Alright, nurses. Take a close look at me. Things aren’t always as they appear to be. You think I’m testy. You think I’m mean. But things aren’t always as they seem to be. You have a job to do all through the day. You bathe and feed me and with my feelings, play. You want that paycheck. That sums it up. But you don’t care about me–not very much. I was once like you–young and carefree. I had a husband and children numbering three. I had a life. I was beautiful and smart. I lived in a world in which I played a part. I grew old like you will one day, too. I could no longer put on my socks or my shoes. I had to hire someone to look after me. So here you are and here you will be until my watch stops and my bell quits ringing. The clouds will come up, and the birds will cease singing. My grass will dry up, and my flowers will die. The weeds will take over and destroy all life. And you will move on and forget my face. My name will fade away, and another will take its place. You will have someone else to care for every day, but please be careful what you do and what you say, because she’ll hear you, and she’ll know she’s trouble. She’ll be cooperative and so very humble. Don’t play with her heart–it is ever so weak. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s really quite meek. Please let her ride out her last days at a walk, and when you address her, don’t yell–just talk. She doesn’t want to be here anymore than you. If only she could still put on her own shoes.