Approach
I sometimes get asked why I work with older people, and the answer to that begins with my genuinely finding people of any age interesting.
The specific interest with people older than myself - and let's face it, until I'm the oldest person living, there will always be people who are older than me - is that they have lived through a past that I won't ever experience, and they are currently experiencing things I may go through in the future. So, for me, people who are older hold a dual fascination.
Some years ago, I was doing a short piece of work with some older people in a particularly well-heeled part of southern England. This small group had been diagnosed as having either dementia, or depression. At lunch, I sat with an older woman, and an older man. We talked about the places in which we'd lived. The older man told how, as a very young man in the 1930s and 1940s, he'd worked for what was the Foreign and Colonial Office in what he described as 'Keen-yah' (for the uninitiated, this is Kenya - and the modern equivalent would be the UK government's Foreign and Diplomatic Service. For film buffs, think White Mischief). Next, the older woman recounted her story of how, in the 1940s, her husband - a British veterinary surgeon - had gone to work for the Brazilian government and how she'd given birth to and brought up four children in the Brazilian rainforest.
Then they asked me, what was the most exotic place I'd ever lived? And I had to admit it was Sheffield (in my defence - which may make some sense to UK readers - I am a 'southern softie' whose dad was from Hull).
So, older people have a wealth of experience to share. Not everyone's lived in the rainforest, or even in Sheffield, but there will be something just as fascinating to uncover. Learning about that individual's past is the first thing for me (and an understanding that, for some, "the past..." is literally "....another country").
The second thing is learning about the experiences of the here and now. I wouldn't ask a 7 year old for an authoritative account of what it feels like to be a teenager any more than I'd ask a 40 year old what it's like to be 80 (if you did, you'd probably get some interesting insights, but these might be more about the prejudices those aged 7 and 40 hold about their respective elders).
How do I apply this approach to my work?
Many of the older people I talk with are very ill and facing serious barriers to their lives because of insufficient money, poor housing, a lack of good quality relationships, disabilities, and other issues.
I can have a very good guess at imagining what this might be like - and that some of that experience may be hard, sometimes frightening, sometimes also enlightening - but it will still be a guess.
To know what to offer to alleviate, support, enhance and acknowledge how life is for people in those stages, I - all of us - need to hear and respond to that voice of experience.
Doing this helps us live and work together better and, on a completely selfish level, helps me better understand what I might face in my own future.
Of course, if and when I am older, and if I am ill or have disabilities, it will be a different world than now - just as Sheffield is not the Brazilian rainforest - but I will hopefully, having listened, arrive at that point with some useful insights.
A key part of my approach is to treat older people as adults. Sounds obvious, doesn't it? - until you realise that not everyone does this, especially once someone becomes ill or disabled in older age. Older adults may be having a hard time - or they may be having a good time - but as adults, all of us should be as much in charge of our own lives as possible.
One other thing I know - I have never yet met an older adult who thinks the term 'elderly' applies to them, or who wants to be referred to as 'elderly' or - worse - described collectively as 'the elderly'. (Would you like it? Bear in mind that in the UK, in social policy terms, being 'elderly' starts at around age 50). Maybe we should stop.
Other terms I personally dislike and avoid using are 'toileting' and 'feeding'. I don't 'toilet' or 'feed' myself. I go to the loo, and I eat (albeit not at the same time. Or in the same room). If you're supporting another person to help them use the loo, or help them to eat, it's better to use these more normal, more human, terms (again - not at the same time. Or in the same room).
I understand why some adult children talk about the older parents they are supporting in terms of having swapped roles - as in 'I am the parent now and my mum is the child' - but I also see this as a much more complex situation than this simple phrase might suggest. It would be good to find other ways to talk about this stage of life.
You can find out more about how my approach continues to be shaped by the people I meet and work with in the blog page, The Stories I've Heard ... and The Lessons I've Learned.
The specific interest with people older than myself - and let's face it, until I'm the oldest person living, there will always be people who are older than me - is that they have lived through a past that I won't ever experience, and they are currently experiencing things I may go through in the future. So, for me, people who are older hold a dual fascination.
Some years ago, I was doing a short piece of work with some older people in a particularly well-heeled part of southern England. This small group had been diagnosed as having either dementia, or depression. At lunch, I sat with an older woman, and an older man. We talked about the places in which we'd lived. The older man told how, as a very young man in the 1930s and 1940s, he'd worked for what was the Foreign and Colonial Office in what he described as 'Keen-yah' (for the uninitiated, this is Kenya - and the modern equivalent would be the UK government's Foreign and Diplomatic Service. For film buffs, think White Mischief). Next, the older woman recounted her story of how, in the 1940s, her husband - a British veterinary surgeon - had gone to work for the Brazilian government and how she'd given birth to and brought up four children in the Brazilian rainforest.
Then they asked me, what was the most exotic place I'd ever lived? And I had to admit it was Sheffield (in my defence - which may make some sense to UK readers - I am a 'southern softie' whose dad was from Hull).
So, older people have a wealth of experience to share. Not everyone's lived in the rainforest, or even in Sheffield, but there will be something just as fascinating to uncover. Learning about that individual's past is the first thing for me (and an understanding that, for some, "the past..." is literally "....another country").
The second thing is learning about the experiences of the here and now. I wouldn't ask a 7 year old for an authoritative account of what it feels like to be a teenager any more than I'd ask a 40 year old what it's like to be 80 (if you did, you'd probably get some interesting insights, but these might be more about the prejudices those aged 7 and 40 hold about their respective elders).
How do I apply this approach to my work?
Many of the older people I talk with are very ill and facing serious barriers to their lives because of insufficient money, poor housing, a lack of good quality relationships, disabilities, and other issues.
I can have a very good guess at imagining what this might be like - and that some of that experience may be hard, sometimes frightening, sometimes also enlightening - but it will still be a guess.
To know what to offer to alleviate, support, enhance and acknowledge how life is for people in those stages, I - all of us - need to hear and respond to that voice of experience.
Doing this helps us live and work together better and, on a completely selfish level, helps me better understand what I might face in my own future.
Of course, if and when I am older, and if I am ill or have disabilities, it will be a different world than now - just as Sheffield is not the Brazilian rainforest - but I will hopefully, having listened, arrive at that point with some useful insights.
A key part of my approach is to treat older people as adults. Sounds obvious, doesn't it? - until you realise that not everyone does this, especially once someone becomes ill or disabled in older age. Older adults may be having a hard time - or they may be having a good time - but as adults, all of us should be as much in charge of our own lives as possible.
One other thing I know - I have never yet met an older adult who thinks the term 'elderly' applies to them, or who wants to be referred to as 'elderly' or - worse - described collectively as 'the elderly'. (Would you like it? Bear in mind that in the UK, in social policy terms, being 'elderly' starts at around age 50). Maybe we should stop.
Other terms I personally dislike and avoid using are 'toileting' and 'feeding'. I don't 'toilet' or 'feed' myself. I go to the loo, and I eat (albeit not at the same time. Or in the same room). If you're supporting another person to help them use the loo, or help them to eat, it's better to use these more normal, more human, terms (again - not at the same time. Or in the same room).
I understand why some adult children talk about the older parents they are supporting in terms of having swapped roles - as in 'I am the parent now and my mum is the child' - but I also see this as a much more complex situation than this simple phrase might suggest. It would be good to find other ways to talk about this stage of life.
You can find out more about how my approach continues to be shaped by the people I meet and work with in the blog page, The Stories I've Heard ... and The Lessons I've Learned.
