I am not my Alzheimers

I am not my Alzheimer's, Not that person losing things and forgetting.
I'm a wife, widow, mother, sister a friend, A neighbour who is not letting
this disease define me or who I am. This label just gets in the way
of allowing me to live my life in my own individual way.

I am who I have always been, Just as you are always you.
I just forget appointments, or where I am going and what I'm supposed to do.
But I still have a shoulder for crying on. Hands that can knit and sew,
Ears that will listen and eyes that grow dull when you say that you have to go.

My arms can still hug, and my nose can still smell if you've burned the toast a bit
but there are things that you are saying that sometimes just don't seem to fit.
Keep your sentences short and be patient if I ask you to repeat something again
something you've told me so many times that just hides away in my brain.

I wish this disease could be bargained with. I could swap remembered trivia
in return for the names of family and friends, I'll give "Pacu is the capital of Bolivia"!
Its like a chess board up here in my head. Some facts are black and some white
when the black facts are on black squares, they are hidden and out of sight.

I suppose I may be repeating things over and over again
Stories and events from the old days...and I'll forget your name and then
in time I'll even forget who you are and I know that will be tough
so I want you to know before I get there I could never love you enough

If I make a dinner arrangement with you or we have agreed a date,
call the day before to check when we're meeting ... Say "It's just to make sure I'm not late".
Call me as well, just before you set off, So I know when to put the tea on
It's a good way of reminding me, without saying "Your memory is gone".

And if you turn up, and I am not there I mean you no disrespect
My memory is like a limb I have lost that no prosthetic can ever correct.
Your patience and your kindness mean an awful lot to me.
This kleptomaniac Alzheimers, pilfers those things you see

Finally, in the future, if I ask where my dead husband has gone.
Just tell me that he has popped out for a while, then I won't have to grieve again.
You respect my abilities, passions, and tastes. You remember the person I am.
I am not my Alzheimers. I will always be your MUM.

(Ed: what a lovely, thoughtful poem- the picture is generic)