Ad: How I Choose To See It

Before dementia, Sister Mary Was strong-willed, mean, and strict. She hit my desk with a ruler When my cursive was nondescript. She used to give me the evil eye If I didn’t do my work. She was a drill sergeant in a habit When boys looked up her skirt. But one day Sister Mary Didn’t show up for school. They found her along the roadside, Dancing like a fool. They sent her for an x-ray, Thinking she hit her head. But Sister Mary had no lump; She just thought that she was ten. “Who am I? Who are you? What are you doing to me?” “Of course I know what year it is,” She said, “It’s 1933.” Then she withdrew the raspberries She’d stuffed in her pajama pockets And licked “the squishies” from her fingers Before the nurses could stop it Sister Catherine told us later That she had Alzheimer’s Disease. And when she came to visit us It was clear as we took our seats, That Sister Mary wasn’t her menacing self But uncharacteristically beaming! (It made us wonder what had happened, To make her such a meanie!) Then, even more incredibly, she sang to us. She belted out, “Sing, sing, a song… La la la la”, while we stared at her, Too confused to sing along. Were we supposed to feel sad for her, Because she lost her personality? Or happy that she was happy, Though plagued by this disease? We knew we’d never see her again When they walked her out the door, But we prayed with Sister Catherine That her mind would be restored. I’ve never forgotten that day, That kindness in her eyes - I’d like to think it was the “real Sister Mary,” Given a second life. 8/11/11 (A.D = Alzheimer’s Disease)