Caregiver's Work

Tracey Martin

Caregiver's Work

Tracey Martin
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Up at seven, the same routines
Change your bottoms, the teapot steams
Check your sugar at the table
Take a deep breath when I am able
Conference calls daily, as I must work
Open mic, of course, just as you burp
Gas now moves, get a running start
My turn to speak; you loudly fart
Horrors!....they must think it is me
I'm a teleworking caregiver, if they could only see
There are no breaks because each minute you consume
Breathe a sigh of relief when your safe in your room
Pray for no falls, accidents, or confusion
Say I am blessed, but is it all an illusion?
I am sad and broken most every day
But you are my mom, so I find a way
Never did you walk away from motherly duty
Giving back what you gave, hopefully with grace and beauty
Commence nighttime routines, I am now pooped
End of day, there is no time to recoup.
If we are lucky, you can sleep through the night
If not, I'll jump at the monitor's light
I'll settle you back in with a rub of your back
And hope that I sleep when I hit the sack.
When the day is done, I must confess
I worry I have failed, you deserve the best
Each day, there is chaos that we struggle to calm
We flipped our roles but you'll always be my mom.

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6 Comments

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Tracey Martin

Mom has a diagnosis of irritable bowel. Flatulence is a big part of her day. I struggled with using the word \"fart\" butt ( pun intended) it is a part of our day. If she isn't tooting as she walks by me every morning as I am on my conference calls or letting it out as I settle her into bed, I know something is wrong.

EllysGdaughter

Thank you for sharing, such a lovely and honest poem!

Denise

This is just fantastic. I love it!

lookingheavenward

Such a beautiful poem - you captured so much!!! Thank you

Jean

You've captured so much --from emotions to duties -- in your poem. Thank you for sharing it.