Who is really challenging?

As regular readers of D4Dementia will know, I’ve long been a supporter (including through the National Dementia Action Alliance Campaign 'Dementia Words Matter') of using respectful language - as defined by people living with dementia - when communicating about dementia. I believe that from language comes attitudes, and of course how people are treated is then heavily influenced by those attitudes. So, in short, it's about more than just words.

Sadly, since I (and many others) have been banging this drum nowhere near enough has changed. I’ve mostly given up with the sensationalised headlines that newspapers favour. Journalists are often expected to write a certain type of copy, and as a writer myself I have sometimes had to refuse assignments when what is asked for isn’t something I’m prepared to deliver, but I have also found chances to educate with other publications.

Trouble with the language

Late last year I had a request to endorse a new book on dementia, written by a doctor, that seemed on the face of it to be an interesting opportunity to read a new publication prior to its release. Sadly, however, I had to withdraw from potentially making an endorsement when I saw references to ‘BPSD’ (Behavioural and Psychological Symptoms of Dementia) and ‘wandering' on an initial quick scan through (I would recommend reading about the #BanBPSD campaign as detailed on Kate Swaffer's blog for more information on this terminology).

The only good thing to come from this book-reviewing experience was the opportunity to signpost the publishers to the gold-standard in dementia language guidelines, a recommendation that was well-received although I suspect it was too late to change the copy in the book. I was perhaps naive - I know the medical profession are trained using language that, more often than not, isn’t reflective of the ways in which people living with dementia would like to be described, but I had expected attitudes might have modernised somewhat by now.

My language benchmark

In my training and mentoring work I have a clear language benchmark for health and social care staff. I ask them to go through a checklist whenever they are going to write or speak about someone with dementia that includes:

• Would I be happy to say what I’m going to say to the person directly?
• Would I be happy for the person to read what I’m going to write about them?
• What do I think the person would say? (Thinking not just about the person’s current health but how they might have felt before they had dementia)

And perhaps most crucially of all:

• If I was this person, would I be happy to be spoken or written about using the words I’m thinking of using?

If you answer negatively to any of these questions, change your words, it’s as simple as that. And interestingly, by changing language it really does start to change attitudes, as I’ve witnessed when care plans have been radically altered, staff practice has become more open-minded and responsive, and the experiences of individuals living with dementia have improved as a result.

Do you still use the term 'challenging behaviour'?

Perhaps the most divisive terminology that I still see is ‘challenging behaviour’, which was brilliantly addressed in a blog Wendy Mitchell wrote at the end of last month. Wendy had been for a visit to Portsmouth Hospital, talking to staff about her experiences of dementia. In her blog, Wendy said:

“We’re often referred to as ‘Challenging patients’ but I refer to challenging staff. There’s a reason why we’re distressed and it’s up to you to find that reason. You need to enter our world as we simply can’t enter yours….”

There is no more I can add to that, except to say that I 100 percent agree with Wendy. It’s an uncomfortable truth to confront staff with, as I have done on many occasions, but an absolutely vital issue to deal with. Writing off someone with dementia by saying they have 'challenging behaviour' gives many staff the impression that they’ve ticked the ‘too difficult to deal with’ box and don’t need to do any more.

Reframing words, thoughts and actions

Reframing thinking by saying it’s 'changed behaviour' (or 'Changes associated with dementia' as I call one of my training modules) and challenging staff to find out what's changed is a crucial first step. And incidentally the answer is never, “Well the person’s dementia has got worse.” Reasons are as numerous as people are different, so there is never a one-size-fits-all answer. However, there are some universal themes which often reoccur, including a person with dementia feeling worthless, confused, frustrated and/or bored leading to what might be interpreted as being distressed, disruptive or destructive.

I know I’d go crazy without occupations to keep my mind and body engaged and, ultimately, to feel that I’m living. Simply expecting people with dementia to sit quietly and slowly die is perverse. Engaging people in familiar occupations - or indeed new ones – that give them purpose, passion and excitement again is often a key first step. Believing in what people with dementia can do, and finding ways to work side-by-side with them to achieve everything from the mundane to the amazing is what living with dementia, rather than simply dying of dementia, is all about. 

Rise to the challenge to change practice

So, bravo to Wendy Mitchell and everyone else who’s pointed out that the challenge is for every one of us who isn't living with dementia, not for people with dementia. I for one love to rise to that challenge, find new ways to support a person that does away with the old model of dependence, disablement and drugging people to make them ‘compliant’, and that says: 

I will work with you to make the experience of living with dementia the best it can be for you, seeing you as a person and recognising what you can do rather than focusing on what you can’t.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
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Myths and lessons

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. This month, I want to look at awareness.

My first D4Dementia World Alzheimer’s Month blog in September 2012 was entitled, ‘So how much do you know about dementia?’ In the blog, which remains one of my most popular to date, I sought to bust myths about dementia and talk about what dementia had taught me. The myth-busting is particularly interesting to look back on as the blog was written before Dementia Friends - one of the key initiatives to raise awareness of dementia - was launched. Some of the messages from that blog went on to be incorporated into Dementia Friends and have become mainstream knowledge, but they are still worth repeating:

• Dementia is not a normal part of ageing (types of dementia are caused by diseases of the brain). 
• There is so much more to dementia than just forgetting things (dementia symptoms are multi-faceted, vary hugely and are individual to each person).
• Dementia doesn't just happen when people get older (young onset dementia, defined as dementia in someone under 65, is increasing and dementia can even occur in children, although this is rare).
• People with dementia are still people, not a disease. 
• Dementia is not contagious. 
• Those living with dementia still want to lead active and full lives and not be locked away and forgotten about (most people want to be cared for at home, not in communal establishments).
• People with dementia can make a positive contribution to society if supported to do so.
• You can live well, or live as well as possible, with dementia.

I followed the myth-busting with some personal reflections about what my dad’s dementia had taught me:

• To appreciate the smallest things in life, since they become extremely precious (a simple “Hello” from my dad in his final few months brought a massive smile to my face). 
• To make the most of every day (good days and bad days become an ever-present feature with dementia, and when the good ones come along you want to make the most of them). 
• To never give up (yes there isn’t a cure yet, but there is a lot you can do to make someone’s life with dementia a more positive experience than it would have been ten, twenty or thirty years ago). 
• Finally, in my case, to share our experiences with the world (everything my dad went through is there to inform, educate and influence others. He would have wanted to make a real and lasting difference, and hopefully through me that will be his legacy).

Despite there being seven years between writing that 2012 blog and today, and a multitude of other experiences gained primarily through my work but also from people I’ve known personally, I cannot better those last four points - they sum up so much of what I talk about regularly. 

Appreciating the smallest things in life feeds into the principle of taking notice, one of the Five Ways to Wellbeing that have been pioneered by the New Economics Foundation and are widely recognised as key aspects of supporting good mental health. In 2012 I gave the example of my dad saying a simple “Hello” to me in the last months of his life, but I’ve since heard about even more precious, seemingly ‘small’ moments, not least a lady whose husband (who was living with dementia) told her he loved her - quite unexpectedly as he wasn’t given for such proclamations she said - just hours before a major stroke left him unable to speak another word for the rest of his life.

Making the most of every day was, in my dad’s case, particularly notable when we were supporting him in things that reflected the happiest memories from his life. Examples of that included listening (and singing) to music he loved, looking at books he’d enjoyed in his life (including reading a poetry book about love in the last days of his life), enjoying favourite foods (roast beef), or talking about some of his favourite memories of his life and looking at items that reflected those, which in my dad’s case were his notable achievements as a farmer. We, of course, knew my dad’s life story and so were able to facilitate all of this interaction, but for professionals currently supporting a person that they don’t know as well I would wholeheartedly recommend life story work – it really is the gift that keeps on giving.

Never giving up for me means being really person and relationship centred in your approach to supporting the person. If you spend a lot of time focusing on the big picture of dementia (the minimal treatments and lack of a cure) and the stark reality of dementia as a progressive and terminal disease, you can very quickly feel like giving up. Whereas if you get back to thinking about the person, what might make their life happier or more comfortable right now, you can find a sense of positivity and achievement. A classic example of this comes from a gentleman I met who every Friday would bring 3 roses to his wife in her care home. I was curious as to the significance of the day and the number of roses so I asked him. He said the roses (which always had to be different colours) represented their 3 children, all of whom had been born on a Friday. He said his wife couldn’t remember their names now, so the roses (roses were his wife’s favourite flower) had become her way of feeling close to her children (two of whom now lived abroad). She would hold, caress and study each of the roses and they’d have conversations about ‘red’ rose, ‘pink’ rose and ‘yellow’ rose, with him weaving in details about their children’s lives to make the conversation more meaningful.

Sharing experiences remains one of my greatest passions. Telling my dad’s story and the stories of the many other people I’ve met who are ageing and/or living with dementia is the most powerful way I’ve found in 7+ years to illustrate the health and care experiences individuals and families are having. I’ve seen first-hand how illuminating and inspiring personal experiences are for professionals involved in care and support, and I personally believe it should be mandatory for all dementia training to include these experiences. For this World Alzheimer’s Month, if you’re looking for some inspiration beyond this blog hunt down one of the many blogs, books, films or recordings that people with dementia have made or contributed to and you’ll see why nothing beats hearing from those actually LIVING with dementia.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
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What right do you have?

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. This month, I want to look at human rights and sectioning.

Back in December 2017 I wrote ‘Resolve to embrace human rights’, which outlined basic human rights, the framework for making decisions and the principles that govern a human rights based approach. In that blog, I said:

“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.”

That statement remains as true now as it did when I wrote it. What I suspect has changed for many people with dementia is that the hope of living well, or living better, has been severely eroded with the UK’s continual cuts to services. Any notion that the human rights of a person with dementia are likely to be severely affected as a result of these cuts doesn't seem to register with those who make these decisions.

This is perhaps most starkly illustrated when a person with dementia is sectioned, depriving them of many rights, most notably their liberty. I'm on the record as being against sectioning for people with dementia in all but the most extreme (and I mean extreme) circumstances, as I wrote in my 2016 blog, ‘Sectioning people with dementia’:

“Fortunately my father was never sectioned, which is just as well since I am opposed to it in relation to people with dementia in all but the most extreme circumstances. When I say extreme circumstances I'm talking about where a person with dementia is violently unwell and every effort has been made, prior to sectioning, to utilise every other avenue of care and support available.”

Interestingly, my post on sectioning has become one of the most popular I’ve ever written on D4Dementia, something I would never have expected as I felt it was a bit of a niche topic when I wrote it and something that I hoped was only affecting a tiny minority of people.

Moreover, this popularity suggests to me (purely anecdotally and not scientifically) that this is a topic many people are concerned about or have experienced, and my email inbox backs that up. Since the post was published I’ve had numerous emails from adult children whose parents have been sectioned due to their dementia. They are bewildered, frightened and wondering what will happen next - and I’m talking about the sons and daughter’s emotions, so imagine how the mothers and fathers with dementia are feeling.

In addition, through my consultancy work I know of at least two people in different areas of England who have been sectioned - having been moved from care homes I’ve provided training for to other care homes (for reasons of geographical location) - as staff unfamiliar with these people and without the additional input I’d been providing felt that they couldn’t support these individuals.

Further evidence of instances of sectioning aren't hard to find - examples from a quick search include The Times in December 2018, ‘Dementia patients needlessly sectioned’ (subscription content), and the Daily Mail in May 2018, ‘Father, 71, with Alzheimer's is SECTIONED after a string of ten care homes refuse to take him in’.

For me, this amounts to showing that the cracks in the health and care system are all too obvious, either because families are struggling alone and unsupported or because some professionals haven’t been trained in non-drug therapy care and support techniques that can help a person who is experiencing more severe dementia symptoms, leaving sectioning as the ‘way out’.

I wrote an eBook for a client of mine, MacIntyre, all about Changed Behaviour, with lots of practical tips and advice that could help anyone, be they a family member or a professional. To expand on that further, I went on to write a series of 11 Changed Behaviour booklets that look at different ‘behaviours’ as they may be described (words like ‘aggression’ aren’t my preferred terminology but needed in this instance for staff to have a logical reference point), and again are packed full of practical, non-drug, non-restraint approaches that were approved by MacIntyre’s Positive Behaviour Support (PBS) team. Four of them have been published (I hope more will be in the future) and can be found under the following links:

https://www.macintyrecharity.org/our-expertise/resources/verbal-aggression-changed-behaviour/

https://www.macintyrecharity.org/our-expertise/resources/changed-behaviour-physical-aggression/

https://www.macintyrecharity.org/our-expertise/resources/paranoia-and-accusations-changed-behaviour/

https://www.macintyrecharity.org/our-expertise/resources/changed-behaviour-repetition/

These ideas and approaches aren’t revolutionary, but they do require the person practicing them to first and foremost believe in taking a compassionate, human approach that is based around supporting the person in their rights and pursuing the least restrictive option to support their symptoms. 

In my view, a basic education in dementia-related human rights isn’t hard to obtain - there are numerous resources that make a great starting point, including the Dementia Engagement and Empowerment Project (DEEP) booklet, ‘Our Dementia, Our Rights’ which states:

“The more we talk about and use the rights of people with dementia, the more our services, culture and attitudes will change for the better.”

Oh how that statement needs to come true, as Dementia Alliance International will attest to in all of the work they have done to raise the issue of human rights in dementia care. Sadly, the urgency of this work was further brought home to me back in May when I was invited to quote to provide ‘challenging behaviour’ dementia training including a learning objective ‘using restraint’. I cannot imagine any mention of human rights within such a training framework, and it seems in a social care context to be just a stone’s throw away from sectioning someone. 

Which leaves me to pose one simple question: If some care providers can offer first class, compassionate support that respects the person and their rights and would never require restraint, why can’t everyone? Or perhaps the more pertinent question to substandard care providers who aren't respecting human rights should be: What right do you have to take this approach?

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
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The private world of incontinence

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. This month, I want to look at continence.

In June 2013 I wrote a blog entitled ‘An urgent need to understand’, which talked about some of the experiences we’d had with my dad’s incontinence and ways in which a person can be supported to maintain their continence. In that blog I said:

“The devastation that incontinence can cause both the person with it, and potentially a spouse or family member who is caring for them, is immense. The more private a person is the harder it will be felt, which was certainly true for my father, who was incontinent for nine years.” 

Continence, perhaps more than any other issue, is strongly linked to privacy. In my experiences as a mum I know that not long after a child is potty trained they begin to want privacy when going to the toilet. Such privacy soon becomes the norm for the rest of their life, unless incontinence accompanies a progressive health condition like dementia, in which case needing the support of another person, whether they are your own family or a health or care professional, becomes the new norm. Just because it’s the norm, however, doesn’t mean it feels normal or will ever feel normal.

Continence problems are strongly associated with ageing, but certainly don’t exclusively affect older people. Last month marked World Continence Week, with a statistic that bladder weakness alone affects 1 in 3 people and is more common than hayfever.

Continence has come onto my radar many times since I wrote ‘An urgent need to understand’. Professionally this has predominately come through my training and mentoring consultancy work, with one particularly striking example being when homecare staff from one of my consultancy clients came to me to discuss a lady living with dementia who was repeatedly developing bladder infections and soiling herself. 

The infections increased the lady’s confusion, and despite trying to provide optimal support staff said that they felt they were failing this lady every time she got another infection. I encouraged staff to really think about how the support being provided was responding to this lady over the course of each 24-hour period. Care staff often only analyse the time they spend with the people they support, rather than what is happening when they aren’t there.

It transpired that this lady was only using the toilet when staff weren’t present, and would often put off going to the toilet for many hours purely because she was confused about the time care workers would visit and concerned about her privacy (staff learnt that this lady had had a bad experience with a previous care worker during a trip to the toilet).

Many different approaches were taken to resolve this issue, including ensuring the lady had a dementia clock so that she knew what the time was, a personalised schedule that was clear to her for when her care visits were, and a lock on her toilet door (that could be opened from the outside in an emergency).

Simple measures, but alongside staff really understanding this lady’s need for privacy for the first time they proved to be the difference in supporting this lady to use the toilet more regularly, thus reducing the recurrent bladder infections she had and improving her quality of life as she soiled herself less. 

I would always encourage anyone supporting a person who is struggling with continence to think about the bigger picture, considering how the environment and the person’s routines and plans for the day are affecting their continence. If the person’s day-to-day life isn’t supporting them to use the toilet as often as they need to, problems are inevitable.

Continence hasn’t just come onto my radar through my experiences with my dad and my work, however. On a personal level, continence is something that my midwife was really open with me about during my pre and post-natal care when I had our daughter. 

Any lady who’s has a baby will have heard the iconic words, “Do your pelvic floor exercises!” Pelvic floor exercises aren’t just for women who’ve recently had a baby though. I’d argue that they are important throughout all of life, as the stat from World Continence Week ‘Prolapse can affect half of all women over 50’ shows. Although pelvic floor exercises alone won’t cure prolapse, they are often recommended alongside other treatments.

I’ve always felt that preventing incontinence is a great deal easier than treating the physical, mental and emotional effects of incontinence purely because incontinence is about so much more than just wearing a pad. As I said in my ‘An urgent need to understand’ blog:

“Changing our attitudes towards continence, and breaking down the taboo’s associated with going to the toilet, must be a key priority if we are to improve the care provided to everyone who is living with dementia.”

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
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Still hard to swallow

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

With over 200 blogs on D4Dementia now, some of them approaching 7 years old in May this year, 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. This month, I want to look at dysphagia (swallowing problems).

By a huge margin my most popular D4Dementia blog post is ‘Hard to swallow’, which charts the four years that my dad lived with dysphagia alongside his vascular dementia. In that blog I explained dysphagia as follows:

"Something that is sadly very common in advanced dementia is the decline of the swallowing reflex. The condition, known as dysphagia, is extremely distressing for both the person affected and those caring for them, and can be fatal, either directly through choking or indirectly by setting up aspiration pneumonia. 

"The uncontrollable coughing that often accompanies a swallowing problem, indicating that something taken orally has gone into the trachea (windpipe) instead of the oesophagus, can leave the person affected gasping for breath, red-faced and sweating. For anyone who has witnessed someone choking, it is a terrifying moment."

I wrote Hard to swallow in September 2012, less than 5 months after my dad had died from an aspiration pneumonia, so to say this is a topic close to my heart is an understatement. But it must also be remembered that with previous good support my dad lived reasonably well with dysphagia (and no teeth!), still enjoyed food and drinks and maintained mostly adequate levels of nutrition and hydration, so there is hope and positivity too. See my interview with Nourish by Jane Clarke for more insights into my dad's dysphagia.

In the years since dad died I have met numerous people who are living with dementia and dysphagia, and yet despite this swallowing problems are frequently the elephant in the room when thinking about the progression of dementia. Families often write to me, having read my Hard to swallow blog, saying that they simply had no idea that as their loved one’s dementia progressed they would develop swallowing problems.

As a result they feel unprepared, unsure of how to care for their loved one and, frankly, so frightened they worry about supporting their loved one to take anything orally, be that food, drinks or medication. Why we don’t talk about dysphagia more is a mystery to me - understanding how to support a person helps hugely in dispelling myths and calming fears. Dysphagia doesn’t have to be a watchword for unpalatable meals that look like vomit mush, or an undignified experience at every mealtime. As I said in my Hard to swallow blog: 

"Despite my father’s advanced dementia, the Speech and Language therapist was successful in assessing him when his swallowing problems were first identified… and gave us excellent advice that helped to give dad quality of life and give us confidence in caring for him."

That professional support is key, but as is so often the way as services are cut and becoming overstretched it can be support that is very hard to come by. Indeed, in some countries (I’ve had emails from around the world from families whose loved ones are living with dementia and dysphagia) such support doesn’t exist at all as someone who wrote to me from South America in 2016 explained:

"Unfortunately we don't have speech therapists who can guide me on how to handle my dad’s dysphagia. I import liquid thickeners to adjust the consistency of his drinks."

As if supporting a person with dysphagia isn’t daunting enough, to be in this position is intolerable. With such a lack of face-to-face professional support for many families, I hope that the tips and advice online - including those in my Hard to swallow blog - are helpful.

In the years since my dad died, my training and mentoring with care providers has enabled me to understand additional methods for supporting a person with dementia and dysphagia that go beyond those documented in my 2012 blog, and I wanted to share some of those here:

•   Straws can cause problems - Liquid drawn through a straw can often hit a person’s mouth faster than that taken without a straw, making straws potentially dangerous for some people with dysphagia. 

•   Be especially patient in helping the person to drink - Thickened drinks take many people with dysphagia longer than you might imagine to consume, and most thickeners also make drinks more filling. Therefore little and often is a really important motto for helping to keep a person with dysphagia hydrated.

•   Equally, for many people with dysphagia meals are often best provided little and often - The effort required to process food in the mouth and swallow it for a person with dysphagia is immense, far greater than for a person without dysphagia. So the idea of three set meals a day and those meals filling the person up isn’t a sensible approach. Try smaller portions, that the person can eat at their own pace in shorter periods of time, and follow up with further small portions throughout the day at times when the person is alert and correctly positioned upright to eat and drink.

•   Try using teaspoons to support a person to eat - This will naturally make each mouthful a smaller amount than larger cutlery will provide.

•   If the person you are supporting doesn’t like the taste of thickeners (and despite what the manufacturers say, thickeners do change the taste of foods and drinks), natural alternatives I’ve seen that are popular (though never tried with my dad) include smooth-mashed avocado, smooth peanut butter (providing the person isn’t allergic to nuts), thick Greek yogurt or kefir (if the person can tolerate dairy products), smooth-mashed banana and smooth-mashed or pulverised cannellini beans. Obviously the choice you make depends on whether you are trying to thicken a savoury or sweet food or beverage, and if that food or drink is being served hot or cold.

•   Some people have said to me that making foods or drinks sour, for example by adding lemon juice, helps to trigger the swallowing reflex.

•   Don’t eat too close to bedtime - Ideally allow 2+ hours after eating before going to bed.

For more information on nutrition and hydration, see my blogs ‘Hydrated and Happy’, ‘Food for thought’ and ‘The digestive balance’.

Until next time...

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