SENIOR HELPING AIDS

 

I invite you to come into

the world of Senior Living,

to walk along a pathway

that winds through a Senior’s mind.

Let us consider helping-aids.

You ask me, why?

Think about it, I reply.

Because these are the things

upon which Seniors rely,

a cane, a walker,

a hearing aid,

a threadmill, many pills.

The Seniors require them,

to walk, to be, to hear, to see.

The Seniors need not lean on others,

but lean on helping-aids instead,

from the time they get out of bed.

These ‘friends’ give the Seniors

a sense of self-sufficiency.

That’s why.

 

© Norman Molesko, 2010

 

 

 

THE POWER OF THE CANE

 

To walk can be hard without a cane 

for some who are in pain or lame. 

When I walk I can use my cane,  

but not on the pain or lame siide. 

My good leg moves forward. 

The cane holding hand guides the cane. 

Then my bad leg steps ahead,

recycling momentum again. 

If I begin to trip at all,

the cane can save me from a fall.

It aids when picking up a ball.

I even feel secure in a mall. 

The cane improves my endurance.

I am more stable and balanced.

In crowds I navigate faster.

It helps me be my own master.

 

          That’s the way it is for many,

         to move one’s body with a cane.

           Less shakiness, less faltering to endure.

          A cane can make one more sure.

 

    © Norman Molesko, 2008

 

 

 

 

A HEARING AID THAT CARES

 

Little hearing aid

in my outer ear,

you penetrate my isolation,

dissipate my despair,

interrupt my social hide and seek.

You show me that you care.

You don’t let me experience

all listening difficulties as before.

You now provide me the way

to amplify sounds unforeseen

toward my sensitive inner ear.

I can distinguish more words and hear.

I don’t have to freak out when many speak

in a voice moderate or a little weak.

Little hearing aid, you really do care.

You corrected some hearing loss

and improved my bad ear.

Many people I can now hear,

as they speak in a non-noisy somewhere.

Their thoughts, their feelings are audible.

I don’t have to shrug or guess.

I can understand. I can share.

 

© Norman Molesko, 2008

 

 

ON THE TREADMILL

 

I stretch. I warm up.

I chat to my machine, my friend.

I set my walking speed. And reset.

Need more speed. Some more.

To mend, to strengthen. I sing,

Go higher. Go higher. Go higher.

   I’m on fire.

Go higher. Go higher. Go higher.

   I’m working harder.

Go higher. Go higher. Go higher.

My numbers are increasing for the better.

My body wants it faster.

Increase the elevation, elevate the speed. 

Then I feel twinges in the middle of my chest.

Is it my heart or another muscle in arrest?

   Go moderate. Go lower.

My mind tells me slower.

I have been easily carried away

 by too much momentum.

 I realize I have to slow down

  to a lower speed I can handle.  

It is time for me to adjust and drop down.

 

© Norman Molesko, 2010

 

 

PILLS-PILLS

 

Pills-pills for this Senior guy.

Doctors prescribe many.

They come in containers.

I am told usually to take all,

until they are used up. To do so is wise.

Some stabilize, mobilize,

 tranquillize, even sterilize.

  Twelve pills for me to take when awake.

They have such funny names.

My “half-an-hour before a meal” pill.

“With food” pill. “After I eat” pill.

“A not-to-eat before one hour” pill.

“Two each nightly before going to bed” pill

    and “a weekly pill.”

All these pills get me confused, crazy at times.

I need to organize my pill-taking methodically. 

Frustrations do arise which I try to disguise.

I say “my pills are a Senior’s prize.”

 

© Norman Molesko, 2009