Why don’t you like me?

The title of this blog post is the name of the poem posted in a discussion group. Zella wrote earlier this week… “I thought my husbands poem might be suitable for Parkinson’s Awareness Day!”

To which LAJ responded… “I thought it was going to about a caregiver who thought their husband didn’t like them anymore, which is what it felt like before I knew what was happening due to the frozen face that seemed to glare at me all the time😟”

WHY DON’T YOU LIKE ME?

“When did it start?” the doctor said “The hate campaign that’s in your head”

It started out with a little thing A parcel neatly tied with string

I couldn’t get the knot undone It really wasn’t too much

The problem very quickly spread A champagne cork encased in lead

Just pull the corner, plastic tag It’s just like opening up a bag

But heat-Sealed cartons won’t comply They tear or shred, I wonder why?

They should open up for me Not stay tight shut. It’s misery

It cooks in minutes on the pack But opening it, I’ve lost the knack

It doesn’t work I can’t get in, This thing is going in the bin.

I’ve stabbed it with a table fork Tempers rise, I cannot talk.

Have all these packs developed hate For me no meals, note the date

But all my efforts are in vain Four broken nails what a pain.

I’ve tried with other simple things 10 pound note develops wings

It floats and flutters then it sighs. I’m out I’m out it loudly cries

It won’t go back without some force All my notes have changed their course

Why do all things hate me so? Why won’t they just go with the flow

Is it old age that treats me thus I can’t go on I’ll make a fuss

Coordination is the key Its making such a fool of me

Filing papers opening mail all tasks that I can fail

It was my mother that I told You take too long, it’s cause you’re old

Parkinson’s is such a sod For my old back another rod

I’d change the duvet if I could My fingers seem to change to wood

The pillowcase will not comply It really makes me want to cry

Zips and buttons stubbornly Are never like they used to be

Sometimes it really makes me laugh I seem not whole I’m cut in half

The half that works has disappeared The other half behaves quite weird.

It moves and shakes all on its own It will not do the things It’s shown

My life is turning into farce And Parkinson’s can kiss my arse

Written by…. John Smith