She cries. She yells. She bangs her hand on the table. He’s confused. He’s sad. He says he wants to die. We witness these emotions and behaviors as outside observers. We try to understand what a loved one, a nursing home resident, or an older adult whom we know is feeling, but ultimately, it still isn’t us living through their distress. But, what if it was?
We all experience loss and its devastating effects at one time or another, a chronic illness, a loved one passing away, a heartbreaking disappointment. We heal, re-engage and in some way, move forward. For our residents, loss is cumulative. The fact that they are living with us means that loss has overcome their ability to care for themselves, engage in daily life activities that define them or meaningfully experience the essence of who they are. What if it was us?
Mostly, we move through life meeting responsibilities, working hard, giving back, enjoying involvement with family and friends and having time for fun. Loss doesn’t generally permeate our minds, hinder our ability to meet obligations or take over our daily existence for the remainder of our days. What if it did?
Remember a time (or many of them) when you lost your wallet, your keys, your cell phone or your way while driving somewhere? What did it feel like? Imagine experiencing this confusion all of the time. Have you ever felt lonely? You want to engage, share concerns or ideas and there is no one there to listen. At the extreme perhaps you talk out loud to yourself because at least you will listen. Has this ever happened to you? At the core of our humanness is the need, the yearning, for someone to notice us. We want others to pay attention to what we are saying, show us respect and share their love with us. These needs can amplify our residents’ feelings of loss and aloneness, pervading their daily existence.
We mean well. Most of us want our residents to feel satisfied. Having choice about daily routines, good monitoring and handling of health problems and staff who are responsive is what we strive to provide. We are just so busy. The higher acuity of need, the ever challenging condition of doing more with less and completing the list of tasks in front of us can get in the way of simple interactions that can have positive impact. But stopping for three minutes, just 180 seconds, to listen to a story, share a funny happening or simply sitting to hold a hand, may mean the difference between another day of despair and a glimmer of hope that satisfies a longing.
How many people work at your facility? How many residents live with you? If each staff member becomes responsible for engaging with one or two residents every day for 180 seconds, how would the life experience of your elders change? This kind of regular interaction may alter the way in which residents engage with staff, with one another or the way in which staff interact with each other. This small but significant initiative could change the atmosphere of an entire nursing unit struggling with higher levels of resident distress.
So, the next time you walk down a corridor and see Mary sitting in her wheelchair all alone, stop and take three minutes. It may be the best 180 seconds of time that you spend in the course of your day!