Arno Geiger – Der alte König im Exil

Gerade fertig gelesen:

Ich hatte das Buch erst als Hörbuch, fand es aber sehr schwierig zum anhören, jetzt habe ich es in der Bücherei als Buch erwischt. Das Thema Alter interessiert mich sehr. Und überhaupt mag ich biografische Bücher. Hier erzählt Herr Geiger von seinem Vater. Auslöser der Erzählung war die Demenzerkrankung des alten Herrn. Doch es geht nicht nur um die Krankheit, sondern um das Leben des Vaters, seinen Werdegang, um Familie und veränderte Zeiten.

Mir gefällt sehr, das trotz des „einfachen“ Lebens so viel zu erzählen ist. Besonders schön sind auch die ausführlichen Beschreibungen vorallem auch die des Weges mit der Krankheit. Ein wirklich gutes Buch und gar nicht traurig.

Herr Geiger hat auch eine eigene Website, was ich sehr schön finde. Hier entlang.

Und Hier, bei der Zeit, gibt es noch ein Interview von Ihm zum Buch. Hier noch ein Beitrag der Ard über Naomi Feil, die die Validation nach Europa gebracht hat. Auch bei Youtube gibt es viele Beiträge zum Thema Demenz. z.B. dieser 3 Teiler.

Zum Thema Alter und Pflege möchte ich noch diese kleine Geschichte hinzufügen:

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice, ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice the things that you do.
And forever is losing a sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse. You’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten, with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another
A young boy of sixteen with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at twenty my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five, now I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A man of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty, once more, babies play ‘round my knee,
Again, we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me. My wife is now dead.
I look at the future. I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years, and the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles. Grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass, A young man still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living life over again.
I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people. Open and see.
Not a cranky old man.
Look closer .. See.. Me.