Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

Our Land: Getting Old Part 2

OurLandBannerFindingNinee

Today’s Our Land is a Part Deux by by Lizzi of Considerings; a follow-up from last week’s.  Last week’s had a couple of people commenting on how they did not see how it related to Our Land. They were justified in wondering, and rightfully confused, as it wasn’t my typical Our Land. If there are readers out there who were confused about the desperation left in last week’s post, I hope that this week, Lizzi brings home the point for them.

So, without the Ado’s…

Our Land: Getting Old Part 2 – Getting old isn’t for wimps

After a harrowing experience in a three-week stint in a care home for the elderly, I swore I’d never work with them again. It was too hard, I determined, to see first-hand the awful indignities they suffered, and to be party to the extent of their marginalisation from British society.

So I took the coward’s way out, quit, and spent a decade looking after humans at the other end of the spectrum – delightful, bouncing babies and bonny wee toddlers in a day-nursery. These were far more my kind of human – on their way IN, bursting with vitality and joie de vivre. A far cry from those who could almost hear death’s whisper in their ears and feel his kiss hovering over their wrinkled cheeks.

Yet I ended up back with them, these elderly. This section of our society we find so complicated to engage with. These ancient humans.

I see them now as patients, coming to me to have their eyes screened to check for diabetic retinopathy. They totter out to my van and they (usually) smile warmly as I introduce myself by name. I tell them I’m their ‘photographer,’ trying to glam up the job, and avoid the reminder that they’re there because their bodies are failing them.

When I check to confirm their date of birth, many of them make some remark about it:

“That was a good year.”

“A long time ago, that.”

“Yes, I’m very old now.”

And usually they smile, wryly, and I offer to ‘knock a few years off, if you want,’ as I enter their details into my laptop. Or I tell them “Birthdays are scientifically proven to be good for you – the more of them you have, the longer you live!” This makes them smile, and I grin back at them. Then they might tell me a story about their childhood, or their grandchildren, or the 80th birthday they just had.

And while they like the idea of magically regaining their youth, most of them decline the offer. Most of them are content, and my heart feels full.

But some have genuine complaints. They wince in pain as they move from one area of my mobile screening unit to the next. Sitting for too long on the twizzly chair is awkward for them. They struggle to climb in, lifting their legs laboriously and clinging to the safety rails. They collapse onto the seat inside, wheezing, palpably wishing they could still manage this task.

And they tell me droplets of wisdom.

“Don’t get old – it hurts.”

“I lost my wife last year. Fifty-two years we were married. I’m moving house and going to live with my son now.”

“Getting old isn’t for wimps.”

And this latter sentiment has struck at my core and tapped into some deep-seated fears.

Because Alzheimer’s and arthritis are part of my heritage. Because I’ve seen what happens to the incapable and the infirm. Because I’ve been witness to the rack and ruin that can befall a person as they age.

Because I’m terrified of being elderly in this society.

I’ve seen them on their knees, having fallen, unable to get up.

I’ve seen them shuffling in their wheelchairs, scrabbling to try to get close enough to the head-rest of the camera (on its lowest setting) so that I can take the photographs I need.

I’ve seen them held forward and spoken down to by their carers.

I’ve heard about how the care home lost their glasses or put them in someone else’s wheelchair.

I’ve noted when the care homes haven’t bothered to bring them to their appointments at all.

And in two shatteringly awful cases, I’ve seen them left in corridors in hospitals in their wheelchairs, waiting hours and hours for patient transport to return for them. With no-one to talk to. No books to read. No way to propel themselves to find a more comfortable place to wait. No access to a toilet, or refreshments.

Stuck. Abandoned. Alone.

In the latest case, I returned repeatedly to the lady. I commiserated with her about how awful the patient transport was, who’d told her to ring, but not left a number. Who’d told her not to bring her purse, so she was unable to book a taxi back to her care home. Who weren’t there. I rang my admin team and they got back to me – patient transport would be about an hour.

I brought her water (her request). I offered her coffee. I popped back in between patients, and later when I had a break I sat with her and drank my coffee, and she told me about the Bed & Breakfast she used to run in Ireland with her then husband. She told me about how she’d had a heart attack and ended up in a wheelchair, and how he hadn’t been able to cope. She told me about how he’d struggled with her disability, and how it had ended their marriage. She told me about how the care home she was in was costing her £1000 a month, and she didn’t know what she’d do once the money had run out.

And at the end of my clinic, two hours later, she was still there, in the corridor. And the lights were out.

A friendly security guard had noticed her, and I explained her plight. He shook his head, appalled, and offered to take her through to the reception desk to try to get things sorted out.

I don’t know what became of her. I hope she made it home. But it really makes me fucking wonder.

In other cultures, these people would be venerated. Cherished. Adored if not for themselves, for their status – survivors. Warriors. People who have lived and who have entered their end days with honour and dignity and grace.

Here, they struggle, sometimes daily. They might not have enough money. They might have started losing their minds, and are at risk of harming themselves. Sometimes they can’t afford to heat their homes. More often than not, they’re desperately lonely. They ache. They hurt. They’re wrinkled, battered, old, washed-up and uncared for, by and large. And they know it.

No. Getting old isn’t for wimps.

We need to change.

It is unacceptable to bequeath this heartless, marginalising attitude to future generations.

We need to find the strength within us – the warrior-strength that each of those old people embodies – and use it to make them count.

We need to celebrate our elderly, our aged, our venerable older citizens and somehow strive to let each one of them know that they are valued.

Cherished.

Adored.

For who they are now. For all the ‘them’s they’ve been in each preceding decade. For the contribution they’ve made. For the ways they’ve built the world we live in. For the massive things and small things and important and not-important things they’ve done with their lives.

For being.

For surviving.

For not being wimps.

Celebrate elderly1
photo credit

I feel like this message about how we treat the elderly members of our society is a needed part of Our Land, and I thank Lizzi for giving me this perspective. Here’s more about her:

LizziLizzi is a Deep Thinker, Truth Teller and Seeker of Good. She works a normal job and has a secret life as the writer at Considerings. Wife to Husby and Mother to two Neverborns, now dealing with the challenge of primary infertility, she is a frequent instigator of silliness and loves to entertain with words.

Facebook

Twitter

Google +

Pintrest

 


  • Emily - I told you in my previous comment on your part 1 piece that my mom was a director of nursing for several different NY area nursing homes during the height of her career. I wish she was still alive, because I would have forwarded to her what you wrote here. I know she would have loved it and would have agreed. She spent her whole career championing for the elderly, wrote books about it, and so on. There’s an old nursing home joke/saying that goes like this: “Be nice to your kids. They pick your nursing home.” There is some truth to that too! Anyway Lizzi, great piece and a wonderful addition to the Our Land series.March 12, 2014 – 10:36 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - I remember you saying, and I was impressed then, at how she’d spent her life and energy making life so, so much better for the elderly she cared for. That’s truly inspiring, and we should all be so lucky as you to have such a strong role model in this regard.

      Thank you for sharing her story though, it’s been so nice to have feedback that you think she would have appreciated this piece.

      I’ve heard that joke. I could respond (tastelessly) that it won’t be a problem for me…but I do get the point 😉March 12, 2014 – 5:32 pmReplyCancel

  • Dana - This is definitely a message that we need to hear, and the way our society treats our older citizens clearly lacks respect and empathy. I don’t know if it’s the system or the individuals, but I know there are good people like you out there, Lizzi. We just need more.March 12, 2014 – 10:50 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Never mistake me for anything less than someone who writes a good game, Dana. I know I’m lovely to my patients, but I still haven’t visited my grandad. I suck.

      BUT. The message as a stand-alone, is VITAL.March 12, 2014 – 5:35 pmReplyCancel

  • beth teliho - UGH this story made me cringe. You’re right, though, this is a critically important subject. Thank you, Lizzi.March 12, 2014 – 10:52 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - So much sadness, hidden in forgotten corners.

      We need to change things. Somehow.March 12, 2014 – 5:36 pmReplyCancel

  • Janine Huldie - Couldn’t agree more with your message here today Lizzi and glad you shared the second part of this with us, because I think I mentioned last week that my grandmother (although she didn’t have alzheimer’s) had a bit of senility and short term memory loss near the end of her life. I always tried to have as much patience with her when I could, but will be honest sometimes I would have my moments more out of frustration that this had to happen to her. But still wouldn’t have traded in any of the time I did have with her and cherish that we had her in our lives as long as we did. And wish other felt this way about those who are indeed older and possibility not as with it mentality as they once were. Thank you again for sharing with us.March 12, 2014 – 11:18 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - It’s never easy. Especially when they start losing their minds. I had to bite my lips today and not let out a BIGHUGESIGH of exasperation when a very little-old dear read the same line on my sight chart about three times, thinking she was switching lines each time.

      GOOD FOR YOU for looking after your Grandmother, and for finding lovely things to cherish about the experience.March 12, 2014 – 5:45 pmReplyCancel

  • Margarita Matos - Lizzi, thanks so much for the reminder. Sadly, age is considered increasingly inconvenient to many cultures. As we get older, it gets harder to manage.

    As our lives get faster and busier, we tend to forget about those who depend on us. I know I sometimes feel like I don’t do enough for my aging mom. I sometimes feel like I wish I had more time for her and more patience when she gets anxious. She tells me I do okay, but I still get the feeling like it’s not enough and it can never be enough.March 12, 2014 – 12:29 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - We get so caught up, don’t we, in trying to juggle everything, in trying to get everything right.

      And in the end, I just don’t think it’s possible. But what you’re doing is TRYING (which is a lot more than many do, and to be commended) and just…believe her. She knows you. I’m sure she understands your situation and the ways you’re adapting and compromising to support her. And she sounds like she’s thankful for you, in whatever way you’re able to be there for her. Embrace that. Don’t start guilt tripping yourself 🙂March 12, 2014 – 5:47 pmReplyCancel

  • Elena Dillon - This post is so needed. At this time in my life when I watch all my friends dealing with elderly parents, sicknesses and money problems and all that comes along with getting older I’m disheartened at how unprepared we are as a society to deal with the elderly. Both my parents are gone now but my in-laws are alive and well. They have a busier social life than my husband and I do but I wonder what we’ll do. They’ve been married almost 50 years. Thank you for writing this. We need to value the elderly so much more than we do.March 12, 2014 – 12:36 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Sounds as though your in-laws are ROCKING old age. That’s so lovely to hear 😀

      But yes – it’s an awful, nagging feeling. I really hope that you find your decisions easy, if you ever have to make them, by virtue of having GOOD options available to you.

      Sounds like a tough time of life. That part of growing up, I am NOT looking forward to.March 12, 2014 – 5:52 pmReplyCancel

  • Rachel - I think the transformation of your view of the elderly shows exactly what is needed to feel empathy. We need to be willing to really see people. We will never feel empathetic if we turn a blind eye to situations. Unfortunately, what it also means is that we have to often confront our own fears and our own feelings of helplessness. Hence, why it’s much easier to turn a blind eye. Thank you for shining this light on the elderly today, Lizzi.March 12, 2014 – 12:40 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Thank you. It really was a transformation. I’ve done (some) Growing-Up in the last ten years, in ways I never expected. But yes – confronting our own lack and our own carelessness and our propensity to just let things slide…that’s hard.

      Glad you get it. 🙂March 12, 2014 – 5:57 pmReplyCancel

  • Kate - Wow, I agree we do need to change the way we look after and treat our elderly. My husband and I just got into a disagreement about this actually because we know once one of his parents dies the living one will come to live with us, but yet when I talk about the same thing with my parents he was unwilling to let that happen. I said well this is something we need to sort out because they are our parents and I will not put them in a home…yours or mine and it is hurtful that you would be so willing to cast mine off. After a few days he apologized and I told him to make more money so we could have a bigger house & that would solve the problem when it occurs years and years and years and years from now 😉March 12, 2014 – 1:28 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Oh gosh! I can’t imagine the heartache that would have caused. I’m glad you stood your ground, and that the two of you worked it out in the end.

      I’m worried about facing this situation one day, as my parents are divorced, and Husby’s parents are in Ireland. We can’t possibly look after them all…

      I think some of them might just have to drop dead suddenly and save us the effort.

      (hey – kidding. You got that I was trying to be funny, right?)March 12, 2014 – 5:59 pmReplyCancel

      • Kate - LOL yeah, my husband tends to not be the most considerate person in the world, but when I turn the tables & make him be empathetic he gets it lol thank goodness he has a tolerant wife 😉

        …lol yes, I get that you are kidding, but it gave me a good laugh…I’m sure we’ve all been there before and had those thoughs..*in jest, of course* lolMarch 12, 2014 – 7:40 pmReplyCancel

        • Considerer - Sounds like a really good thing that you and he have such a complementary relationship. That should stand you in good stead. Hopefully.

          And hey – we all gotta learn from each other, right? 🙂

          (*phew!*)March 12, 2014 – 7:57 pmReplyCancel

  • Sarah - Golly, it makes me happy to think of you in your job! That you found a small way to improve their lives without feeling completely despondent yourself. It is a terrible situation. Thank you for making it less so.March 12, 2014 – 2:25 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - I try. But it is only a VERY small way. At least I can do THAT.

      Thanks for cheering me on, my dear 🙂 *hugs*March 12, 2014 – 6:02 pmReplyCancel

  • Mike - Good follow up, Lizzi. I absolutely agree that we need to celebrate our elderly across the board. And w/o writing a novel there needs to be a huge change in our society to caring for them. We have dropped the ball for too many decades. I won’t even get into the politics of where our money is being allocated. This definitely yanks a very difficult chain having seen both of my young parents and a grandmother go through homes. There are some really good folks but I can tell you firsthand and of information I’m privy to that there are a lot of truly criminal workers in the industry as well. It hovers with a huge forboding cloud in my thoughts for when I’m “put there” which frankly I hope to ascend before that happens. Thank you for this awesome two part series 🙂

    I wanted to input something else and it is only MY opinion real quick. Unless a blogger states otherwise ahead of time, a Comment section is an open forum for positive and negative input. If you are going to put down the author or their writing, take ownership of it and leave your name. Have a great day!March 12, 2014 – 3:00 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Thanks Mike. I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough time with this kind of thing in your family. And you’re right – there are some SHOCKINGLY awful people and standards out there, and it hurts to think that our elderly, who have done so much, aren’t better protected.

      I hope not to end up in one of these places. I can see why people do themselves in rather than face it…

      And THANK YOU for being such a champ. That’s what I think. Own it or say NOTHING. Constructive criticism is one thing. But meanness and nastiness is entirely unnecessary.

      (If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all)March 12, 2014 – 6:05 pmReplyCancel

  • Lisa @ Golden Spoons - Just last weekend, my oldest daughter sang with the youth choir form our church at a local nursing home. I went to watch and just felt sad for the people there. Almost all of them wheeled in in wheelchairs, many having no clue what was going on. It all seemed so lonely. Then, at the very end, as the children sang a familiar hymn, many of them began to sing along and some even clapped or tapped a foot. I imagined them going back in their memories to younger, happier days. I hope and pray it brought a ray of joy into their lives. I’m pretty certain it did.March 12, 2014 – 3:31 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - What a completely GORGEOUS thing to do, and so wonderful to hear that your daughter is getting involved in making these old people’s lives BETTER. This is probably my favourite response to this so far. Thanks Lisa. Keep her singing 😀March 12, 2014 – 6:07 pmReplyCancel

  • JenKehl - My Skewed View - Very nicely done Lizzi. I couldn’t comment on your first post, I didn’t know where you were going and I was uncomfortable.
    But this is wonderful, and true.
    When I was first out of college I worked with Alzheimer’s patients as an Art Therapist. I know it’s hard to believe, but I really enjoyed my time with them.
    Some days I was someone’s daughter, other days I was a long lost best friend.
    Other days I was just the mean caretaker who wouldn’t let them eat the play dough!
    They deserve our love and compassion, you are very right.March 12, 2014 – 3:45 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Awwwh Jen I smiled at your reminiscences. Thanks for sharing them 😀 That’s a really lovely way to think about them.

      Sorry I made you uncomfortable with the first one. I hope I redeemed myself.

      *HUGS*March 12, 2014 – 6:17 pmReplyCancel

  • Piper - Brilliant conclusion and you are so right. I was so glad for my own nan, and we were glad for my mother in law, because they became ill and passed quickly. Sad, that we should be happier they went than that they lingered with us for as long as possible but in a state we knew they would hate to be in. But we should celebrate their lives and the fantastic things they did for us in bringing us up.March 12, 2014 – 5:13 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - It’s so bittersweet when that happens, Piper. But I’m glad that you all managed to find solace in their not lingering and dying slowly and horribly.

      Blech :/

      But YES we should celebrate.March 12, 2014 – 6:19 pmReplyCancel

  • Yvonne - Oh, Lizzi, this has got me tearful because what you write about the old people left waiting in corridors reminds me of how my parents had to wait for hours for my dad’s medication after every hospital appointment. At least they had each other. The day my dad was admitted to hospital for the last time, I was with him and I the only time I left his side during the 4 hour admission period was when one of my sisters came so I could go and get lunch. Otherwise he would have been left sitting on his own, on a bed too high for him to get down alone. He could easily have fallen, since he was so weak at that point.

    But, after that, honestly he was treated with nothing but respect and dignity and the hospital staff really made him feel so valued.
    I wish I could say the same about my aunt who fell and cracked a rib which punctured her lung – she was sent home twice from hospital before they realised how serious it was, and by then it was too late.
    So yes, yes and yes. Value, respect and dignity is what our elderly deserve – I totally agree!March 12, 2014 – 6:24 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Yvonne I’m so glad that the hospital treated your dad with dignity and respect AFTER that point.

      I feel so bad for our nurses – they are SO overworked, and often right up against the wall from the time they walk in in the morning, until they leave at night. THIS is where the budget should be spent. NOT on agency nurses who can’t help and don’t know the ropes and COST, but on staff who want to work overtime. Who know the patients. Who CAN lighten the load.

      Oh but it’s all horrible.

      And I’m so sorry to hear about your aunt. That’s really horrific.

      I’m so glad your parents had each other.March 12, 2014 – 7:23 pmReplyCancel

  • Katia - It’s hard to come up with anything to say after reading this. The story about the Irish lady who sat in her wheelchair all by herself for a few hours broke my heart. I agree that getting old is not for wimps. I don’t know if there really is an alternative, getting old is just as sad when it’s done at home with your loved ones. Your loved ones stop being your loved ones once you don’t recognize them. UGH is right, to quote Beth, but I find some comfort in the type of cheerful and dignified interaction you offer your patients now.March 12, 2014 – 8:25 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - In which case we do it for their memory’s sake. They might stop being people we recognise, but they are STILL that person. The parallel between this – the disintegration of personality which can occur, and babyhood: the formation of that personality – are striking. Yet one we (as a rule) care for and nurture, and the other we shut away. Probably because it’s so much more painful to witness, but it makes them no less ‘out loved ones’.

      UGH pretty much sums it up. And there’s no alternative to getting old. But there ARE options in how we choose to view those elderly people in our lives.March 13, 2014 – 3:13 amReplyCancel

  • Michelle @ A Dish of Daily Life - So well said Lizzi. Reading about the woman who was just stuck there for hours was heartbreaking. How does that happen? It makes me so sad. Sad to get old, and sad for those who are old. I truly hope this changes, but I have my doubts. The family network isn’t what it used to be…I wonder if this would happen so often if the family network was stronger.March 12, 2014 – 9:22 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Michelle, I think you’ve definitely hit on one of the contributing factors there, and the disruption of the family unit must surely have its repercussions, but the bonds…I know that I can create a strong bond with someone without ever having met them in person. So it’s not geography.

      I think it’s that we’re too used to not viewing our elderly as people who have achieved the pinnacle of life, but rather as people who have fallen from it. Those who are of working-age are the new golden wonders, and we have a nasty tendency to view the transition from that as something inevitable but to be pitied.

      And how it happens that people get abandoned for hours? Lack. Of. Care. Purely and simply. And it needs to change.March 13, 2014 – 3:16 amReplyCancel

  • Chris Carter - First of all- it’s atrocious… I am right there with you. I am sick about all the horrifying neglect and outright abuse that goes on with these precious warriors. I do hope you have some ideas of what we can do…

    Why is it that we don’t honor our elders? WHY? You are so right- so many other cultures HONOR them in HUGE ways!!! We let them sit in hallways for hours forgotten… We let them lay in beds for days with bed sores and broken… God help them.

    I love that you checked on her. I love that you were aware and your heart was there. I’m not surprised.March 13, 2014 – 12:19 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - A plan? Yes, I have a plan (and no credentials to back it up) – we SHOW WE CARE. And we show the generations after us that we are ACTIVE in caring. That we go out of our way to be respectful and kind and I *know* we can’t do it all. I know the rot is too deep for any of us to change it single-handedly, but as with the story of the stranded starfishes, we can show care and love for this one. And this one. And this one. And the ripples might just catch, and start spreading…March 13, 2014 – 3:20 amReplyCancel

  • Mandi - I’m at a loss for words. I volunteered at a home in college and spent many afternoons visiting with people who everyone else seemed to have forgotten. I fed the ones who couldn’t feed themselves and read books to them. I remember a particular woman who confused me with her daughter, and I spent hours wit her. She was so lonely and so confused and just needed someone to care. She enjoyed listening to the piano, so I often pushed her wheelchair down to the activity center, and she would sit and listen to me play always happily cheering after each song. I was so pleased to be present one day when her son came to visit because I was sure she was one of the forgottens. It’s something I plan to so again…visit with the forgottens. Thank you for reminding me what a joy it was for me.March 13, 2014 – 12:30 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Oh Mandi, you just sent my soul rocketing into *shinysparklyglowytwinklywonder* – your heart is so golden, and so shining, and I LOVE that you did that.
      She was never forgotten, my dear. YOU remembered her. And you are wonderful.March 13, 2014 – 3:24 amReplyCancel

  • Anita Davis Sullivan - Of course it makes sense in Our Land… that we love and cherish those who have given us so much and now must not be forgotten.

    I think, no I hope, that there is some comfort towards the end in reflecting on a life well lived and that I can sit alone in the quiet, playing the movies of my life. But I hope there is family there often to keep making new ones.

    Thanks for sharing yet again.March 13, 2014 – 11:37 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Yes – PRECISELY THAT – Anita you’ve hit the nail on the head! It’s as though we’re willing to write them off once they need US to love and cherish and give to THEM! Sometimes. Not all the time. Because there are places and people who get it really right.

      But oh, the ones who get it wrong 🙁March 13, 2014 – 7:13 pmReplyCancel

  • Out One Ear - Linda Atwell - Lizzi: When you think about it, these elderly (once, a long time ago) were somebody’s baby. They were loved and cuddled and adored. Then time passes and things change and you are correct, in some societies the elderly are still loved and adored and valued. But much of the world they are set aside. Their time is up. Hurry up and get off this merry-go-round. I think the most important part of aging is to feel valued. I’ve always loved the elderly because they are full of stories–and sometimes, if they get away from how awful it is to be old or away from talking about aches and pains, they can be entertaining. I had one grandmother who was the former; one the latter. We adored the latter grandmother and visited her to the end. Thanks for this post Lizzi. You’ve brought back some wonderful memories for me. I loved how you handled your patients–especially the question about taking a few years off. You are so darn incredible. I hope you know it. And Kristi: thanks for bringing Lizzi to us two weeks in a row.March 13, 2014 – 1:17 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - We naturally gravitate towards those who entertain us and make us feel good about ourselves, and somehow, quite often, we forget that these elderly, shrivelldy looking people can be FULL of lively, raucous, INCREDIBLE stories of lives we could never have imagined, and that it is a PRIVILEGE to hear them told to us.
      I’m so glad this brought back lovely memories for you, linda. That’s awesome 😀

      And thank you so much for liking this and saying nice things 🙂March 13, 2014 – 7:15 pmReplyCancel

  • Allison - What a beautiful, heart wrenching post and all of it so painfully true. I do not enjoy being around the elderly because it is a stark reminder that that will be me that day, and I am not mature enough emotionally to handle that. I know it is selfish and I am working on it…posts like this help. Thank you!March 13, 2014 – 1:30 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - But Alison, I wonder if you are afraid of the same thing as I am – that you might end up being treated the way we see THEM treated now…?

      That’s what scares me.

      I’m glad this helped you – thanks for letting me know. That’s really important to me 🙂March 13, 2014 – 7:17 pmReplyCancel

  • Tracie - Your words, your heart, are beautiful. Even when your story is one that is lacking beauty. These survivors, who have far more wisdom than I, should be honored and cared for, and loved.March 13, 2014 – 11:01 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Tracie, thank you for thinking so. It’s not always the case, I guarantee it! But yes – these survivors should be honoured. And they aren’t. And that hurts, but more importantly, it hurts ALL of us, whether we’re prepared to recognise that or not.March 16, 2014 – 2:33 pmReplyCancel

  • Kristi - You verbalize beautifully (as always) thoughts that have been on my mind a lot in the past few weeks. I wish everyone who knows my 97-yr-old grandmother could have known her when she was physically and mentally stronger. While she is wonderful just as she is now, there is much more depth to her character that is hidden by age and Alzheimer’s.March 14, 2014 – 4:46 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Thanks Kristi. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with her, and I loved your TToT post through her eyes, but even then, and knowing that I had these coming up, it ached a little. It’s painful to see the people we knew to be so much MORE, so diminished. And I guess that might be one of the things people shy away from, because that can be truly awful to witness.March 16, 2014 – 2:36 pmReplyCancel

  • Tamara (at PenPaperPad) - My Mom worked at a nursing care facility for 25 years. She’d come home with bruises and scratches from Alzheimer patients, who would not recognize her and were afraid. Or just plain mean.

    She’d slump through the door, teary-eyed and heart-sad when one of her favorite patients had passed on.

    She’d slam home when some family who would come see their family member once or twice a year, would criticize her work so they could appease their guilt. (At least they did “something.”)

    They were always understaffed. They always had too many patients.

    Now, she’s retired and getting older. So far, she’s had a rocky health road, but she’s kicking around alright. She’s not alone. She’s not at a point where the decision of where she lives has to be taken from her.

    I hope it never is.March 14, 2014 – 8:36 pmReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Tamara, I’m so glad she’s not at that stage yet. I also hope she never gets to that stage. Because…just contemplating it is so horrific.
      I’ve been hit at work by an Alzheimer’s patient. The poor guy just didn’t understand what was going on, and was so distressed that I called a stop to the screening, because it just wasn’t fair to put him through it. It was horrible. He was so confused.
      It sounds as though your mother battled against really tough circumstances to do her best for those old people. GOOD FOR HER.March 16, 2014 – 2:39 pmReplyCancel

  • Kenya G. Johnson - This second part affected me way differently than the first part. Recently I had to buy light bulbs and I asked for a sales associate to help me decide. They sent the guy for that department and he was so old I didn’t know how he could still be working there. I was very patient with him. I was frustrated on the inside because it took forever and I wished I had not asked for a sales associate. In the end I thanked him so much for his help. After he had gone to the back to get more I didn’t have the heart to tell him that wasn’t what I was looking for. I swear it took about 30 minutes. I bought the light bulbs and just took them back the next day. I don’t know if he was proud our pained to have helped me and I don’t know if he wants to work or he has to but I know I did my part in being patient with him while he did his job. But it should go so much further than that. I didn’t ask him how his day was or anything. And now I wonder after this post, who he is and what he was.March 15, 2014 – 11:42 amReplyCancel

    • Considerer - Ouch! Kenya, it sounds like you did really well just to be patient with him.

      The number of times I have to bite my tongue and try to remain polite when they’re dothery and frustrating and I’m up against a dictated timeframe of minutes allowed per patient…*sigh*

      But somehow these encounters touch us and are meaningful. Perhaps they shape the way we view things, or the way we behave next time. Or the whole future.

      That’s the important thing – mulling on these things and figuring out what they mean for us, and how we’ll respond another time.March 16, 2014 – 2:43 pmReplyCancel

  • Louise - This was a really well done two part series – thanks for this Lizzi – and for sharing this part of your past experience with us.

    My grandmother had a stroke when I was eight and spent the rest of her life (until I was 15) in and out of long term care facilities. My mother has told me about what she was like before that – and I’ve seen many photos – but I don’t really remember her other than in long term care facilities or surrounded by a series of homecare providers.

    I think that experience is probably what motivated me in high school to be a candy-striper at the hospital – so I again spent time with the elderly in care. And I’ve worked in and around social policy/health care for most of my professional career, so I’ve always maintained an interest.

    All that to say, I agree we need to do more to ensure the elderly spend their latter days living in a dignified setting, and spend their last days in as dignified a manner as possible. I appreciate the toll such jobs take on staff. I appreciate the toll care takes on family members. I anticipate being one of those family caregivers at some stage in my future. I hope to have the supports needed when the time comes. I hope if I am ever in the position to need care when I am elderly I have those around me to care for me. I don’t really want to imagine that I live in a society that doesn’t want to provide that care – so it become more an issue of making sure the tools/services are in place to encourage people to plan for that possible outcome, have public services in place to complement private plans, and support those left without support.March 18, 2014 – 10:59 pmReplyCancel

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *

*

*

N e v e r   m i s s   a   n e w   p o s t !