,

I'm under no illusions as to what's waiting when it gets there,

 

So I’d thought I’d better write this letter

for later on in my dementia,

and if you’re the sorry sod who's reading it,

then my arse is your career.

 

I have half a sugar in my tea

and I’m very partial to custard.

I can’t abide fisherman’s pie,

especially if it’s pre-digested.

 

You can swear in front of me and I won’t mind;

and don’t worry if you’re careless now and again,

as long as you’re gentle and kind.

You can even take the piss a little if you like,

‘cause I’ll be giving you plenty of mine;

 

But don’t treat me like an embarrassment

even when I’m embarrassing,

and clap your hands when you see me singing.

 

and don’t worry about being a brilliant nurse.

change the other people first.

 

and every pore in his body is going to want to stay with me;

and although he'll be full of anger and pride,

so try and involve him with everything as much as you can

because he does try his best and he's only a man.

 

I hope I can make you smile as my senses slide,

and I hope that I'm a model patient.

 

so I can decompose with a modicum of dignity;

and if you have an ounce of compassion,

try and slip me the occasional whiskey.

 

I hope someone does the same for you.