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Pat Dring Poem
A true poem of my own Mothers battle with Dementia. You were the best Mother.
Twenty Five years ago this week you died. It was such a shock I cried and cried
But deep in my heart, it didn't feel as if you had just died.
To me your illness took away my Mother.
And left someone else there, another
Someone who didn't even know the time of day.
Or even what day it was, Monday or Saturday.
You couldn't even make a cup of tea.
Let alone keep your flat, like it used to be.
You phoned me constantly day and night.
I tried to get to see you, with all of my might.
But I couldn't do it, not then at all,
then you had that dreadful fall.
You didn't know what Agoraphobia was.
I couldn't tell you well, because.
You hated the home we had to put you in.
But by then you couldn't do a thing.
Alzheimer's, senile dementia, I’m not
even sure what you had.
All I know is, it was very bad
It robbed me of my Mother so many years
before she actually died.
We couldn't get through to you
no matter how hard we tried.
You lived in a little world of your own
making us all feel so alone.
You used to be so clever, so strong, so true,
Then just look what this illness did to you.
You used to knit, sew all our clothes you did make
everything we ate, you did bake.
When you were younger such good jobs you had.
like ten whole years at the Nat.West.Bank.
before the war.
Then seven years nursing the soldiers during the war.
After you married and had us two.
You still worked so hard, so much to do,
For years you ran the taxi business we had.
Throughout the good and even the bad.
I had to answer the phone at four years of age
(Haywood’s taxi’s) I would say,
Then our business folded through,
you still worked so hard' so much to do.
With my father you managed the Bridgford Wine stores
on Melton Road,West Bridgford, for many years,
Then on Parliament Street to
Smith Englefield you went
You worked there for many years
until to ( Gem ) you were sent
You worked so hard, all of your life,
A wonderful Mother, a wonderful Wife
You were the best Mother, anyone could have had,
until your illness, made everything so bad
So please God in heaven above.
Send my Mum all my love. By Pat Dring Nee Haywood
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2015
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Pat Dring Poem
‘Our House
We bought our house in 1968, for eighteen hundred pounds.
A little terrace in a row, anything bigger was out of our bounds.
It had a loo in the garden, a bath downstairs, three bedrooms.
After a couple of years, we had a bedroom turned into a bathroom. All pale blue,
Although we still kept the outside loo.
The kitchen was extended, to incorporate the old bathroom.
For us that couldn’t be to soon.
This lasted us for many years.
Although the kitchen still drove me to tears.
Then a few years ago we had the kitchen, flattened to the ground.
It cost several times more, than the original, eighteen hundred pounds.
But up sprung, brand new kitchen fittings and all.
Also a new washroom and loo, but guess what has happened to the walls.
I started writing, a little, bit by bit, now there are no walls to be seen.
They are all covered in cuttings, of stories, poems, articles, etc, photos,
or of places Ive been.
When people go to our loo, they disappear for ages,
Stuck in there reading pages after pages.
Our kitchen cupboard fronts are all covered as well.
There certainly has been a story to tell.
Life has certainly changed, beyond my wildest dreams.
Life is reflected, upon the walls, reams by reams.
‘Our House
We bought our house in 1968, for eighteen hundred pounds.
A little terrace in a row, anything bigger was out of our bounds.
It had a loo in the garden, a bath downstairs, three bedrooms.
After a couple of years, we had a bedroom turned into a bathroom. All pale blue,
Although we still kept the outside loo.
The kitchen was extended, to incorporate the old bathroom.
For us that couldn’t be to soon.
This lasted us for many years.
Although the kitchen still drove me to tears.
Then a few years ago we had the kitchen, flattened to the ground.
It cost several times more, than the original, eighteen hundred pounds.
But up sprung, brand new kitchen fittings and all.
Also a new washroom and loo, but guess what has happened to the walls.
I started writing, a little, bit by bit, now there are no walls to be seen.
They are all covered in cuttings, of stories, poems, articles, etc, photos,
or of places Ive been.
When people go to our loo, they disappear for ages,
Stuck in there reading pages after pages.
Our kitchen cupboard fronts are all covered as well.
There certainly has been a story to tell.
Life has certainly changed, beyond my wildest dreams.
Life is reflected, upon the walls, reams by reams.
v
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2013
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Pat Dring Poem
THE HOSPITAL FAIRYLAND
They walked together, hand in hand,
Into life’s magical fairyland.
Where there was no trouble, where there was no pain.
Where life could really, begin all over again.
Where were no men in little white coats.
Forcing you all, to stuff drugs down your throats.
Forcing you to do, what you didn’t want to.
Telling you it was all for the best, for you,
People shouting, people crying.
Most of the people talking about dying.
What is this hell, we’ve all come to?
It’s called coming off drugs, we all have It to go through.
Where will it end, what will we do?
None of us really, has a clue.
We are given more pills, we are told, we have to take.
To the men in white coats, life’s a piece of cake.
We are the prisoners, they guard the doors.
Some try to creep out, on all fours.
Into hell and back, we go for a ride.
Eventually if we’re lucky, we come out the other side.
Where we can walk, hand in hand.
Into life’s magical Fairyland.
Where there is trouble, where there is pain.
But at least we can start, living again.
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2008
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Pat Dring Poem
‘0 LITTLE WHITE TABLET’
O little white tablet, how I hate you,
I was only 21 years old, when introduced to you.
You looked so innocent, so white, so pure.
I was told you were the answer to everything,
(The cure)
No-one told me, when they introduced me to
the rest of your family, the yellow and the blue.
The blue being five times stronger than you.
No-one told me of the dangers you held within.
Of all the pain I would have to go through, all the suffering.
No-one told me. YOU would rob me, of eighteen
years of my life.
That I would be unable to function properly,
as a Mother and Wife.
No-one told me, I would get addicted to you.
Of all the pain and suffering, I would
have to go through.
To get you out of my system, alone took two years.
Two more years of heartbreak, many, many tears.
Then to find out, I had Agoraphobia.
Several more years, destroyed by fear.
Which a lot of people, say is caused by you.
Not being able to go out, far or near.
Hurting all the ones, I loved so dear.
O little white tablet, how I hate you.
But in the end I was the winner Not you.
This poem refers to prescribed drugs
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2011
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Pat Dring Poem
Linda Bentley,
I remember the first time we met you came round for a coffee.
I remember it well, we sat talking for hours, just you and me.
Over the next few years, We must have drunk hundreds of cups.
Life was a roll of downs, Then ups.
I remember the first time I met your Mum. All dressed in pale blue.
I think she was going to some special do.
I remember Jills first birthday party, even the dress she wore.
The house was full of friends and family and more.
Val and Grandma, Carol and Jane all of their familys as well.
The house was packed, certainly a tale to tell.
The Bell Inn at Ingolmells where we all went for a drink.
Then round to our caravan, coffees to sink.
I remember Claire as a child, the hours she used to spend at our home.
Every Monday on the way to Slimming World she got credit for her phone.
I remember all the things she used to help me with. shopping, baking,
washing the dishes the cups and the plates.
All this before she was even eight.
I remember so many things that we used to do. The bonfire parties at your
house.
All the same crowd their having the time of their lives.
Then the big bash for my big Five O.
I wanted a really big show.
So we prepared all the food at your house, Then carried it all over to mine.
Only just got it all ready in time.
I did the cake it was a huge chocolate train.
Something big enough to get all the candles on was my aim.
Life throws some really awful things at you.
Some so bad you just don’t know what to do.
Our friendship spanned almost thirty years
A lot of fun a lot of tears.
When the police came round to our house that night, I didn’t even realize you
had gone.
I thought you were just ill again, I found out almost a week later on
Especially as we had only been chatting a couple or so weeks before, About
the past.
On that day you looked so well with all your make up on, I thought you were
on the mend at last.
On your birthday in May I thought of you,
All the things we had been through, Rest in peace. Love Pat
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2011
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Pat Dring Poem
Why you did , what you did I will never know.
Why you put me through so much pain, and hurt me so.
You obviously had your reasons.
But then I didnt know what they were.
Now since I found out.
The pain has been even harder to bear.
You sold me down the river,
Knowing I couldnt even swim.
Only you and i know.
You commited the cardinal sin.
You broke me, you destroyed me.
My spirit and my soul.
How was I ever going to fight back, to reach.
The unreachable goal.?
But just like Humpty dumpty who had a great fall.
I had to learn all over again to walk tall.
I found a handfull of people to help put me back together again.
To help wipe out the misery , the suffering, the pain.
So I could get on with my life, start living again.
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2006
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Pat Dring Poem
My Agoraphobia.
In 1983 you came back into my life.
Bringing me nothing, but trouble and strife.
You kept me a prisoner in my own home.
When all I longed for, Was to go out alone.
You caused me pain, you made cry,
I felt so ill, I thought I would die.
From doctor, to doctor, from pillar to post.
Where o where, is the cure I wanted the most?
Where exactly does the answer lie?
Eventually I found it, in a doctor called Di.
She gave me the will to carry on and fight.
I fought so hard, with all of my might.
The shops in the village seemed so very far away.
If only I could go out, just for one single day.
I tried and tried, the tears, the pain,
It was a battle lose or gain,
I gave it everything, yes everything I had.
It wasn’t easy, in fact, it was very bad.
In 1990, after 7 long years,
A lot of heartache, many, many tears,
I was starting to win the battle of getting out the door,
With each day, I was doing more and more,
But there was still so many things that I couldn’t do alone.
Still so many jobs, that had to be done on the phone.
I could now walk to the shops, there and back,
get the groceries, take them home, and unpack,
But I still couldn’t get a bus into town on my own,
only if I had someone to go with, borrowed, on loan.
It took several more years, of heartbreak and pain,
Before I could finally travel alone again.
May 2nd 2000, I jumped on a bus and popped into town,
It was just like my world had been turned upside down.
HERE WAS I FREE AT LAST,
Finally free to forget the past.
So I decided to do something I had never done before.
I started at college part time, each day I couldn’t wait to get out of the door,
To catch my bus, to feel like I had finally rejoined the human race.
Living life at a hectic pace.
Going to college at the age of 53,
Really did do wanders for me.
The computer course was harder than I thought it would be,
but others in the class helped me.
Our tutor was really nice,
Always ready with good advice.
Now I really feel I have turned my life completely around,
With this new freedom I have found.
With a lot of help, from my husband and son,
The battle is over, finally won.
So its goodbye agoraphobia you belong in the past,
Never again will you get me in your grasp.
This is a true poem of my own battle with Agoraphobia, That robbed me of a lot of my life,
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2008
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Pat Dring Poem
My Little Green Propelling Pencil.
I was only a child when you were given to me,
By the then, Chairman of Nottingham Forest, When he came round for a cup of tea.
Harold Wrigley Alcock was his name.
Nottingham Forest football team was his game.
The year was nineteen fifty nine.
Forest were doing fantastic at this time.
He also was the owner of the Bridgford Wine Stores on Melton Road in West
Bridgford.
Where both my parents worked, my sister and I were often in the back room,we
were never bored.
He came round to our house every Sunday morning the books to do.
We lived on Exchange Road number one hundred and twenty two.
He often brought us gifts when he went abroard.
We just went to Skeggy in our little old Ford.
He took us as a family to Forest ground.
We watched the game from the V. I. P. box, the excitement the sounds.
As a child this was all mind blowing.
The excitement was truly flowing.
Now fifty years later this all came flooding back to me.
While clearing out a cupboard I found my little green propelling pencil. Given to me
by he.
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2011
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Pat Dring Poem
Thank you Diana
How do you thank someone for giving you twenty-five years of extra life
Yes twenty-five years extra, Of being a Mother, Nanny and Wife.
How do you thank someone for being there for you
.
When you were so ill, you didn’t know what to do.
You thank them by, now being the person you want to be
.
And showing the world on live TV.
You thank them by doing all the things you never got the chance to do before.
When you couldn’t even venture out the door.
You thank them by living your life in the fast lane again
.
Now you are free of the nightmare, free of the pain.
You thank them by shopping at a packed Sheffield Meadowhall
.
A couple of weeks before Christmas, you are having a ball
.
You thank them by going to see your fav’ourite singer Cliff
.
You sit there with 12,000 people just to do this.
You thank them by running a helpline for others
meeting fantastic people along the way
.
You thank them by living your life day by day
.
You thank them by just being you,
You thank them in everything that you do.
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2014
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Pat Dring Poem
I looked at the clock, My life was slowly ebbing away.
I didn’t think I would reach 40, What a high price to pay.
I was coming off tranquillisers 15 a day prescribed by my then G P,
But the withdrawal symptoms were so horrendous I could hardly see.
I was constantly being sick night and day,
All I could do was to sit and pray this nightmare would go away.
I couldn’t walk properly, My balance had completely gone,
I couldn’t pay privately, as money I had none.
I also had Agoraphobia, so I couldn’t even go out of the door,
This wasn’t a life worth living any more.
All I was left with, was to say a prayer,
To ask for a miracle. Lay my soul bare.
A week or so later, a letter in my hand,
An appointment with a new doctor, I could hardly stand.
Over the next year a miracle unfolded, bit by bit.
I didn’t even have to walk with my stick.
I started to go out a bit more each day,
Various obstacles got in my way.
But I was determined, I was not going back,
I mapped out a plan to keep myself on track.
I did it, I conquered my Agoraphobia, and got off the pills.
I even went to college for the first time to learn new skills.
I went on Radio, Television, Newspapers and Magazines all covered my story.
The miracle I prayed for had happened, mine was now the glory.
v
Copyright © Pat Dring | Year Posted 2012
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