EYES

I am writing this poem, through the eyes of another, My carer, husband and significant other. Whenever a loved one, cares for you, They often feel, like the forgotten few. Their day doesn't stop, when you are in bed, They have too many thoughts, going round in their head. In fact their day is never done, On top of me, there's a household to run. To watch a loved one, decline every day, Is just so tough, there's nothing to say. But the incredible carers carry on, On the outside, they seem so strong. Emotionally exhausted, and physically too, Resentful and angry, at MND not you. Overwhelmed, detached, is how they feel, It's called carers burnout, the condition is real. Respite is needed, for the carer to rest, Nobody wants it, but it is for the best. Time without thinking about giving me meds, Peace and reflection, resting in their bed. Nebulise and suction, are constant demands, As are moving my head, or adjusting my arms. My cushion isn't comfy, I feel like a pest! I need to move my legs, there really is no rest. Carers battle on, through injury and pain, Sick and exhausted, and feeling very drained. Feeling socially isolated, it seems that no-one cares, Their life has stopped, whilst others get on with theirs. Carers don't sleep well, and wake up several times, Always listening out, it's hard to clear their mind. Even when they go out, their mind is always home, They can't switch off, yet they never moan. Worried about their future, and how they will cope, Grieving for a life, knowing there's no hope! Some give up work, which causes more distress, Finances are tight, although that's hard to confess. I see the anger, and frustration in their eyes. Mopping up my tears, as I sit around and cry. Why do they do it? Because they love and care, And nobody else, is ever really there!