Resolve to ask people with dementia what THEY want

With over 200 blogs on D4Dementia, some of them now 7 years old, I've decided to spend my 2019 year of blogging by re-visiting some of the topics I’ve covered previously, throwing fresh light on why they remain relevant, and updating them with some of my more recent experiences. For my last blog of 2019, I want to look at how we listen to and respect the viewpoints of people with dementia.

In July 2015, I wrote a blog post entitled: 'Why don't we listen to people with dementia?'. In that blog I said:

“If we are ever to move beyond stigma and discrimination and towards a truly world-class model of support and care for people with dementia, then giving people with dementia a voice and listening to what they have to say really is the only place to start.”

It was, therefore, with some amazement that I read a report about the UK Dementia Congress debate last month entitled, ‘Environmental lies in care homes play an important role in delivering person centred care’. The Journal of Dementia Care said the following about the debate:

“When can you lie to a care home resident? It was a hotly contested issue at UKDC last week, where delegates debated the use of “environmental lies” in care settings, such as fake windows with painted views, “bus stops” to which no bus ever comes, and disguised doors. “As a person with dementia when I go into a care home I do not want them to lie, either in the environment they create or in their actions,” said Keith Oliver, who opposed the motion that deceptive décor can play an important role in delivering person-centred care. It was an impassioned performance from Oliver, who has young onset dementia, which helped sway the audience from favouring environmental lies at the start of the debate to being firmly against by the end. But independent nurse consultant Lynne Phair, fought valiantly in favour of the motion and said there could be a therapeutic value in meeting the person with dementia in their own reality. Phair added: “Environmental lies must be used wisely.” But there was a resounding victory for the motion's opposers – also including Professor Graham Stokes – who had 54% of the audience behind them by the end (compared with 33% at start), while the proposers – also including family member Catherine Naj Dyke - had 37% on their side by the end (40% at the beginning).”

For me, the quote from Keith Oliver says it all, and frankly not only would I have supported Keith had I been at the debate but I wouldn’t have had the temerity to argue against him (which would make me a useless debater!) even if I felt fake environments were a good idea (which I don’t) for one simple reason - He is living with dementia, I am not. My natural standpoint is to show deference to any person living with dementia, putting aside my personal viewpoints and remembering what my dad always told me: “Respect your elders and betters.”

Keith’s views, I suspect, are echoed by many people living with dementia, including the numerous individuals who are living with dementia in care homes and largely don’t have a voice. From my experiences with my dad, I know he found the fake letterbox, door knocker and doorknob put onto his care home bedroom door utterly baffling, and why wouldn’t you? They didn’t function as these items normally would, and they seemed to have been added purely for decoration following a dementia consultant being engaged to ‘improve’ the environment. Sadly, what this consultant didn’t factor in was the amount of confusion and frustration such changes would cause.

In my work with care homes, I have never advocated for the implementation of fake environments. I have always felt, and seen this borne out numerous times, that if the care and support is good enough, if staff really understand dementia and are well trained and supported in their work, then the needs of residents living with dementia will not only be met but continually exceeded.

The money spent on fake environments, which is often considerable, is always likely to be better spent investing in staff. It is people that make the difference in dementia care, nothing is more important than the human element, and to reinforce this I go back to the point I made at the National Care Forum (NCF) Managers Conference last month, and which was reported on by the NCF's Nathan Jones: 

“A hotel environment is just window dressing if the care is not there.”

The type of environmental changes I support are based on bringing the person’s life story alive. I love to see environmental life story work that enables people to be reminded of things in their lives that make them happy or proud. After all, most of us like being surrounded by family photos, mementoes from holidays, and career, hobby, sporting or musical passions or achievements. Most people fill their homes with items that are personal to them, and that is the most apt way to create a supportive environment for a person living with dementia. Even if it’s only within their own bedroom in a care home it is better than the stark, plain, hospital-like rooms that so many people with dementia exist in within care homes, and certainly better than deliberately introducing items or decorations that depict something utterly fake. 

As I said in my September 2016 blog, 'Life story work - The gift that keeps on giving':

“Documenting memories and turning them into vibrant resources that tell their own unique story has a magical quality about it that I can’t put into words – you really just have to try it.”

So, if you run a care home and are planning some environmental changes in 2020 (or beyond), resolve to: Find out what people living with dementia actually want (ask them! And if the people you support aren't able to help, contact organisations like DEEP or Dementia Alliance International), prioritise life story work for anyone you support who wants to participate in that, and always keep it real, not fake.

Thank you for all your support in 2019. Until 2020...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
Like D4Dementia on Facebook

Co-production in health and social care - It really isn't rocket science

Last week was the first ever National Co-production Week, identified on twitter as #CoProWeek. Organised by the Social Care Institute for Excellence, the creation of this awareness raising week marks an important milestone in recognising that if you work in health or social care, it's actually a pretty good idea to listen to, involve and continually work with the people who are using your service(s).

Purely co-incidentally, the start of National Co-production Week also saw the launch of a report I was involved in creating with Carers Trust that looked at the 'Care Act for Carers: One Year On' (PDF). Amongst our recommendations was an explicit remit (on page 23) tasked to one of the pioneer co-production organisations, Think Local Act Personal, to involve carers (people who care, unpaid, for a friend or family member) in services:

"Think Local Act Personal should work with carers to devise and offer training and materials to support practitioners to work with carers to co-design personalised support."

We also reiterate the importance of ‘co-design’ in our 2018 ‘wish list’ (on page 25):

"Social workers and other care practitioners can show that tailored support plans are routinely co-designed and kept under review with carers."

The history of co-production

'Co-design', or 'co-production' may sound like modern day jargon (they are unpopular descriptions with many people I know), but various incarnations of the basic principles of involving people who use services, and their carers and families, in how services are designed, created and run have been around for many years.

If anything, that is my personal disappointment. Through my work I’ve met stalwarts of the 'co-production scene' who have been co-producing for an incredibly long time and yet they feel little has changed on the frontline. In my view, that lack of change isn't a reflection upon those individuals at all, but more about how our health and social care systems respond to those people and the need to challenge the status quo.

Historically, we’ve been far too keen on ‘doing things to people’ rather than truly involving people in their own care and support. We like to tell our fellow citizens how things will work and what will happen to them, being prescriptive and precise, and expecting them just to go along with it. Their own opinions have been seen as irrelevant, perhaps even dangerous, and of course 'professionals know best' anyway. In other words, citizens (patients, service users, carers and whatever other labels you want to affix to ‘Joe Blogs’) should be ‘seen and not heard’.

In June 2012, I wrote a blog entitled ‘How do you make good dementia policy?’. Much of what I talk about in that blog is about co-production, except I didn’t call it co-production then. To me it was just the simple principle of involving people, which I summed up in this quote:

"My view is that you need those with direct past and present knowledge and experience of dementia to be at the forefront of policy making, privately and publically."

Tokenistic involvement isn’t enough

I have a fundamental belief that within health and social care, there is still an arrogance amongst many leaders to even involve citizens in their work, never mind truly embracing co-production and embedding it within their organisations. Often involvement is tokenistic, piecemeal and descends into glorified talking shops, which are then evaluated poorly and deemed pointless.

Budgets to support true co-production rarely exist, or are extremely limited. Interestingly, these funding arrangements are always decided by people employed by organisations, and I do wonder if being in the safely of a salaried job stifles the desire to engage and create beyond your own job description.

That may sound harsh, but given that in 2012 I was writing about the need to involve people who use services and carers in those services, I simply haven't seen enough innovation to justify a more positive assessment. If we could get to a stage whereby the viability of health and social care services was judged by how well they engaged with the people using their services, and their carers and families, I suspect a rapid improvement would soon follow.

Current, classic examples of organisations not engaging are seen on the conference scene, where too often I still see programmes for events that don't include the voices of experience. From the knowledge I have through my work, I don't believe that enough local authorities co-produce their services with their citizens, nor do NHS trusts or social care providers, and likewise for national government.

And yet, in that 2012 blog post I made the value of lived experience crystal clear when I said:

"The greatest educators are people who have learnt from their own experiences."

Time to change

I am impatient for change, I would freely admit that, and those who are embracing the true principles of co-production don't get enough praise for their work. For everyone else, I come back to this quote from that 2012 blog post:

"If you want to know about frontline warfare, you ask a soldier. If you want to know about famine in Africa, you go to Africa and ask the people who are starving. If you want to know about dementia, ask the people living with it and carers past and present who have dedicated their lives to understanding dementia."

For dementia, read any condition, any service, any experience. There are always citizens to ask about their health and care, always something to learn from listening to them, and always a way of meaningfully and fully engaging them in how you serve them now and in the future. It really isn't rocket science.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook 

Why don’t we listen to people with dementia?

Before I get into the substance behind the title I’ve chosen for this blog post, I first want to acknowledge that there are organisations who do listen to people with dementia, and organisations exclusively made up of people with dementia who give those individuals a very prominent voice. However, in both of these instances, this remains a minority representation of people with dementia, and that’s the inspiration behind this blog post.

I chose the title, ‘Why don’t we listen to people with dementia’ purely because the majority of society doesn’t. Despite awareness-raising campaigns that have begun to change the perception of dementia, stigma still looms large, language is still used in a derogatory, belittling way that helps to re-enforce stigma, and people with dementia are largely talked about by others, or ignored completely.

Reflecting on my dad’s life with dementia, he never really had a voice. As a family we didn’t understand dementia for many of the 19 years dad was living with it (and certainly in the first 10 years before his diagnosis), so in essence we were just muddling along together. In the last few years of dad's life, when he lost his more vibrant communication abilities, we did our best to advocate for him, but I appreciate now, more than ever, that the very best we could ever have done for dad was to interpret for him, and where there is interpretation there is margin for error. 

The only true representation of each person’s unique experience of living with a diagnosis of dementia is from that person themselves. Anything else is a substitution.

I understand this more now thanks to some of the inspirational people I’ve been fortunate to meet who are living with dementia. Sharing my dad’s life gave me an education in dementia like none other, but with dad gone, some of the amazing people who are living with dementia that I've met since then help me to keep learning, and that is a gift more precious than I could ever describe.

I was recently asked to compere a launch event for two books – One by Shibley Rahman, an academic, called ‘Living better with dementia’ (which I’ve written a foreword for), and one by Kate Swaffer, a lady living with dementia, called ‘What the hell happened to my brain’. Kate lives in Australia, and I’ve followed her blog since 2012 – a more insightful read would be impossible to find, and I constantly recommend Kate’s writing to anyone looking to learn more about what it’s like to live with her particular experiences of dementia.

Kate Swaffer, Beth Britton and Shibley Rahman

Given the geographical distance between us I’d only ever seen Kate’s presentations on videos, so having the opportunity to listen to her in-person was truly special. Afterwards, I described Kate’s presentation as ‘awesome’ but I’m not sure that really even begins to do it justice.

I know Kate has had many struggles in being recognised and acknowledged as an authoritative individual in her own right, and even more astonishingly, openly demonised by some who disagree with her, frankly, very common sense views. Granted we are all entitled to our own opinions, but I cannot understand why anyone would think Kate shouldn’t share her experiences, or speak out on issues like the use of language around dementia or perceptions of ‘wandering’ and ‘challenging behaviour’. 

The discomfort around Kate’s advocacy for the rights of people with dementia seems to have its roots in the belief that questioning the status quo, the way things have always been ‘done’ and ‘described’, is somehow taboo. Yet surely the reason society has progressed so far in numerous areas of life like medicine, science and technology is precisely because someone decided to question the status quo, do something differently, and find remarkable results.

Like an ostrich, there seems to be a desire to bury heads in the sand, when in reality we should be thanking and applauding people like Kate for having the courage to speak out, and the wisdom to talk so much sense. And yes, the irony of that last statement isn’t lost on me, given that people with dementia have, historically, been seen as being unable to speak out and losing any wisdom they had once dementia is diagnosed.

At the moment I feel there is a perception that a person diagnosed with dementia somehow instantly progresses to having very advanced dementia, with all the communication difficulties that can entail which would make it very difficult to be an outspoken advocate of your personal experiences. In reality, however, for the majority of people diagnosed with dementia, progression is much slower, and the ability to speak out and contribute to debate, policy and the implementation of policy is potentially feasible for a significant period of time, depending on personal circumstances of course.

So where do we go from here? Organisations like DEEP (Dementia Engagement and Empowerment Project), The Scottish Dementia Working Group, the European Working Group of People with Dementia and Dementia Alliance International are increasingly finding that their membership, made up entirely of people who are living with dementia, are finding a voice, but in comparison to the numbers of people who are actually living with dementia, the proportion is tiny.

Amongst the total number of people living with dementia in England, I fully appreciate that the majority may well prefer to keep themselves to themselves – my dad would almost certainly fit into that category if he was still alive and newly diagnosed. People who are diagnosed at a younger age are often more widely heard voices, not least because individuals in that demographic may feel more confident in using social media and blogging. In the end, I’m not sure it matters so much who speaks up, just so long as every person with dementia has equal opportunity.

Then of course it is down to organisations, both national and local, governmental and private corporates (including dementia conference organisers), to listen, and that is perhaps the hardest part of all. Home truths don’t often sit easily, nor does challenging the status quo, as Kate Swaffer has already proven. But if we are ever to move beyond stigma and discrimination and towards a truly world-class model of support and care for people with dementia, then giving people with dementia a voice and listening to what they have to say really is the only place to start.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook  

Reablement for people with dementia

As we approach Easter, a time associated with rebirth, new life, possibility and opportunity, I have found myself thinking about how this correlates with the experience of living with dementia. Historically, a diagnosis of dementia has been seen as a death sentence to endure and suffer, but since that doesn’t tally with how I look back on the years I had with my dad during his dementia, I have become increasingly interested in the concept of reablement.

Reablement is generally associated with helping a person to regain the ability to look after themselves following an illness or injury. You are most likely to see services dedicated to reablement for people who are recovering from trauma (I distinctly remember the wonderfully holistic package of reablement given to my half-brother after he had a road traffic accident), or a stroke, and possibly even for people who are recovering from mental illness or addiction.

I would frame reablement as help to complete essential tasks of daily living, support to pursue hobbies and interests that are mentally and/or physically challenging, and opportunities to grow and develop. For my half-brother, I recall a residential reablement centre he went to after being discharged from hospital where he was supported to look after himself (cooking, laundry, personal care etc), return to participating in the things he enjoyed prior to his accident (hobbies and activities that were important to him), learn new skills, and plan for the future to help him prepare for living independently, getting out and about and returning to employment. He received physiotherapy, occupational therapy, counselling and there were wider family support services.

All of which begs the question, why aren’t the principles of reablement more closely associated with dementia? To put it bluntly, since dementia is a terminal disease, I suspect people with dementia are seen as being unlikely to benefit from a service that supports and encourages independence and autonomy, when traditionally dementia is associated with a degeneration into complete dependence and a loss of voice and identity.

Obviously I’m not questioning the terminal nature of dementia; my dad had vascular dementia on his death certificate. Nor am I suggesting that as dementia progresses a person doesn’t become more dependent -  I know from my dad’s experience that he became totally dependent on 24/7 care, hence why he was in a specialist dementia nursing home for over 8 years.

But behind all of this there are some key variables: 

1.      There is no set pathway for deterioration, everyone experiences this differently and in different time scales. I don’t really support the categorisations of early, middle and late stage dementia – to me these junctures are too specific and not reflective of the fluctuations in the day-to-day life of a person with dementia. Surely aiming to help a person to have the highest level of functioning for as long as possible can only be a good thing?

2.      No matter how advanced a person’s dementia is, there are opportunities for participation in everyday life, it's just that we often don't see these or have time to help them happen. Key examples from my personal experiences are my dad occasionally wanting to take the spoon and feed himself his pureed meal in the last year of his life, or finishing a song in perfect time to the music when he otherwise had virtually no speech. These achievements came about through perseverance, patience and offering encouragement.

3.      We are never going to know what people with dementia are truly capable of if we don’t actually put in the services, like we have for people who experience trauma or stroke, to actually see what is possible. How do we know reablement services aren't just as effective as any of the drugs we currently have , or might have in the future, to treat symptoms or slow down the progression of dementia? Admittedly there have been a few areas of the UK offering reablement to people with dementia, but it certainly isn’t a mainstream service.

Sadly my dad never really experienced any form of official reablement. At the point he was diagnosed with vascular dementia, following ten years of mini strokes and then one much larger stroke, his quality of life and abilities had deteriorated very rapidly. As a family we had been trying to support him but we really didn’t understand what was happening to him, and the health and social care professionals in his life hadn’t been proactive enough to grasp the bull by the horns, diagnose, explain and, crucially, offer dad and us the support we needed.

 

Enabling dad to have maximum independence, occupation and enjoyment in life was pretty much impossible once he was confined to hospital and then moved into the first of the three care homes he would go on to spend the last nine years of his life in. We had some small victories over the years, largely stumbled upon through pure chance – examples include discovering the power of music therapy, the joy of food and eating and the wonderment of connecting with the natural world – but nothing that really fits how I would interpret reablement if I had the chance to live those 19 years of my dad’s dementia with him again.

 

My top tips for reablement success for a person with dementia would be:

1.      Offer reablement in the person’s own home - the type of residential centre my half-brother went to isn't going to be the right model for the majority of people with dementia given the confusion and anxiety a new environment could cause. Equally hospitals, however dementia-friendly they are (and the one my dad was in really wasn’t), don’t offer the familiarity, calmness, opportunities for exploration and expression or the personal touch of home.

2.      Involve a multidisciplinary team of professionals, most notably people who are from the allied health professions, all of whom should be specifically trained in dementia and all of whom should take their lead from the person with dementia. Remember, professionals can learn from the person as well as imparting their own knowledge.

3.      Think out of the box. Is there technology that can help? What about the latest guidance on dementia friendly environments, has this been translated to the person’s home? Away from health/social care, are there individuals within the local community who can provide pastoral or occupational support, visiting or enabling the person to get out and about to enjoy hobbies/activities? Going further, can the person be enabled to get involved in community work/volunteering/awareness raising/public speaking etc – there are some fantastic peer support and mentoring services than can encourage such activity for people who feel it is right for them.

4.      Belief in the possibilities of reablement both for the person with dementia and those who are supporting them – be they family members, friends, neighbours or health and social care professionals – is vital. This means moving away from the historical or traditional views of dementia and seeing the exciting possibilities of reablement and how it feeds into living well.

Alongside these tips, do take a look at this page on the SCIE website: http://www.scie.org.uk/publications/guides/guide49/dementia.asp

 

Interestingly from the perspective of the timely diagnosis agenda, reablement fits perfectly with the idea of catching symptoms early and maximising the person’s potential. Currently diagnosis is often just a label and a prescription – reablement offers something more tangible, providing strategies and opportunities to grow into that diagnosis and live well with it. It should be at the heart of good post-diagnostic support, and if it were, those of us who are doubtful of the merits of diagnosing earlier and earlier might see more justification for it if an accurate diagnosis can be made.

 

Reablement isn’t about giving people with dementia or their families false hope or denying the reality that dementia is still a terminal disease. What reablement offers is the chance to make the best of what we have and do something practical to underpin the message of living well with dementia. Without reablement, I think that there is a very real risk that we give up on people with dementia far too easily.

 

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook 

 

A helping hand

When a loved one is living with dementia, it is inevitable that a time will come when they will need additional help and support. A person with dementia may be very resistant to any intervention from any individual, and who could blame them - 'help', however well-meaning, often results in taking over from the person with dementia and can be very disempowering, especially for a previously very independent person. Alternatively your loved one may be willing to accept help, but only want it from a particular person, which can put a huge strain on one individual.

Overcoming problems around how to provide help and support, and especially difficulties completing essential tasks like washing, dressing, eating etc, is something that huge numbers of family carers struggle with, and can even baffle professional care workers. If time is short, and the individual living with dementia is determined that what the person who is supporting them feels needs to happen isn't going to happen, it can become a very frustrating battleground for everyone.

Alleviating those tensions can be difficult. As one family carer said to me after reading my 'Troubleshooting Checklist' blog post: "How do you cope when someone is unwilling or unable to cooperate with these tasks? Our routine gets harder every day." The advice I gave that person is the inspiration behind this blog post, largely because I know from the correspondence and conversations I have had that that person is far from alone in experiencing these problems.

There are lots of things you can do to try and improve the communication and mutual understanding needed to avoid battleground situations over every day necessities. Lots of carers – be they family carers or professional care workers - often get locked into a very task-based day, and naturally take over doing tasks even when the person with dementia may be able to do some or all of these things themselves. I was guilty of this with my dad in the early years of his dementia - it is an incredibly easy pattern to fall into.

Often it's just quicker and easier to do things for a person than support them to be independent. However, for anyone, and particularly a very independent person, this could be like red-rag to a bull. Put yourself in the shoes of the person with dementia - looking at it from their perspective it seems very controlling and disempowering for you to just take over. 

Maintaining skills is a difficult balancing act. If a person is going to put themselves in danger or do something wholly inappropriate then some measure of intervention will be needed. Judging that measure, however, can only come from understanding the individual - through communication, body language, previous history, observation etc - anything that tells you what their capabilities are and where the points are that you may need to intervene. 

Of course dementia is a constantly changing landscape, and abilities and the motivation to do things will fluctuate and most likely decline over months and years. The frustration the person with dementia is likely to be feeling during this decline cannot be overestimated, and any intervention you make needs to be very sensitively handled. There may be specific trigger points when you and the person you are supporting upset each other. It might be helpful for you to note these and see if a pattern emerges.

Once you've worked out what is triggering times of discord, you may be able to identify factors that you can change. For example, the environment you are in may be contributing to difficulties. A particular room, object, or sensory experience could be a problem. The routine you are using may also be problematic, even if it's a routine that has been in place for a long time. Or the problems may be down to a breakdown in communication.

An example to illustrate this:

You are helping a loved one to dress. Your loved one has always got dressed in the bathroom after their morning wash. Your loved one is now resistant to dressing but is struggling to communicate why in a way that you can understand. Examples of possible problems include:

1)    Looking at the bath/shower, your loved one is associating the bathroom with getting undressed for washing – they simply cannot understand why you would want them to put clothes on, rather than take them off.

2)    Your loved one doesn't recall having a wash so cannot understand why clothes should be going back on.

3)    Your loved one opened their bowels prior to having their wash, there is a lingering smell and they don't want to dress because the smell is suggesting to them that they need to wash.

4)    They haven’t completed their pre-dressing regime in the way that they would want to – IE: don’t feel dry enough, want to apply a body lotion, or would like to do their hair or make up before getting dressed.

5)    In your small bathroom there isn't enough room for you and your loved one to manoeuvre to help them get dressed, this is making the space claustrophobic, possibly too hot, and you are getting in each other's way, causing mutual frustration.

All of the problems described above are centred around association and memory. The environment you are in is causing a negative association. Try changing the established routine and moving to another room to dress – ensuring that room is warm enough. The bedroom, with an open wardrobe and different outfits to choose may help to demonstrate that it's time to get dressed.

 

Of course the above is just one example – I could write up many, many more – every individual situation is going to be slightly different and require a different approach. However, a general checklist for multiple situations would include (in no particular order):

1)    Think about the room(s) where you are trying to help the person (do they feel safe/comfortable?).

2)    Don't ignore sensory barriers - noise can cause confusion, smells and the visual landscape can give mixed messages.

3)    Experiment with routine if the current one is not working.

4)    Be mindful of timing - the time you chose to do something may not be the time that the person you are supporting wants to do it. If schedule is vitally important, try to agree the schedule together and have a dementia friendly clock to help orientate the person and avoid conflict over what time it is.

5)    How much are you involving the person in tasks - would they like to/could they do more? Or would they like something done differently?

6)    Think about how you are communicating - is it appropriate, can it be understood, do you need to change how you are communicating?

7)    Use clear clues to indicate what the person needs to be concentrating on - IE: open the wardrobe to choose clothes to wear, set the table before a meal, take towels and washing products to the bathroom in readiness for a bath/shower, collect up coats, hats and shoes ready to go out.

8)    Think about how you are helping the person, are there any particular trigger points for upset (observe/document and you may see a pattern emerge that you can change).

9)    If someone else is available to help (another family member, friend, care worker etc), find out from the person with dementia what their preferences are. Also consider if you need extra help in certain situations (help with moving and handing etc), and if certain tasks should be completed by someone else while you take a back seat. Be particularly mindful of cross-gender issues, dignity and privacy.

10) Remember that what needs to be done (like getting dressed) doesn't exist in isolation from other things. For example, feeling unwell, being in pain etc are going to have a huge bearing on how someone concentrates on what needs to be done, their willingness to help, and the movement and mobility they have. A person with dementia may not be able to articulate how other illnesses or pain are affecting them, so as a carer you need to be a bit of a detective.

Taking the person-centred, holistic approach described above should help to alleviate most issues around offering help and support to a person with dementia, but like everything in dementia care there are no guarantees and the role of a carer is likely to be constant trial and error. As ever, patience and empathy are vital. I'm not sure it ever gets easier, but what I can say is that with time you become more perceptive and an infinitely more effective detective.

 

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook 

 

Does the world really stop?

There is a prevailing view that when someone is told that they have dementia, everything in their life must stop. If they were working or studying that must stop. They must stop driving. They stop being spoken to and start being spoken about. They stop being given tasks to do, or even being allowed to complete simple tasks that they feel comfortable tackling.

Any deviation from this is considered to be a lack of compliance, but since when did people with dementia have to become compliant? Being told you have a terminal illness is likely to make most people want to become as incompliant as possible. A diagnosis of many other terminal illnesses is often associated with the formation of a bucket list, a compendium of all the things someone wants to achieve, all the places they want to visit and all the people they want to meet. Not with dementia though.

We expect people with dementia to just crawl home and stay there until potentially a medical emergency brings them into contact with their local hospital. Then they will encounter the giant beast that is healthcare, followed by social care, followed by huge confusion and frustration for a person who is likely to already be hugely confused and frustrated due to their dementia.

So is this mismanagement on a grand scale or just a fact of life? Personally I don’t think this reality is right for anyone. No one is likely to live well with dementia if their life is reduced to a model of isolated dependence, where joy and happiness is in short supply and irritation and depression are the daily norm.

I’ve written previously about the need for everyone with dementia to be given the opportunity to achieve, and that can be achievement at every stage of dementia. You may associate achievement with hitting huge milestones and pushing yourself to extremes – for someone with dementia it may be something as simple as making a cup of tea or buttering some bread, but it’s achievement, it is an element of self-sustainability and it’s priceless.

I lost count of the young doctors who saw my dad during his 19 years with dementia and questioned the point of treating a man who a) had a terminal disease, b) was immobile (as dad was for many years), c) doubly incontinent, d) had a swallowing problem (for the last four years of his life) and e) apparently in their narrow-minded judgement, had no quality of life whatsoever.

He did, in fact, have quality of life, just not what most people with limited understanding of dementia perceive to be quality of life. He enjoyed his food and had an amazing appetite. He loved listening to music and would sing along. He rested peacefully and relaxed with simple pleasures. He looked forward to going outside and would snooze in the sun under his panama hat. He was emotionally alert and showed that when he saw the people he cared about. He was loved and showed love to those he cared for. All of these things represent quality of life.

My dad had that, however, in spite of the systems that try to wrench this away from people with dementia. Systems that want to dehumanise and disempower people with dementia, pretty much from the earliest point in their dementia to their last breaths at the end of their life. My dad had quality of life because he had a family. How many people don’t have an actively involved family or indeed any family at all? Relatives have been known to run for the hills when they hear that a member of their family had developed dementia (some fearing that it is, in fact, contagious).

My dad’s world could easily have stopped. I’m sure on some days it did, no one in our family would claim to be a superman or woman – none of us were capable of removing every negative feeling and experience from the life of my dad, however much we tried. That is, however, the point: we did at least try.

For us the world didn’t stop, it kept on turning. Yes it was different, but life doesn’t stand still. It can happen around a person with dementia, or we can all make a conscious decision to ensure that person is part of their world. Indeed, to give someone the best chance of living well with dementia nothing needs to ever really stop. Yes they may not be able to carry on with a particular type of work or hobby, but there is no reason not to try something else that they enjoy, or indeed something new.

If paid employment is out of the question, volunteer, campaign and spread the word. Talk about your experiences; I guarantee that there will be people who want to hear about them – I definitely do. Driving a car may not be possible, but look into every other form of transport and make sure that you are getting out and about regularly. Tasks may need some supervision occasionally, but as observers we should never jump in to ‘correct’ unless it is absolutely necessary to prevent harm. It’s ok to do things ‘wrong’ – it’s better to have tried, experimented and come up with something unique, than to have sat back and decided that you can never do anything ever again and it’s time to just give up and admit dementia has won.

Throughout history the most innovative people have often been incompliant – the mainstream wasn’t for them, and they set about putting their own mark on the world. In many ways, I’m hugely incompliant and actually proud of it. Facing up to a future with dementia may be terrifying, but let it also be liberating. Make your bucket list and don’t let your world stop – it’s far harder to start again than it is to just keep going.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook