Like a novice entering a nunnery,
I’m going into a nursing home;
I’m not really old enough,
And I’m still inclined to roam.
I’m not waiting for God
Or close to death’s door;
I am still compos mentis,
And I could stay for more.
My problem lies in my body:
It has betrayed me brutally.
I’m so dependent on others
There’s no other option for me.
A chronic illness attacked
A long bad time ago;
The story is a very sad one—
A veritable tale of woe.
I’m fortunate to have family
Who are generous to me;
If not for their helping hands,
I don’t know where I’d be.
So now I sit in hospital,
My doctors appalled at the idea
That I might want to go home,
When I tried to make it clear.
Because I cannot manage alone—
That’s when my accidents occur;
I wait and wait for a room in a home
But not without demur.
Because I’m only sixty-one years old,
And despite my disablement,
I certainly don’t fit the mould
Of a nursing home resident.
I’ve given in to my doctors’ demands;
They have my welfare at heart.
I’m waiting now, time on my hands …
But that’s how it’ll be, from now on!