Bringing the generations together

There have been few documentaries I’ve enjoyed as much as Channel 4’s ‘Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds’. For me it ticked every box - it featured some amazing older people (the oldest was 102) and pre-school children (the youngest was 3), it looked at ageing, social care, healthcare, education and child development, it demonstrated innovation combined with scientific rigour, and best of all, it featured some really positive outcomes for the older people and the children involved.

It’s no surprised I loved the programme given the 9 years my dad spent in care homes, the work I do now with older people and those who provide care and support for them, and as a mum to a preschooler, my current immersion in the world of early years education. 

The seed for my enthusiasm for intergenerational work was sown watching my dad light up whenever children visited other residents in his care home. Sadly though, the time many of these children spent in the home was brief and their visits sporadic, so my dad never really had the chance to fully benefit from their presence, unlike the 10 older people featured in Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds.

In our household, this documentary was particularly timely - in the weeks it aired we were settling our daughter into pre-school. It hasn’t been the easiest transition for her, but I am absolutely certain given her relationship with my mum (who is 79), that had she had the option to go into an early-years educational establishment that meant she shared her pre-school time with older people she would have settled a lot quicker.

The synergies for me don’t end there either. In an attempt to help our daughter settle into pre-school life I made her a memory book, which I’m gradually filling up with photos of all the adventures that we’ve had this year. A memory book for an (almost) 3-year-old - They are for older people (and people living with dementia) right? Wrong! They are amazing at every age and stage of life, and the book has been phenomenal for our daughter. It's given her pages of lovely familiar photos to comfort her and prompt her to talk about her adventures, and it's enabled her teachers to get to know her so much quicker and easier.

In essence, we are actually informally running our own mini intergenerational experiment in our house. My mum lives with us, and although I don't have scientists or experts measuring the effects of this for our daughter and my mum, I can informally categorically say that our daughter’s communication, reading, interactions and skills-set have benefitted so much from extensive time with her Granny, and for my mum, our daughter has physically and mentally challenged her, kept her going and brought so much joy, excitement and unpredictability into her life.

If my mum was living alone she would have had none of this, and would have been much more isolated and potentially lonely, as many of her peers sadly are. Meanwhile for our daughter, with the best will in the world, she would never have had as many books read to her or enjoyed so many other little learning experiences without Granny around every day. 

So, what do we learn from Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds and my own domestic life? For me it’s that keeping generations in silos is so outdated. I’m not saying that arrangements like those shown on Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds would work for every older person or indeed every preschooler. Some older people wouldn't want that level of noise, interaction and energy around them. Equally, some preschoolers may prefer to only be with their peers or adults of their parent’s age.

But there needs to be much more choice for everyone who would benefit. Older people who would like to interact with preschoolers could find a new purpose in life, teaching and supporting children to learn, and keeping themselves physically and mentally active into the bargain. Meanwhile preschoolers, who may have busy working parents and live long distances from their own grandparents, could benefit from the patience and time less hurried older people may be able to provide. And that, of course, is to say nothing of the exchange of wisdom that would be happening. 

For those with a less practical, romantic vision who are only interested in hard facts, muse on this. Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds showed significant physical and mental improvements in the older people over the 3-months of this experiment, all of which could potentially cut the costs associated with their health and care needs. Examples included:

• 102-year-old Sylvia going from being classed as frail at the beginning of the experiment to being no longer classed as frail at the end of the 3-months. Sylvia's cognitive health tests also improved by +3 points.
• 97-year-old Victor improved his depression score by +3.
• 81-year-old Lavinia went from taking 495 steps per day to 1750 later in the experiment, and this despite a fall during the 3-months.

And overall amongst the older participants:

• 5/10 improved their balance.
• 9/10 improved their grip strength (an indicator of overall health).
• Almost half of the volunteers reduced their risk of falling.

The children also showed improvements, including the youngest child, Zach, improving his personal and social interactions and use of language, and Mason improving his sense of what it means to be an older person and developing his ability to nurture and be empathetic. Indeed, such is the impact of this experiment that The ExtraCare Charitable Trust, who run Lark Hill Retirement Village where Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds was filmed, have committed to a lasting legacy for the project that will see a rolling six week intergenerational activity programme for Lark Hill residents and children from its neighbouring nurseries.

I can see so many positives in intergenerational approaches, and in the 6+ years I’ve done the work I do now I don’t think anything has excited me as much as the potential for bringing the older and younger generations together. The possibilities seem almost endless to my eager brain which is desperate to see new initiatives for the youngest and oldest in our society.

I feel we have become very stale, very staid, in our approaches to supporting people at the polar opposites of the age spectrum and it saddens me. For older people, they don’t necessarily have years to wait to get the care and support that they need, to alleviate their loneliness, to give them purpose and a reason to live the best life that they can. And for our youngest citizens, their brains are alive with possibility and opportunity, just waiting for us to ignite their imagination and feed them with the facts about anything and everything that makes up the world we live in.

For me there is no time to waste. No ifs, no buts. I’m proud that in our own little way through our domestic life that we are doing this as a family, but I would love to hear from any individuals or organisations who want to do intergenerational work like that shown on Old People’s Home for 4 Year Olds at scale. For our older and younger citizens, let’s make this happen!

Until next time...

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

Action for dementia care and support - Living with dementia

Welcome to the fourth of my five blog posts for UK Dementia Action Week 2018 (DAW2018). 

This year Dementia Awareness Week is renamed Dementia Action Week to reflect the need for action for people affected by dementia rather than only focusing on awareness.

In this spirit, I’m sharing the ‘Key Messages’ from my dementia care and support training modules. The training, devised entirely by me and heavily based on personal experiences from my dad's life with dementia and the many other people I've met who are living with dementia, is something I've delivered to numerous frontline social care staff as a standalone learning experience or to supplement the bespoke training and mentoring that I provide to individual services and organisations.

I've never shared these materials online before, and I'm hoping by doing so now I will inspire positive action amongst health and social care providers who are supporting people living with dementia and their families.

Day 4: Living with dementia

My fourth module is called ‘Living with dementia' and covers: 

• ‘Living with dementia’, ‘Living well’ and ‘Living better’
• An asset-based approach
• Working side-by-side with the person
• Independence, choice and control
• Risk and disagreement
• The empowerment movement
• Occupation, activity and lifelong learning 
• Social connectivity and community life
• Day-to-day living
• Markers of living well and advice from a person living with dementia
• Key staff skills
• Human Rights and the Mental Capacity Act 

It concludes with:

For me these key messages, whilst very basic to many of us, are something every person providing care and support for anyone affected by dementia should live and breathe by.

Of course, there is so much more to what is in a 3-hour training session than I could convey in a short blog, but to give you a flavour of what this is like in 'real life' the module is the start of opening up conversations about everything that goes into supporting a person to live as well as possible with their dementia. 

Everything I do asks learners to put themselves into the shoes of the person, so in this module learners think about how to support a person to live as well as possible in lots of everyday situations, and use 'real life' scenarios to identify, support and work with the person to maintain their skills.

**ACTION FOR HEALTH AND SOCIAL CARE PROVIDERS**

PLEASE PRINT THE KEY MESSAGES IMAGE ABOVE AND PIN IT ONTO A NOTICEBOARD THAT ALL OF YOUR STAFF CAN SEE.

For more information on my training and mentoring consultancy work, please see my website: http://www.bethbritton.com.

Tomorrow (25 May 2018) I will look at 'Changes associated with dementia'.

Until then...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

Like D4Dementia on Facebook

The rainbow of dementia

This week will mark what would have been my dad’s 91st birthday, and later on in April, the 6th anniversary of his passing. These milestones have left me reflecting on the last 19 years of dad’s life, how dementia crept into his life and year by year gradually overwhelmed him.

The picture painted of dementia in 2018 seems to have two distinct hues - the brightness of those who are living well, or as well as they can, and the darkness of those nearing the end of their lives, with the multiple physical health problems that I remember only too well. Yet as I think back over those 19 years, it was never as simple as two different hues for my dad.

If anything, it was much more like a rainbow, with the red roughly representing the beginning of my dad’s dementia (which was a gradual onset rather than a distinct change from one day to the next) and the violet representing the end of dad’s life. As the curves change colour, and reduce in size, so my dad’s dementia deteriorated, leaving him with fewer skills and more struggles.

Why a rainbow though you might wonder? It’s bright and cheerful and associated with the freshness and beauty that follows the darkness and rain. I certainly haven’t chosen it because I’m a 100 percent devotee of optimism where dementia is concerned. My positivity has always been tempered by stark memories of times that whilst difficult for me, were undoubtedly far worse for my dad.

I’ve chosen a rainbow because to me it represents balance: The brightness of the colours suggests something special and positive is possible at any point in a person’s dementia, but the reducing curves remind us that the struggles, or the paddling as my friend Kate Swaffer describes it, only becomes more pronounced.

If I think about my dad’s 19 years with dementia - certainly for the majority of the first 10 years - whilst the difficulties gradually increased, my dad had independence, looked after himself reasonably well for maybe five of those years, could read and write for the early years, follow TV programmes and sports, had a fairly good command of language, was able to participate in conversations, and certainly wasn’t slow in articulating his viewpoints. By 2018 standards, he would have made a good Dementia Diarist, a popular DEEP (Dementia Engagement and Empowerment Project) or DAI  (Dementia Alliance International) member, and an engaging public speaker (although my optimism on all of these fronts is tempered by knowing that my dad was a fairly private man by nature, so maybe wouldn’t have wanted to speak publicly).

Those are probably the red, orange and yellow years. By the time we get to the green and blue on the rainbow, dad’s in and out of hospital, and moving from a residential care home to a nursing home. For my dad, the key turning point is his larger stroke, and from that day confusion, communication difficulties, urinary incontinence, changed behaviour and a whole raft of inappropriate interventions (most notably antipsychotic medication) follow. My dad is becoming a much more stereotypical example of what society thinks about when it thinks about a person with dementia.

The indigo and violet years are characterised by further physical decline, with immobility, double incontinence and four years of dysphagia for my dad to cope with before the end of his life. This is the picture most people conjure up when they or a loved one are diagnosed. But as much as the ‘red’ years don’t go on forever, so most people with dementia don’t jump from ‘red’ to ‘violet’ either.

I am a great believer in seeing every face of dementia for what it is: The person living as well as they can in the red to green curves of the rainbow is giving hope to every single individual who has just been diagnosed or will be in the future. Without that hope, everyone just fast forwards to a picture of what 'violet' looks like, and that is only going to lead to more rapid deterioration with the added pain of potentially severe depression, hopelessness and even suicidal thoughts.

The person living in the blue to violet curves is never going to offer the same type of hope. They are coping with a greater array of physical health problems and are increasingly reliant on others for their care and support. Our perception is that brightness is fading, but what we learn from these individuals about the human spirit is perhaps even greater than their more articulate peers. Moreover, the qualities we find in ourselves from becoming caregivers represents invaluable, albeit sometimes very painful, life lessons.

Aside from my dad and the people I’ve known personally who are affected by dementia, I’ve met so many other individuals through my professional work who are living with dementia, coping (or not coping, and yes, sometimes suffering) and every single person has taught me something. As my dad took his last breaths I learnt about peaceful serenity. As I see a person living with dementia giving a conference speech, I learn about their strength to stand there and tell their story (often without notes, something I cannot do). As I see a person living with dementia in a care home trying to regain mobility after a broken hip, I learn about determination. As I read a book, a blog, or a social media post from a person with dementia who is laying bare their personal experiences, I learn more about living with dementia than I ever could from a textbook. As I see someone managing a few mouthfuls of food, and breaking out into a satisfied smile that they’ve outwitted dysphagia for one mealtime, I see a will to go on living despite the obvious struggles.

When my dad's life started to change, which in hindsight was when he began developing dementia, I had no idea we had 19 years ahead of us. As every year went by, we just tried to make the most of whatever situation we found ourselves in and give dad the best quality of life possible. I certainly don’t think we always managed that, and I dearly wish I’d known then what I know now.

Did my dad live well? Yes sometimes. Did he suffer? Yes sometimes. But when I reflect now, the fact that it’s a rainbow I gravitate towards, feeling an affinity with the brightness rather than the reducing curves, reminds me that although dad is gone we lived those 19 years together, and for all their ups and downs there was a beauty in the love that bound us together and that shines on.

Until next time...

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

Resolve to embrace human rights

(A note before I begin this blog post: You should not consider anything written in this blog as legal advice for you or anyone you care for).

During my dementia training for social care professionals, I ask participants:

“Do you think people with dementia have human rights?”

Most participants, keen to say the right thing, murmur, “Of course.”

Which naturally leads me onto the next question:

“So what are these human rights then? Name me some...”

And the silence that follows is usually defending.

When the silence is broken, it’s been broken by some really ‘interesting’ contributions. The right to "a cup of tea" and a "clean bum" are two notable examples.

I talk about human rights during my training on living well, or living better, with dementia. Although human rights fit into every aspect of living with dementia, I think presenting them in the context of 'living well' sends an important message that human rights are vital to the person’s quality of life.

Human rights and people with dementia

There has been a very powerful movement towards thinking about the support of people with dementia in a human rights context, led by many important voices including Dementia Alliance International. The disability sector really pioneered human rights work in relation to people with various disabilities, and leading advocates for people living with dementia do, quite correctly, feel that the same rights should be afforded to people with dementia. Legally that is certainly true, but in practice it happens sporadically at best.

Human Rights law encompasses many different aspects of life. To pick out some of the Rights that are particularly relevant in the context of health, social care and dementia, I often think about:

•    The Right to life

•    The Right to freedom from torture and inhuman or degrading treatment

•    The Right to liberty and security

•    The Right to respect for your private and family life, home and correspondence

•    The Right to freedom of thought, belief and religion

•    The Right to freedom of expression

•    The Right to protection from discrimination in respect of these rights and freedoms

•    The Right to peaceful enjoyment of your property

Historically, the most common barrier to the application of a person’s human rights has been the assumption that all people with dementia are incapable of self-determination (autonomy) simply because they have dementia. Of course, with the introduction in the UK of the Mental Capacity Act (My blog post on MCA is here), that assumption could no longer, legally, be made.

Yet, such is the lack of understanding about MCA, and the often poor practical application of its 5 main principles, the MCA is frequently as misunderstood as human rights legislation. Even more alarmingly, whilst most social care staff when questioned will say they’ve had some basic training in the Mental Capacity Act and Deprivation of Liberty Safeguards (DoLS), the majority of staff I see have never even been asked to consider their care and support practices in the context of the person’s human rights.

Simplifying legal complexities

Human rights is a huge topic that I do not profess to be an expert in. But even for a lay person such as myself, there are important aspects that I feel anyone can and should grasp to augment their understanding.

Firstly, the framework for making decisions is an approach based on asking yourself:

•    Is it lawful?

•    Is it a legitimate aim?

•    Is it necessary in a democratic society?

Three fairly simple questions. And of course the ‘it’ could be anything, from a daily care and support issue around personal care or medication right through to locking doors.

Secondly, the principles of a human rights based approach are:

•    Proportionality

•    Least restrictive option

•    Balancing rights and risks

•    Proactive strategies

All of those 4 principles draw me in, much like the principle in the Mental Capacity Act that allows for a person to make an ‘unwise’ decision. The concepts of balancing rights and risks, being proportional, and taking the least restrictive option always spark interesting conversations. 

Practicing a human rights based approach

In one recent example, I asked a group of care workers what they would do if the person they supported wanted to take a walk outside:

Care staff: “Our residents often go outside onto the patio in the summer.”

Me: “Ok, I was thinking a bit further than your patio area. And I’m talking about right now. Late November, 4pm.”

Care staff: “Ah well that would be dangerous so we’d keep them in.”

Me: “But what about the person’s right to liberty and security? If we say we are respecting the person’s rights, are we only doing that between May and September?”

Care staff: “But we have to keep them safe - it’s getting dark.”

Me: “It is, so if we are taking a human right’s approach, respecting the person’s right to LIBERTY and SECURITY, let’s ensure the person is wrapped up in warm clothes and non-slip shoes, dress ourselves similarly, take a torch (and we have lighting around the building) and go for a walk outside with the person. That way we are supporting the person’s right to liberty, doing our best to keep the person safe by keeping them warm and going with them, and being proportional by supporting what the person wants but keeping to areas that are well-lit and won’t involve us getting lost. We have balanced the person’s rights with the risks and found a less restrictive option (than keeping the person locked up inside). We could also add being proactive in our approach if the person wants to regularly go for a walk at this time and we anticipate and support that. And as a plus point, can anyone think of any other benefits?

(Silence)

Me: “The person will hopefully get a bit of an appetite for their supper, enjoy some exercise, and potentially stave off any sundowning symptoms by being occupied and engaged. Best of all, we will have empowered that person.”

Empowerment - the very best example of living well

That, for me, is ultimately what a human rights based approach is all about - empowerment. Losing rights and freedoms is very disempowering. Being told "no" constantly. Being locked up like a prisoner. Feeling your needs and wants don’t matter. Anyone in that position might just give up.

But when we find a way by being proactive, even if logistically we have to make some compromises, we transform the person’s experience. Being told "yes" is a positive feeling. When the doors open, the sense of freedom is exhilarating. Having our needs and wants met validates those needs and wants. You are living, not just existing, because you feel like a worthwhile and empowered human being.

My challenge to you

Many individuals and organisations would benefit from enhancing their understanding and revolutionising their approach to human rights to protect people living with dementia from, at best, misguided care and support and at worst, abuse. So, as 2017 draws to a close (this post marks my last D4Dementia blog of the year), my challenge to everyone involved in the care and support of people with dementia is to make 2018 the year you resolve to embrace a human rights based approach. And to support you, this won’t be my last blog on the topic.

Thank you for all your support in 2017. Until 2018...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

LIKE D4Dementia on Facebook