Let me tell you about my day
and perhaps I shall not be judged that way
My day starts at 4:00am when I hear her rustling about
I prepare her breakfast and hope that she eats on her own
I feed her if she does not want to
I clean up after her and go downstairs to do her laundry
keeping silent as I wash her urine-drenched clothes and sheets
I give her a shower in spite of her anger
I change her diaper and hope that it would be a good day
I wash her when she has feces all over her
I clean when she has left a trail of excrement on the floor
while I muster everything for me not to gag or cry
I serve her meals on time and hope that she eats
as I sneak for awhile to freshen myself
I clean up after her and check the time
Half of the day has already gone by
The rest of the day is spent
on answering endless questions repeatedly
Of assisting her walk to and fro when sleep is lost to her
Of taking in her anger when I become her target of wrath
and when she decides to eat the food I give her in the afternoon
there is a certain happiness in me
for it means that I do not have to pick-up the pieces
when she decides to throw those at me
During night time there is not much difference
as days and nights seemed no different to her
A goodnight's sleep is but a rare gift
Sleep is not even a reprieve
When the sun rises to a new morning
my day would begin again...
No this is not my profession
I do not get paid
I care for my grandmother
Without asking anything for myself
So please forgive me If at times I cry or complain
Give me some leeway for I get weary and tired
I feel battered and bruised from deep inside.
