Care Is A Four Letter Word

“The young man pities his elders, fearing the day he, too, will join their ranks. The elderly man pities the younger generation, well-knowing the trials and tribulations that lie ahead of them.” Lynda I Fisher

Lately I’ve been recalling a conversation I had with my grandmother a number of years ago. I’d gone to Africa for my uncle’s funeral and as is customary all over the continent, the occasion was marked by an incredible celebration of life. The life of my uncle, gratitude for the lives we had and for the lives we were yet to live. Because African societies are built on a foundation of respecting the elders it’s a lot easier to give thanks for a life yet to be lived; because in venerating our elders and celebrating life, we realise death is nothing to be feared. And in taking care of them as they took care of us, we square the circle and have the opportunity not only to express our gratitude but also realise that growing old is a privilege, one in which we’ll be taken care of by our loved ones.

Anyway, I digress. I was speaking with my grandmother and enduring my cheeks being pinched by her friends along with comments about how much I’d grown, which felt strange as I had a beard. At that point I realised that I was surrounded by octogenarians and mentioned how unusual it was to be amongst so many elders. My grandma couldn’t understand my point and asked me why it felt so strange. I hadn’t realised why it was so weird until she asked me and I realised that I basically wasn’t used to seeing old people. And I certainly wasn’t used to seeing a multitude of them in one place, mingling with everyone, an integral part of the gathering, having fun. I explained this to her and told her that in Britain we had a care system which took care of our elderly. She looked puzzled and I proceeded to explain residential care homes, the concept of assisted living and the social welfare structure that supported it. At this point I became aware that 8 or 9 elderly ladies surrounded me, all of who were crying. Feeling incredibly guilty, I stopped talking and asked my grandmother why she was crying. ‘Papa’, she said (she called me papa because I reminded her of her grandfather apparently), her voice faltering, ‘these homes you speak of, they’re rubbish dumps. Rubbish dumps for old people. You use them up and discard them because you don’t think they have anything left for you to take.’ I didn’t respond, partly because deference dictated that I didn’t argue but mainly because her words had caused a shift in my perspective.

Her words have taken on a particular significance for me recently. The care system in Britain is at crisis point, with our government’s failure to omit healthcare from the recent autumn statement seen as a catastrophic oversight. Stephen Dorrell and Andrew Lansley, two former Tory health ministers joined a chorus of concerned voices that include the Labour Party’s frontbench, senior doctors and council leaders from all parties who warn that hospitals are unable to discharge elderly patients because there is nowhere to discharge them to. The legacy of George Osborne’s austerity calculations certainly seems to be haunting this Theresa May post-Brexit government.

Practically, it's perfectly feasible to construct a plan which guarantees that there is sufficient care home provision and hospital beds. The crisis – which originally seems to have been denied hence the myopic autumn statement - is entirely and deliberately contrived by May's government; although of course, following on from Cameron's government they are not solely to blame. However, it is hard for them to argue that this is not a precursor to more outsourcing and private health insurance.

Harking back to that conversation with my grandmother, I recall that part of my discomfort stemmed from the fact that I was actually very proud of the fact that Britain had a system of social café to protect the less fortunate, and the response of my grandmother and her friends made me acutely aware of something. Culturally, we don’t care about the elderly. I’ve mentioned this in a previous blog but it bears repeating. Old age is usually viewed with antipathy as Western society tends to associate it with infirmity, reduced independence and the inability to work. But when we view other societies, especially those outside of northern Europe and North America, we realise age is as much a biological matter as it is a social and cultural construct. In Africa, East Asia, Japan, China, Singapore and multitudinous countries, children are brought up knowing that they will eventually exchange roles with their parents and care for them. And you certainly don’t have the elderly seen as a vulnerable target for exploitation by yobbish youths.

I know that modern living imposes great demands on us. But the reality is that in countries that have a fraction of our resources, they recognise and appreciate that caring for the elderly is in essence caring for each of us. Instead of making the issue of caring for our elders solely about money, perhaps it’s time to reconsider how and why as a society, we don’t seem to value them at all. Then again perhaps I’m too idealistic or maybe, a little too ‘African’ in my perspective.