I’m It
I’m the one she looks for when she wakes up.
I’m the one she looks to when she’s confused.
I’m the one who buys the food and sundries that keep the house running.
I’m the one who pays the bills and manages the crises as they happen.
I’m the one who launders the clothes and bed linens that keep her warm.
I’m the one who changes the sheets and adjusts the pillows.
I’m the one who vacuums the rugs and keeps her room (relatively) clean.
I’m the one who sits with her while she watches TV.
I’m the one who cooks her food, ensuring it’s what she likes and how she eats it.
I’m the one who feeds her, for hours at a time, fighting through the aggression her illness engenders.
I’m the one who speaks for her in the years since she lost her words.
I’m the one who stays up all night because she can’t sleep.
I’m the one who changes her diapers what seems like a hundred times a day,
keeping her clean, dry, and free from injury.
I’m the one who washes her face, combs her hair, and trims her nails.
I’m the one who bathes her and moisturizes her skin with lotion.
I’m the one who raises the bed and props her up with pillows so she can sit.
I’m the one who moves her paralyzed limbs and turns her to prevent sores from forming on her skin.
I’m the one who comes when she coughs, wipes her nose, and watches her breathe.
I’m the one who holds her and soothes her when she has a stroke.
I’m the one who’s there when she opens her eyes.
I’m the one who’s by her side as she falls asleep.
I’m it.
Just me.
My beautiful beautiful friend. You are the one. And I admire you so much for it. ❤️❤️❤️
Hi, @quiltingmom. That’s not what I meant. I meant that I’m the *only* one; it’s *just* me. I was trying to explain to Mom’s case manager the difference between a patient on a hospital ward, which is supported by nurses, aides, cooks, etc., and Mom, who only has me. There are no legions of people supporting us. “I’m it,” meaning I’m all she’s got. I shouldn’t have posted it here, but I started to cry when I was making the list.














