by John Yeo
“I used to be able to walk for miles through grassy fields, just enjoying the seasons turning around in the perennial cycle of life, death and birth. Wildlife was prolific in those days, the hedgerows would be full of birdsong and interesting little rustles and sounds of scampering and scurrying little feet. I would take a pen and a notebook to record my thoughts, sometimes a piece of poetry would seep into a corner of my mind and I would hastily sit on the grass and put pen to paper. There were times I would sit and sketch Many a time, I have been caught in a storm and hastened to the nearest hedgerow and dived beneath the bushes and elderberry trees seeking shelter. Mostly I remember sunny days, cloudless blue skies, and perennial wildflowers everywhere. Life drifted on smoothly, with the peace to ramble the fields and think alone.Then came men with guns, and fences appeared, with signs that warned. ‘Private Property. No Trespassing, Keep Out.” Life became restricted to tiny pathways of muddy footpaths sometimes overgrown and impassable. The times had changed and brought Ground Control with fenced enclosure.”
“Yes, Mr Robinson, now try to rest before ward rounds and the doctor arrives.” A busy nurse bustled in and tidied up his bed.
“Now I have this harsh dementia and my short-term memory is gone, at least I can stroll those bygone lanes again in my mind, nurse.”
“Yes, Mr Robinson, try to rest now.”
“I feel as if my mind is fenced and restricted, I can no longer freely think and enjoy the world of now, I am restricted to tiny foggy footpaths of memory, sometimes overgrown and impassable. I feel I am grounded, not in control, fenced in by the evil of dementia.”
“Yes, Mr Robinson, do you need the commode now?”
“No thanks nurse, I think I will sleep for a while.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved.