Caring for the Elderly: Part 9
I always try to write the posts in this series in way that proves useful to others who are facing a similar experience. Caring, old age, illness and our own mortality are all matters that will cross our path sooner or later. This time I shall be addressing a subject that many of us tread carefully around. Some people will not countenance discussing it in any way, shape or form as it makes us uncomfortable or even scared. In Western culture death is often the elephant in the room; a topic that should not be avoided but frequently is, due to etiquette and other curious societal foibles. Hence, we use phrase like “passed” or “gone” instead of dead and we often invoke religious based platitudes, regardless of whether we have any particular faith or not. Simply put, our response to the inevitability of our own demise and that of those who we love is ambiguous to say the least. I hope in the years to come we grow up in this respect and find a comfortable means of making death socially acceptable to discuss and plan for.
My Mother recently celebrated her 89th birthday. My Father was 90 in the Summer. As we’re currently halfway through November the subject of Christmas cards has raised its head. It’s a ritual for many households at this time of year. Due to my parents age and general health, writing is a challenge, so I usually address all of the envelopes and add any important messages or postscripts in Christmas cards. All the pair of them have to do is sign their name but even this has to be done over a period of days. Sadly, one of the most striking aspects of this process is the number of names in my parent’s address book that have been struck through. So many family members, friends and colleagues are no longer with us. Each year the number of cards sent, reduces further. Every now and then in the following spring, they’ll be a letter from a son or a daughter politely pointing out that the recipient of a recent card is now deceased. This gradual attrition of one’s social circle is yet another factor that can add to the inherent sadness of many elderly people.
Despite being 90 years old, my Father is the “baby” of his family. He has two Sisters; one is 92 and another who’s 94. Sadly, despite being a fixed constant in an ever-changing universe, my eldest Aunt was recently diagnosed with a terminal condition and is currently at home receiving palliative care. My Father has spoken to here on the phone but due to ill health he is not able to visit her. However, both are very pragmatic individuals who understand the nature of old age and its consequences. Yet their stoical nature doesn’t make the situation any easier. Usually in life, whenever we are faced with difficult matters, if we keep ourselves busy, throw ourselves into our work or at least have some degree of agency with regard to the problem, it greatly helps us to cope. Yet both my Father and my Aunt are at a stage where life is something that just happens to them, rather than an activity they’re actively participating in.
I feel that this is perhaps one of the biggest challenge’s carers face. Is there a way to find a positive aspect in such bleak situations? Well I believe so. Let us for a moment return to the Christmas card situation. Rather than focusing upon the absence of cards from those who are long gone, I try to draw attention to those that have been received. When a card arrives from surviving family, I encourage my parents to reflect on past good times. “Oh look, here’s one from Uncle Bill. Remember that time he took us Shrimping”. Often this can lead to a positive discussion and raise spirits. Naturally, conversations regarding the imminent death of a loved one are harder to spin in this fashion. But I tend to take comfort in a quote from Doctor Seuss, the American children’s author. “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened”. I think this especially relevant with regard to those we love. My 94-year-old Aunt has always been a force for good in my life. She has always been wise, patient, exciting (she had a Tiger skin in her lounge and stuffed animals due to her world travels) and most of all supportive. I think that these are the things that we should focus on at such times. I believe that is what my father is currently doing. It may not totally assuage the situation but I feel that it helps.
