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Monday, 22 May 2017

Poetry Monday. Sort Of.

My mom-care duties racheted up another notch or two over the weekend. Even though my mom's original infection is cleared up, she is having a lot of anxiety about her health because (a) she is 87 and has been very healthy all her life, so she isn't used to being sick nor is she used to the tiredness that follows illness (b) she's still not processing things entirely well (c) she is having new symptoms, unrelated to the old symptoms and (d) it's a holiday weekend so her doctor won't be in until Tuesday and that feels like months to her, given (a) through (c).

It was impossible to completely dismiss the new symptoms, since I am not a nurse, or a doctor, or even a veterinarian, so off we went to the ER, twice more, over the weekend. (The end result: paperwork has been started for a specialist appointment, which I suspect was more a means of getting her to stop going to the ER than a necessity or a solution, and which will -- if history is any indication -- cause a flurry of new worries by my mom, plus a car trip either two hours in one direction or three hours in the opposite direction.)

*bangs head slowly but forcefully on desk*

And my work deadline, which was extended by one week, is now coming at me like an eighteen-wheeler on the freeway.

*lays head on desk and cries a single, futile tear*

But!! I rallied long enough to write a poem.

Here it is.

Donkey Lament On A Holiday Weekend With No Holiday In It

I'm tired and stressed and full of frustration.
I need a stiff drink and a two week vacation.


*****
I didn't say it was a long poem.

Or a good one.

*****

I leave you with this other bit of verse and a sweet little face:



May your week have some good beverages and/or some cute in it.

P. S. At least our weather is back to cool and comfortable! That's one less stress for me!

*lifts head off desk and feels she may live after all*


Poetry Monday can also be enjoyed at these fine blog sites: Diane's HERE, and Delores' HERE ... join in if you like! Leave your poem in the comments at any of our blogs, or leave a link to your blog so we can find you.



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42 comments:

  1. Elephant's Child22 May 2017 at 01:47

    Heartfelt hugs and oceans of caring.
    And thank you for the cute.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yorkshire Pudding22 May 2017 at 06:17

    Rain

    All through that night
    And into the following day
    It rained.
    We tried to shelter
    In the lee of trees
    By the crossroads
    Where we used to play -
    Fine at first
    The droplets grew,
    Plothering from oak leaves
    Under that leaden sky
    Till sodden the verges
    And the old road
    Be-puddled
    Muttering rivulets
    Flowed down Harrison's Hill
    Gurgling to gutters
    Replete with water
    While wet as fish
    We splashed home
    In the endless rain,
    The endless
    Rain.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:49

      I enjoyed this one, YP! And learned a new word, "plothering" ... and found a website with "five of the best British expressions" for rain: https://www.ft.com/content/fa10f7a8-995d-11e3-b3a2-00144feab7de for anyone else who'd like to check it out. Thanks for joining in with your poem.

      Delete
  3. Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybe22 May 2017 at 09:29

    Frustration. pain, and deadlines
    often cause
    much pressure on our minds

    ReplyDelete
  4. Steve Reed22 May 2017 at 10:02

    Oh, yikes. I hope your mom is OK in the long run. It must be scary to be older and having uncertain health. I feel like I'm getting glimmers of this now and then, and I'm only 50! I like the cat in the background of that photo, watching from the couch. She's like, "Hey! I want a Solo cup too!"

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:51

      That would be a very large Solo cup! You made me look at that creature a second time - I thought it was a dog all along!

      Yeah, I'm seeing the downward spiral of not just my mom but myself. The signs are there if we choose not to ignore them. But what's the saying? the day we're born we start to die ...

      What? That's not a saying? It should be.

      Delete
  5. only slightly confused22 May 2017 at 10:17

    It may be a short poem but it is a heartfelt one. It's not easy being part of the 'sandwich' generation.......hang in there.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:52

      Straight from my heart. And my tear-making place. Thanks, Delores.

      Delete
  6. Chicken22 May 2017 at 10:37

    Hang in there Donkey. Hope things are looking up for your mom soon.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:53

      Thank you, Chicken. Me too. I worry that this is the new normal - for now.

      Delete
  7. Red22 May 2017 at 10:49

    Looking after elderly parents can be very stressful. I hope your Mother recuperates rapidly.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:53

      Thanks, Red. I'm lucky to have had her so long, in relatively good health. It's hard to see her struggle.

      Delete
  8. Jono22 May 2017 at 12:13

    It really IS a good poem! I'll even argue the point.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:54

      Well ... at least a person doesn't get worn out just reading it! Er ... unlike some others I've written.

      Delete
  9. Martha22 May 2017 at 12:30

    Sorry to hear about your mom. Sounds like quite a lot of stress on your end. I hope you are finding time to unwind and be good to yourself. I enjoyed your poem, by the way. Short and sweet. Those are often the best :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:55

      Ogden Nash perfected the short poem, and he's famous!

      And there the analogy ends :)

      Delete
  10. Janie Junebug22 May 2017 at 14:09

    You can get a stiff drink at my house, according to Penelope, who continues to insist that I'm always drunk. In spite of my inebriated state, I love your poem (I had two drinks total in 2016 and zero so far this year; that damn dog is a liar).

    Love,
    Janie

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 14:56

      Your drinks total is very similar to my own. You're going to need to lock that computer up when you're not around, Janie :)

      Delete
  11. dinthebeast22 May 2017 at 16:37

    I'm not feeling particularly poetic this morning, so good luck with helping your mom, and thanks for the kitten-in-a-cup.

    -Doug in Oakland

    ReplyDelete
  12. Anonymous22 May 2017 at 18:36

    Hallo Jenny, I hope your mother gets better soon. Ailing parents do pull at our heart strings don't they?

    Anyway this is my contribution to Poetry Monday. It's one of the first things I wrote for my grand-daughter. She was four at the time and wanted puzzles and jokey things, so I composed this.

    "OLLY"

    Good golly, Miss Molly,
    You do look rather jolly,
    With your collie dog and brolly,
    Eating your ice-cream lolly.

    It would be a terrible folly,
    And Molly wouldn't be so jolly,
    If she gave her dolly called Holly,
    To her pet parrot Polly.

    I wrote down a list of all the words I could think of ending in "olly" and told her to point out the word I hadn't used. This is the list -

    Brolly Collie Dolly
    Folly Golly Holly
    Jolly Lolly Molly
    Polly TROLLEY

    Joan (Wales)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 23:41

      What a lovely activity for a little one. I shall have to remember this as I see little relatives now and then. Thanks for contributing, Joan.

      Delete
    2. dinthebeast23 May 2017 at 17:42

      That reminds me of a Ken Kesey poem, from his book "Demon Box" I believe:

      DEATH VALLEY DOLLY

      On a barstool in Barstow I met her

      In Kingman I quelled all her qualms

      In Phoenix I fought to forget her

      To the clapping of 29 Palms

      Oh, Molly, my Death Valley dolly,

      You're gone, by golly, you're gone.

      Where the roadrunners run from the coyote sun

      My fierce little falcon is flown.

      Eating noodles in Needles she caught me

      With a Nogales gal on my knee,

      So while brawling in Brawley she shot me

      Then jumped in the sour Salton Sea

      Oh, Molly, my Death Valley dolly

      You're gone, by golly you're dead

      Where the scorpions hide and the sidewinders slide

      You lie in your alkali bed.


      Those are all place-name references to Southern California and the Southwest.

      -Doug in Oakland

      Delete
    3. Yorkshire Pudding24 May 2017 at 06:21

      At first I thought this poem was by Dylan Thomas but that was pure folly.

      Delete
    4. jenny_o24 May 2017 at 14:02

      That is a great poem, Doug! Reminds me of yet another poem (actually a song) - I've Been Everywhere by an Australian, then adapted for other countries including for the US by Hank Snow. It's his version I grew up with :)

      Delete
  13. e22 May 2017 at 20:35

    I'm sorry for the situation with your mother and understand your frustration, and some of hers. I hope things get better for you both. Hugs!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 23:42

      Thank you so much, e. I'm sure it will work out; it's just the in-between that is hard.

      Delete
  14. jenny_o22 May 2017 at 23:40

    :)

    ReplyDelete
  15. Lovenicky23 May 2017 at 18:09

    I'm so sorry that you and your mom have to cope with all this stress, on top of your work stress. I hope things will get cleared up soon. Sending you and your mom positive thoughts!! :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o24 May 2017 at 13:58

      Thank you, Nicky. Positive thoughts are always welcome!

      Delete
  16. Diane Henders25 May 2017 at 01:51

    What a sucky week! I hope things shape up for you soon. (And thanks for the cupful of cute!) :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o25 May 2017 at 14:52

      This week is not turning out much differently ... soon, soon, I hope. Thanks for the good thoughts, Diane.

      Delete
  17. 37paddington25 May 2017 at 11:03

    So sorry to hear about your mom's health challenges. It's so hard when our parents are ailing. We want so much to make everything good for them, to right their world. I know you will do everything you can. I do hope you have some reliable stress relief. And I love your short, perfect poem!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o25 May 2017 at 14:54

      Thanks, Angella. You know all too well about these things. My husband is an excellent listening ear and will help however he can. Blogland is a helpful relief valve as well. It takes me away from myself for awhile. But some days there just is not enough time or energy for the demands from all directions. Those are the days that are hard.

      Delete
  18. Mr. Shife25 May 2017 at 18:54

    Love the poem, the photo, and your update. Hope things have gotten a little better over the week. Take care.

    ReplyDelete
  19. Geo.25 May 2017 at 20:27

    O_Jenny, I have been seeing specialists too and it's rough even though I'm 20 years younger than your mother. The tension of of waiting, traveling, anticipating alarming news is enough to give even young healthy people the permanent jumps. A "stiff drink and two week vacation" sound well-called-for. You are your mother's stabilizer now, and you are being brave. Who taught you to be brave?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o25 May 2017 at 23:04

      I'm not brave, just doing what needs done, which - yes - I learned from my parents. I do understand my mom's anxiety because I get anxious too. I don't actually drink but I am tempted to start.

      Just kidding! I did enough of it in university to know that I don't like hangovers :)

      Delete

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