When behaviour changes…

Last week I began a series of roundtable sessions with the staff of one of my social care consultancy clients looking at changed behaviour for people who are living with dementia.

The topics for discussion are pretty diverse, everything from verbal and physical aggression to repetition, paranoia and accusations, walking and restlessness through to anxiety, tearfulness and feeling emotional, wakefulness and disturbed sleeping, through to losing, hiding or hoarding objects/items and losing sexual inhibitions.

Whatever direction our conversations go in, the focus is on understanding and supporting the person with their symptoms, and if possible finding ways to alleviate those symptoms. I am completely against any references to challenging behaviour and the inevitably negative pathway that terminology leads us down.

I have written before about the need to understand that any behavioural changes a person with dementia is experiencing are most likely due to an unmet need. In essence, behavioural change is a way of communicating when trying to make yourself understood in other ways simply isn't possible because of your dementia.

The cause of behavioural changes can be physical (something happening in the person’s brain because of their dementia or another physical or mental illness) environmental (including within a previously familiar environment) or human (directly resulting from being in the company of a person or persons). Sometimes there is no obvious cause at all, which is why behavioural changes are so difficult for the person themselves to cope with, and for those around them to support appropriately.

Reverting to medication is, for me, the absolute last resort (See my blog on the 'chemical cosh'), and as understanding of dementia grows I hope that more health and social care professionals will embrace a care and support approach rather than a medication approach, and indeed families and people with dementia themselves will advocate ever more strongly for this.

As someone whose father was medicated with antipsychotics (and other sedating medication), I know first-hand how dad’s symptoms improved when that medication was removed. But what are the options if you want to take a care and support approach? My top tips are:

Person-centred support at all times 

The person at the centre of their care and support at all times might sound like a simple idea, but it still doesn’t happen universally. Pay particular attention to listening to the person and observing their body language - it will tell you a lot about how they are feeling. Empathise and understand, tuning into the person’s needs (either explicitly stated or what you can learn by reading between the lines), and reflect on your interactions - what have you learnt? What could you change?

Ensure the person has access to purposeful and meaningful (to them) occupation 

Occupation is many different things to many different people - it may be something personal to the individual (like a hobby or interest), it may involve being supported to care for themselves (For example, with personal care or when making drinks or meals) or it may involve doing things for others (For example, advocacy, volunteering, using craft skills to make useful items, befriending or peer support). Whatever occupation means to the person you are supporting, make sure they have the opportunity to pursue it to the fullest possible extent. 

An environment that is responsive to the person’s needs 

Environment is so often overlooked when thinking about supporting a person with dementia. A ‘dementia friendly environment’ may sound like a cute and cuddly phrase, but it’s actually really important, and it’s about a lot more than just signage and red toilet seats! If the person is disorientated in their environment, frustrated at being unable to navigate, feeling unsafe, confused, or angry as a result of their surroundings, it will undoubtedly feed into distressing behavioural symptoms for the person.

Preservation of the person’s independence and individuality 

When a person is diagnosed with dementia, the tendency is often to do things for them rather than with them. Big mistake! Involve the person in everything you are supporting them with. Avoid being risk-adverse, and give the person the opportunities they need to be themselves and to shine. Embrace the person's life story and everything that makes them who they are.

Ensure that the person isn’t experiencing any undiagnosed pain, symptoms of another physical or mental health condition or side-effects of medication(s)

Get concerns about other health problems checked out, being persistent with health professionals if necessary. Be particularly mindful of any pain problems, as these are often missed in a person who is living with dementia. Pain can be extremely debilitating, affecting the person’s whole outlook, and chances are it will be a contributing factor in any behavioural symptoms they are experiencing. Also be mindful of the effects of medication(s).

Support for the person’s wellbeing and positive relationships with the individual(s) involved in their life 

Never underestimate wellbeing. It’s a barely understood word (which means to be comfortable, healthy and happy) that can have big implications when a person with dementia isn’t experiencing it. Equally, fractious relationships (which are common, particularly in family situations) are very counterintuitive when it comes to supporting behavioural symptoms. For family members in particular, being aware of how to improve your own wellbeing and participate in healthy relationships is as important as focusing on these aspects for your loved one. If you project a positive approach (For example, I endeavoured - although didn't always succeed - to never to cry in front of my dad) that will rub off on those around you.

Of course, in a perfect world everyone’s care and support would follow these principles. If it did, many of the changed behaviours that are associated with dementia would be greatly reduced, and for some people, barely noticeable at all. Perhaps then, the greatest tip of all is to say that it’s never too early to begin these good habits. Waiting until the person you are caring for is living with behavioural symptoms associated with their dementia isn’t too late, but it certainly isn’t as early as it could be.

The power to turn around the tide of ‘challenging behaviour’ negativity and show a caring and supportive approach to the changed behaviour that is associated with dementia is something that rests with each one of us, no matter what our role or responsibilities.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook

The failure of post-diagnosis support

It’s not often that the content of TV programmes stays with me, but the recent BBC ‘Hospital’ series, following the fortunes of patients and staff at Imperial Trust’s hospitals in London, and ‘Granddad, dementia and me’ that I wrote about last month, both fall into that category.

Documentaries can teach us a lot, and even allowing for the selective nature of TV editing and the luxury of being a passive viewer rather than a stressed subject with a camera pointing at you, I feel it’s important that the learning from these two programmes isn’t lost.

The third episode of ‘Hospital’ featured two gentlemen living with dementia. Firstly we were introduced to Carl:

Narrator: “75-year-old Carl has dementia. His family brought him to A&E after he became aggressive at home. Yesterday morning he walked out of the hospital and was missing for 13 hours. The police found him wandering the streets alone and brought him back to A&E.”

Dr Barbara Cleaver, Emergency Medicine Consultant: “Three people to look after him at the moment including security because he is in an unfamiliar environment, it’s noisy, it’s bright, there’s lots going on. I suspect that’s really playing into his underlying diagnosis and making things much worse for him.”

Narrator: “For his own safety, Carl is being held in room Q, the space reserved for psychiatric patients.”

My alternative commentary would be:

“Carl, a gentleman living with dementia, was missing his wife who for her own health needed a break from 24/7 unsupported caring. Carl, confused and frustrated that he couldn’t find his wife, lashed out at those around him through no fault of his own, and without the skills and support they needed, family members took Carl to a place they thought he would be safe. Carl, however, became disorientated in this alien environment and went to look for his wife for reassurance and familiarity.”

Later, we were introduced to Stanley:

Narrator: “85-year-old Stanley has vascular dementia. This is his 4th admission in three months. Around 25% medical patients treated annually by the Trust have dementia. They are accommodated in a specialist ward until their social care can be arranged.”

My alternative commentary would be:

“Stanley, poorly supported in the community, has had repeated inpatient stays. At present Stanley does not require acute medical treatment, and would undoubtedly have lived far better with his dementia had his family and social care been properly resourced to support Stanley from his diagnosis onwards.”

Were Carl and Stanley featured because their stories are somehow usual? Sadly I suspect quite the opposite. Carl and Stanley are the norm. The failure in post-diagnosis support for people living with dementia and their families is something I have written about countless times. Not only is it a disgrace that families end up in the situations faced by Carl and Stanley, it is also a complete false economy.

My dad was diagnosed 14 years ago. Since then we’ve had numerous dementia-related initiatives from different governments and significant investment into dementia education for healthcare professionals via Health Education England. And yet we still have:

·       People attending A&E because it’s the only place guaranteed to ‘do’ something for them when their family can’t cope with ‘aggression’ or the person has been found ‘wandering’ (not my choice of language)

·       People with dementia being placed in rooms intended for psychiatric patients (that are not remotely dementia friendly)

·       Medical and security staff seemingly untrained in supporting a person with dementia (and loads of stigmatizing language)

·       People remaining stuck in hospital because care packages are so difficult to arrange

·       Family carers at their wits end, wanting to care for their loved one but utterly unsupported

·       No signs of dementia friendly environments (in people's own homes or health/social care facilities)

 

·       No mention of some of the good work that has been done to help people in hospital, like 'This is me' and John's Campaign.

Add in what we saw in ‘Granddad, dementia and me’ where the gentleman featured who was living with dementia, Tom, was drugged and sectioned, and overall in both programmes precious little sign of any choice, control, empowerment, peer support, occupation or activity, life story work and other non-pharmacological treatments, positive behaviour support or, frankly, anything I would be proud of (beyond the outcome shown in Tom story) and I honestly question how much REAL progress has been made in the last 14 years.

By the time a person attends A&E, there have potentially been numerous red-flags that the family needed support. A dementia diagnosis in itself is the first of these. Once things get so out of control that the person is in hospital (which is one of the worst possible environments for a person with dementia - it will only increase the person's confusion and disorientation making them upset and/or angry), the effect on everyone involved isn’t favourable.

Some simple preventative advice and support could at best avoid, or at least significantly delay, a person ever ending up in a crisis situation. Why do we not educate families, at diagnosis and continually thereafter, about (in no particular order):

·       Making their home dementia friendly

·       Accessing peer support and empowerment

·       Occupation and activity - The myriad of different options to keep busy and how to access them

·       Collating and using life stories and other non-pharmacological therapies to support a person experiencing changed behaviour

·       Training: For the person with dementia and anyone in the family unit who wants it. Knowledge is power for many people. Knowing what is happening in the person’s brain, how those changes could affect the person and ways of providing optimal care and support (including self-care for the person with dementia)

·        Carer resilience - Ways of coping, identifying when you aren’t coping and sources of support when you aren’t coping (that actually exist and respond)

Instead, as episode three of ‘Hospital’ concluded, we learnt that Carl was now being cared for in an acute mental health unit and visited daily by his wife, and Stanley was settling in well to his care home. Would either of these gentlemen have chosen these two places of residence? I doubt it. And from the perspective of the tax payer, both are very expensive options (Stanley’s care home costs £1700 a week, plus because of his ‘complex needs’, an additional £2300 for one-to-one care. It is funded by NHS Continuing Healthcare. We never learn what Carl’s acute mental health bed costs).

Worst of all though, is the cost in personal anguish for these two gentleman and their families. We’ve only very briefly dipped into their stories, but they represent examples being replicated every day of how a diagnosis of dementia can needlessly lead to lives unravelling, all for the want of a holistic, long-term package of what is comparatively low-level post-diagnosis support.

 

Ask yourself: For a country aiming to be the best place in the world for people with dementia to live, is that the best we can do?

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook

I need you

In my 2013 blog post ‘What is dementia’ I focused on the symptoms of dementia, noting the following amongst my very long list of ways in which a person can be affected by dementia:

“An increasing need for reassurance (someone who was previously independent becoming clingy or losing confidence), or a need to be constantly reminded about things”

Back then, I wasn’t aware of the phrase ‘trailing’ or describing a person with dementia as ‘following’ others around. I literally just thought of the need to be close to someone you trust as a need for reassurance.

However, watching the recent BBC Documentary ‘Granddad, dementia and me’, the phrase ‘obsessed’ was used repeatedly to explain Tom (who is living with vascular dementia) needing to be close to his wife (and carer) Pam. Tom’s need to be constantly with Pam had, for Pam, got to a point where she needed some time away from Tom.

The film throws up numerous issues which I will explore in my August D4Dementia blog, but I think the need Tom had to be close to Pam, and the effect on Tom and Pam's wellbeing when they were happily reunited towards the end of the documentary, is a really interesting one.

From the perspective of a spouse or family member, if you are used to your loved one being fairly independent, the way in which dementia can leave a person without the confidence to be on their own can be difficult to understand, adjust to or successfully support. Many spouses or family members end up feeling suffocated and like they haven’t got a minute to themselves. This was very strongly portrayed in ‘Granddad, dementia and me’ which in the early part of the film really made Tom look - to someone without a good understanding of dementia - like he was a nightmare to live with.

Look behind the visuals a TV camera provides, however, and the story is a different one. Firstly, the changes in his brain caused by his vascular dementia (the same type of dementia my dad had) weren’t Tom’s fault (even with risk reduction, no one is guaranteed to not develop a type of dementia). These changes were even more baffling for Tom than those around him – unless you are a person living with dementia, you cannot possibly understand exactly what it feels like to be a person who is.

When things are happening to us that we don’t understand, the natural human tendency we have from birth is to gravitate towards someone who is familiar, who we trust, find comfort with and love. We want to know that everything is ok. And if we have an unmet need that we cannot articulate, the natural reaction is to search for someone who might be able to interpret this, which is most likely the person we are closest to in our life, usually our spouse if our parents are no longer around.

In parenting, this is a given. As mums and dads we accept and expect that our young child will seek us out when they need us, particularly if they don’t have the language to articulate their needs or the ability to meet them independently. Indeed, clinginess in a young child is otherwise known as the child seeing you as a ‘secure base’, with separation anxiety accepted as a natural part of child development.

I appreciate that in marriage this isn’t a given – you marry an independent adult and expect them to remain that way. But there is another way of looking at the reassurance a person with dementia needs from the person closest to them – You are their ‘secure base’. It is a mark of how strong your bond is that you are the person that your loved one needs to be closest to.

I’m not for one moment suggesting an adult with dementia is now a child – they remain an adult regardless of their cognitive impairment. But the narrative and attitudes we have towards happy and successful parenting, and the narrative and attitudes we have towards supporting a person who is living with dementia, are poles apart and children are definitely getting the better deal!

That is not to in any way undermine the huge efforts made by families around the world in caring for their loved ones who are living with dementia. I was appalled at the criticism of Pam and her family – yes, we can all spot mistakes from the comfort of our sofa, but when you are living the experience it is very different.

What I wish is that Tom, Pam and their family could have been shown receiving really proactive support to ensure that they could give Tom what he needed. The film showed that medicating Tom wasn’t the answer, and two periods as a mental health inpatient (including sectioning – my views on sectioning are here) didn’t help.

So what is general good advice for any family whose loved one wants to be with them 24/7:

Occupation and activity

One of the major features of the first part of Tom's film is how little he had to occupy himself with. He was never shown to have any responsibilities or daily tasks, meaningful occupations, hobbies or activities that he enjoyed – not a healthy situation for a person who’d been a high-achieving, hardworking businessman.

 

That is not to say that everyone who lives with dementia will feel motivated to do things, my dad certainly went through a period when he refused to do anything except watch TV and look at books, and many people with dementia develop depression alongside their dementia which can also contribute to not wanting to do anything, but presenting those opportunities and making them a consistent part of every day life is vital.

 

Disabling people when they still have capabilities is a disaster. Not realising the person still has capabilities is a double disaster.

 

Do things together

So, you might think that ideal occupations and activities are ones that the person does alone, but think again. The person may not know how to begin, let alone successfully complete, a task. Doing things together not only means you being able to guide the person, but it enables the person to model what you are doing – it’s a subtle activity that is often wordless, and may happen without you even realising it as the person watches and copies you. A simple but vital way to boost the person’s independence without them having to acknowledge ways in which they are struggling.

 

Get your environment in order

If the person can’t remember their way to the bathroom or the kitchen, they are more likely to rely on following you to find their way. Some dementia friendly signage and simple design changes can all help to augment the person’s independence – see the world-leading dementia design work from Stirling University for tips and ideas.

 

Be the voice of confidence and reassurance

You may well be tired of telling your loved one "You can do it", but dementia is a very big voice in a person’s life that, essentially, is trying to hold them back, making the person insecure, vulnerable and lacking in confidence. As the most trusted person in your loved one’s life, you have the ability to stop that juggernaut in its tracks (temporarily at least) by being a constant source of support, confidence and reassurance. As the Bette Midler song goes:

 

Did you ever know that you're my hero,

And everything I would like to be?

I can fly higher than an eagle,

For you are the wind beneath my wings

 

Accept the unsaid

Hard and exhausting though the need for constant reassurance and company may be, accepting three little words – that will most likely never be said out loud - can be transformative for your resilience.

"I need you" is what your loved one’s quest for reassurance and confidence is really saying. Take it from someone who was once that needed person, it may be hard at the time but it’s harder when you are no longer needed.

 

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook

 

Why activity is everyone's business

Go into most care homes and you will see a familiar array of staff, from carers to chefs, housekeepers to maintenance personnel. A role you will also often encounter is that of an 'activity coordinator'. All of my dad's three care homes had activity coordinators, all of whom were women and some clearly more suited to the role than others.

In essence an activity coordinator is charged with ensuring that everyone living in the care home gets to do activities that they want to do and enjoy doing. The scope for those activities is largely dictated to by budget, with some care homes having extensive 'activity' programmes that include trips out and even holidays, while others literally scrape around to find pens and paper for residents who want to draw.

Whilst I am the first person to advocate that people living in care homes should have opportunities to engage in 'activity', I am not a fan of the 'activity coordinator' role. Why? Because in my view activity is everyone's business.

By creating a role in a care home that is centred around activity, everyone else working in the care home automatically defaults to that individual for anything related to activity. This is seen with other roles, where everyone goes to the chef for matters relating to food, and everyone goes to the maintenance person if something needs fixing.

The other reason I'm not a fan of this role is that activity is about everything that happens in the day, from the moment you get up to the moment you go to bed. Given that people living in a care home spend most of their day with care staff, it is vital that care staff recognise that everything they do to support that person is, in itself, an activity.

By taking this approach, it is then much easier for care staff to appreciate the need to support the person to do as much as possible, thus retaining maximum independence, rather than just automatically doing everything for them and effectively de-skilling them and taking over their life.

Making a cup of tea, having a shower, getting dressed - these are all activities, just as much as bingo and singing groups. And they can all be expanded upon to go beyond the purely functional. So, for example, making a cup of tea could be about doing it 'the old fashioned way' with loose leaf tea and a tea pot, sparking a reminiscence session. Having a shower could become a full on pampering session, with some gentle exfoliation of hard skin, a massage with body lotion afterwards or a full-on salon-style blow dry. Getting dressed could be about coordinating colours and outfits, dressing up or dressing down, and might even lead onto a mending session if clothing needs some TLC.

Throughout any of these 'activities' songs could be sung, conversation could flow, laughter could be triggered and memories could be drawn upon and mulled over. The problem is, if your care home has an activity coordinator, he or she is unlikely to be involved in these 'care' related activities, and thus these daily occurrences just become bland tasks for the care workforce to 'get through'.

In my consultancy work with care providers, I look at the structure of the workforce in a care home, who is responsible for what, how those responsibilities are carried out, and whether there is, in fact, a better way of approaching how the care home operates. A huge focus for me is how holistic a care home can become, which in practice means frontline staff taking on a more fluid role that responds to the individual needs of the people living in the care home and treats every interaction as an opportunity to create a special moment with that person.

It is irrelevant if those moments will be remembered, and the fact that they might not is no reason not to create them. There is often a belief that group 'activity' sessions are more memorable, but actually as a person's dementia advances, it is often the one-to-one time spent doing something very simple and very familiar, like eating, drinking, folding laundry or making the bed that enhances wellbeing and quality of life more.

Persuading staff to be creative and expressive whilst providing this type of essential support is often very challenging; many would much rather just default to the activity coordinator when conversation and interaction is needed. But care staff who approach their work with an emphasis on both supporting the person and creating an activity out of everything they do generally have much more job satisfaction.

So what would I suggest care providers do with their activity coordinators? By all means turn them into event managers, charged with creating those important community experiences in the care home, and indeed helping people living in the care home to get out and about. If they are great communicators and creative types (which they certainly should be!), then utilise that to show other staff how to communicate more effectively and be creative in their support.

Encourage all of your staff to show off their talents - you may have some real gems who can play instruments or sing beautifully, people who are good at needlework, crafts, gardening, cooking or DIY. Support them to bring those talents into their job, whatever their 'official' role is meant to be. And likewise with your residents and relatives - find out what talents they have and how they might express those for individual benefit or the greater good.

The best care homes do this seamlessly, because they appreciate that activity is everyone's business and they facilitate that way of working. It may mean staff allocations need to change or rotas need to be adjusted. It may mean that someone in one role is actually much more suited to something else. It will almost certainly need training, mentoring and monitoring, but ultimately you will have created a care home far closer to what a home truly is, and what living a life in a care home and working in one should represent.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook