Old Age: a quiet, often tragic world (2)

Behind the Old Face: Aging in America... The Guilt of a Family Caregiver

Old Age: a quiet, often tragic world (2)

The tragedies of the world sometimes occur quietly. This was the case recently with an elderly woman in a nursing home. This lady—we’ll call her Ruth Brown—came to the nursing home in a very confused state mentally. Her husband was dead and she had no near relatives to care for her, but she was not destitute. Her husband had been a wealthy man, and had set a good deal of money to be applied to his wife’s care after his death. She was to have a private room and good care and the situation was hopeful.

This lady was quite reclusive for some time and lived in her room like a snail in its shell. Because she was confused a legal guardian was appointed to manage her affairs. This seemed best at the time.

But Mrs. Brown improved. She began socializing with others and in time was quite rational again, with only one exception–she could not accept her husband’s death.

But this was not the end of the story. Mrs. Brown’s distant relatives—and heirs—decided that too much money was being spent on her care. At the rate it was going, their own portions would be somewhat diminished by the time she died.

Mrs. Brown would have to be moved not only out of her private room, but out of the nursing home to another less expensive one. She heard of this and objected strongly. It was her money, she said, and she wanted to stay where she was. It was the only home she had and she knew the people around her.

Her objection fell on deaf ears. She was no longer in control of her life or money. The nursing personnel who cared for her, and had seen her slow improvement, objected.

The guardian and the bank were reasoned with, but Mrs. Brown was moved to accommodate some distant relatives who never visited her, nor even dealt with those caring for her personally. She refused to go until the ultimate time when she could refuse no longer.

Then she moved, plunging once more into the world of confusion from which she’s just emerged. Whether she will ever emerge again is doubtful.

Everybody saw what was happening but nobody could do anything. It was all very legal, but a woman’s inner self may have died because of it.

Where is justice for the elderly?

Mrs. Jennie Johnson (fictitious name) is a patient in a local convalescent center. She is a petite lady of 96, not standing over 5’1” in her primly laced black shoes. Her movements are quick and birdlike, and her voice is eager and breathless. Don’t , however, let this fool you!

Jennie Johnson has a will of iron and molds her life to suit your liking. When she broke her hip two years ago, she willed that she would get up and walk again. And she did.

“I could have stayed in a wheelchair after that,” she murmurs, smiling, “but then I’d haver a hard time getting out and about.”

And she does get out and about. She asks politely, but firmly, to be taken out for an afternoon of lunch and shopping. A new hat or even a dentist appointment delights her. She is delighted by the house-plants in bloom that line her windowsill. Her hair is done up properly, and she is scented with cologne. Her room is delightful to visit because it reflects the life of a charming, lively woman.

Mrs Lucille Babcock (fictitious name) resided in the same nursing home. She was not delightful to visit.

Mrs. Babcock was a lonely, confused woman who felt herself to be abandoned by those she loved into an environment which she couldn’t tolerate. When she first came to stay at the nursing home, she was a fairly alert woman, not critically ill, and in general quite charming as a person. Unfortunately she was caught up in a vicious cycle.

Mrs. Babcock didn’t know anyone at the nursing home, and she didn’t want to. They were all so very old, she felt, and she wanted to be near young people.

She wanted to go back to her home, but her daughter didn’t feel she could manage her mother’s care alone. The daughter came to dislike visiting Mrs. Babcock because of her own strong sense of guilt, and Mrs. Babcock’s pleas to be taken away.

It is a rare individual who is unmoved at the site of a parent’s tears. The daughter visited less frequently, and Mrs. Babcock grew ever more distraught. She began sitting by the front door, crying and waiting, or insisting that her things be packed to go. As she grew more confused mentally, she even tried to leave the home in her wheelchair—to no avail.

Efforts were made by the personnel to calm her and encourage the family to visit more. Mrs. Babcock was taken out shopping, and she was included in a coffee discussion group. She began to relate to others socially, but still all her hopes centered on improving enough to go home as her daughter promised she could when she was well. And she did improve a great deal.

But she was not taken home. When she finally realized in great despair that she was never going home, she died in a matter of weeks.

What was the difference between Mrs. Babcock and Mrs. Johnson? It involved more than their state of physical health. The differences were in their attitudes about themselves and their families’ attitudes and feelings.

Mrs. Jennie Johnson feels needed. Her daughter cannot visit much, but she never allows her to feel forgotten. She receives cards and letters, cookies and plants. Mrs. Babcock’s family implied wordlessly that she was excess baggage to them. Mrs. Johnson feels that she is helping her daughter by living in a nursing home. Mrs. Babcock simply felt she’s been shut away and forgotten.

Had Mrs. Babcock’s family been able to overcome their own feelings enough to help Mrs. Babcock feel needed and useful, or had young volunteers, perhaps, visited with her and appreciated her lively wit and clever mind, she might have settled in as happy as Mrs. Johnson and lived to 96 as well.

Mrs. Babcock died, as others will die, of loneliness and desperation, unless we learn how to show the aged they are still useful and needed as persons.

The Mrs. Babcock’s of the world have much to offer. Cannot the rest of us take a little time to discover what it is?

I know Mrs Brown, Mrs. Babcock and Mrs. Johnson. I have met many of them many times throughout my career, but I didn’t write the article. This was an article sent to me by a friend, and son of a former client of mine and loved man I feature in my book. The stories of these 3 ladies was written by Shirley Brugger in December of 1974 for the Tacoma Washington Tribune. I could have easily wrote this story today.

I only got to the part when Mrs. Babcock died of loneliness and despair before the tears streamed down my face. I have said many times that eldercare hasn’t changed, but Shirley’s article was the confirmation that brought my thoughts to black and white right in front of my eyes.

We still don’t value our elders, they still die lonely desperate lives in nursing homes across the country, and distant relatives are still stealing from wealthy elderly relatives. I can easily recall names of former clients who also were forced to less than satisfactory care and ripped out of the home they loved and the friends they had so the greedy self-centred and uncaring family members could reserve their inheritance. I’ve cared for those who have been forgotten, who don’t ever get a Christmas card or visit.

Can’t we do better than we did nearly 40 years ago? Will you be the one who dies a lonely death in a nursing home one day, or will we create a better aging future which includes focusing on worth, emotions, inclusion and legal protections for seniors from these evil perpetrators that are most often family?

I hope this encourages you to call an elderly relative, stop for a visit, or send a card on a regular basis, just to let them know they matter. Let’s be the voice for those who can’t speak and advocate for protections and creating something better for ourselves and future generations.