Assumptions
July 1, 2008 at 4:27 am (carer, carers, elderly, mental health, old age, older people, social care, social issues, social work, socialcare, work)
Tags: alzheimers, assumptions, caregivers, carer, carers, dementia, domiciliary respite, elderly, family, health, older people, options for care, residential respite, respite, respite care, social services, social work, United Kingdom
I work in the inner city and have since I did my first practice placement in the first year of my social work course almost 10 years ago now. For as long as I have been working as a social worker , I have only ever worked in the inner city - different parts of it granted but its what I’m used to and what I know.
While most of the work is in the overcrowded tower blocks that circle the main business districts and higher class shopping areas of the city - neither mental illness nor old age spare any income bracket or social class.
So yesterday, I found myself in a house that I had to seriously brace myself before entering - and not in the way I’m accustomed to. I am no estate agent, but the size and location would put a fair multi-million estimate on the property.
Inside though, the issues, pain and confusion were the same as those I see in the high rises that are less than a mile away.
Mr A has dementia and goes for his walk in the local area. Mrs A lives with the fear that every time he goes out he won’t be able to find his way home or he gets on buses and ends up the other side of the city.
She surruptiously (as he won’t tolerate identity bracelets or pendants) sticks a label with his name and address on the inside of his jacket when he leaves - just in case. Every day.
They are and have been a very close couple. Now, Mr A won’t see anyone else. I got in because I said I work with the doctor (who had been to assess him previously and asked me to follow up)
Mr A with his confusion is still of an age that equates ‘what the doctor says’ as being irrefutable.
But Mr A won’t let his family visit anymore. He doesn’t like Mrs A going out without him and she doesn’t like leaving him alone.
She told me about the loneliness she felt. Not being able to have her family visit. She told me of a completely different Mr A before the dementia had taken hold who used to love chatting with his daughters and having the grandchildren and great-grandchildren come to play in the garden.
She wanted him back but over the years had become resigned to the reality of the current situation.
Now, she just wanted to a break.
When I explained to her about the provisions of regular residential respite care she almost snatched my hand off. I ran through a list of the local carers groups and user-led groups that I felt would be helpful. Possibilities of practical things that could be done and help that could be offered.
We ran through the possibilities of domiciliary respite care (where someone comes into the home and provides a sitting service) and various telecare devices which can provide some reassurance.
This is a situation that is far from uncommon for me and often, when I visit following a medical assessment or diagnosis of dementia, I will be the first ‘face’ of social care than a family have ever been presented with.
And as I was talking, I was aware of my own assumptions - going into a truly palatial home isn’t what I am used to. Perhaps I used to make more assumptions about the way people live and what needs are there.
But really, the work is exactly the same. The needs are still there and the pain and confusion is still there.
I know I wasn’t really expecting it any other way, but sometimes when you walk through those kinds of houses in those kinds of areas and you glance into the windows and wonder what it would be like to live that way, usually with some wistfulness - the people inside the houses do live, breathe, worry and feel in the same way - they get old and grow ill in the same ways.
They just probably don’t have to make the judgements about the loaf of bread or the extra winter heating so often…



