Dependence; health and care gone wrong.

Please sir,

Allow me to rob you of your

Independence;

Psst, over here.

Let me exchange your shirt and tie for this

smock;

Hospital

Pyjamas

avec

bottom

Popping out the rear.

Let me dislodge your confidence,

provide you with

bed-pan

or glide-about

commode;

(Grab-rail/handy-helper/bed-pull, whatever.)

Sippy cup,

and, if you like,

I’ll cut-up your food

Into little squares and feed you.

Relax;

No need to move,

I can press this button and

voila,

You become upright!

I know you say you can do it yourself,

yet,

It will be so much quicker if I do it for you.

Button-up your shirt,

Wash your hands,

Shave those whiskers.

I can do everything.

I don’t realise that my actions are theft.

They remove your ability to act,

They relieve you of

Autonomy,

They create passivity;

exchanged with love.

Sometimes

We love too much,

When our passion for care

Overwhelms our intention to support,

When our obsession with

Protection

Wraps you-up in so much bubble-wrap

That you’re gone,

We have done something wrong.

How do we balance

Encouraging you

To walk through the pain,

to

Manoeuvre in bed

Yourself?

How do we make ourselves,

redundant,

So that you can be

Independent?