Positive Ageing

Today

We've been tackling a couple of health issues lately. I've been signed off by my podiatrist. He commented that it had been helpful that I'd sought advice so early. "Some people put up with things until they can hardly move" he said "and that makes treatment so much harder."

Paul, on the other hand, belongs to the grin until you can't bear it school of thought. He was getting used to his back teeth falling out and thought the loss of a crown simply meant that he would have to have it screwed back in on the NHS. Not so, the tooth and crown loss turned out to be a symptom of a deep-seated infection leading to bone loss in the jaw and to a £3K+ bill for implants.

He's also become so used to dizziness and intermittent hearing loss that he thought it was just part of the ageing process. I nagged him "You shouldn't have to put up with this, go and ask for help." Having made sure he avoided the GP at the practice who attributes all ills to Paul's supersize, he saw a locum who told him that he had a deep-seated infection in one ear. Paul's bunging in the drops and hoping for an improvement.

In My Day

One of my less pleasant, but certainly educational, jobs was a stint as a nursing auxiliary at the D'Arcy Nursing Home in Hove. A group of impecunious and very elderly ladies (mostly - I think we had one gentleman) spent the remnants of their pensions for the privilege of a room at this place. Quite frankly, the standard of care was just about adequate and depended much on the skill and attitude of individual staff members. There was no attempt to rehabilitate residents after injuries and care was really limited to keeping them clean and fed. We hardly ever saw a doctor or physio.

Two of the ladies suffered very badly from arthritis. the way they dealt with this complaint was driven by their personalities and again the home made no efforts to encourage independence. In a little room near the office was a sweet old dear - let's call her Gladys. She was resigned and smiling and as a result was totally bedridden, requiring a high level of care by the nurses who had to lift her on and off commodes, and feed and clean her. One day it was my turn. I had to cut her nails. Inactivity and arthritis meant that her hands were in a permanently clenched position. I prised open these hands so that I could cut the overlong nails and clean the palms of her hands which were smelly and covered with unsloughed dead skin cells.

Let's call lady number two Ethel. She was a cantankerous woman who was obliged to share a room with a willfully demented old dear. Ethel bossed this person about, refusing to accept that she was as helpless as she made out. Ethel refused all help-struggling up on arthritic legs every day to get to the washroom to have a good wash, taking herself to the toilet and so on. This meant that she remained much more independent than Gladys. She was unpopular with the nurses because of the cantankerous ways, but I rather admired her energy and independence. When she unfortunately fell out of bed one night so that she really was confined to bed for a couple of days I was only too happy to give her blanket baths, knowing how important cleanliness was to her. And she was soon back up again.

I can't see the point of just putting up with things if I don't have to. Who knows, I guess my cantankerous days are something to look forward to.