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Skilled Care Unit

A Skilled Care Unit Faces racked with pain, no medicine can cure. Sad and alone, no one comes to visit. Bedridden, confined to wheelchairs, nowhere to go. Pacing the halls, doors locked, prisoners at the end of life. Memories of laughter, family outings, salt, sea air, cookouts. All slowly fading now, freedom lost to old age and infirmities. Life condensed to a single room with death the only escape.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 2/5/2025 6:55:00 PM
I too have written a couple of poems on this theme. I hope I die before I'm dumped in one of those homes! The last two lines of your poem is right on the mark,Oliver! – Maurice
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Mckeithan Avatar
Oliver Mckeithan
Date: 2/5/2025 9:22:00 PM
Me too. I assist our church in a monthly service at a nursing home and when I was a practicing pharmacist I did work in some of them. Thanks Maurice
Date: 2/5/2025 1:13:00 PM
this is so emotive, Oliver. A very good portrayal of the tragic last years of some older people that have nobody to care for them at home.
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Mckeithan Avatar
Oliver Mckeithan
Date: 2/5/2025 1:26:00 PM
Yes it is. As a pharmacist I worked in some of them. It is tragic. Thanks for reading Andrea

Book: Reflection on the Important Things