Doctor, care manager, gerontologist?

Aging is an interesting field in which to work. But messages about training for professions in the field can be confusing.

An aging population assures a growing “market” for the services of knowledgeable providers of just about anything aging people need. In April the Institute of Medicine predicted an impending crisis and verified what many have already observed: a shortage of geriatricians (medical doctors specializing in aging patients), nurses, and frontline aides skilled in the concerns of aging patients. Meanwhile, the New York Times is touting geriatric care management as “one of the most important professional roles in the whole health services delivery system” over the next 10 years.

At the same time, the March-April 2008 issue of Aging Today raises thoughtful questions in two articles about whether gerontology can continue as an academic discipline. The problem, according to authors Anabel Pelham and Robert Binstock, has to do with lack of formal accreditation programs.

Perhaps the problem also has to do with lack of clarity. Neither article bothers to define gerontology. Wikipedia says it has to do with everything about aging except diseases, which are claimed by the field of geriatrics.

I guess if you’re in the field, you know gerontology “belongs” to the human services side. But it would be a mistake to assume that others share that understanding. Pelham says that “gerontology can synthesize the field’s many realms of knowledge;” it would help the rest of us to know toward what end.

No fewer than four different programs certify geriatric care managers, who don’t have to be social workers, and case managers, who do. And no one has any trouble figuring out what it is that those worthy professionals do: the name is self-explanatory.

Gerontologists, help us clear up some of the mystery that surrounds you. We’d love for you to tell us what you do and what is happening in your field in Milwaukee and beyond!

A jug of red wine and 90 becomes the new 50

Eartha Kitt at 80 sets a tough standard. Image from Wikipedia

Is red wine the fountain of youth? I'm not suggesting that the divine Ms. Kitt relies on that elixer for her youthful appearance. But a handful of articles came across my desk today touting the potential of a resveratrol, a substance found in red wine, to keep people's hearts and bodies young.

All were based on two studies that found resveratrol kept aging mice healthy, middle aged, and slim in much the same way severe calorie restriction, a much less attractive way to maintain youthful vigor, does.

One of those studies came from Madison's LifeGen Technologies and the University of Wisconsin. (Barger JL, Kayo T, Vann JM, Arias EB, Wang J, et al. (2008) A Low Dose of Dietary Resveratrol Partially Mimics Caloric Restriction and Retards Aging Parameters in Mice.)

You'd have to drink a lot of wine to stay as young as the mice--the equivalent of 1,000 bottles a day. I'm thinking that after the first one, you might stop caring much.

The New York Times takes a balanced view, pointing out that the findings are interesting but there never is a panacea; that it's way too soon to understand what the research means for people; and that one reason for the interest is the enormous potential for a pharmaceutical company to clean up on this "longevity elixer."

The Reuters article focuses on potential protection to heart health.

The Atlanta Journal Constitution version homes in on the vanity angle, asking "is 90 the new 50?" and providing photos of well-aged celebrities such as Sean Connery, Kitt, and Sophia Loren. David Sinclair of Harvard Medical School, author of the second lab research report, admits to supplementing his diet with resveratrol. But he reminds readers that the most effective way to improve longevity is exercise.

I wonder what the desire for a magic fountain-of-youth pill that keeps us slim, healthy, and young without really trying does to the way we spend our healthcare dollars. And continuing to raise the bar for expectations of sustained youthfulness seems to serve product manufacturers more than it does the rest of us.

I don't know about you, but I'm having enough trouble keeping up with 50-something being the new 40-something!

Getting ready: continuing the conversation

"Butting heads" by isadoreberg, flickr

A recent blog entry introduced the topic of talking to loved ones about difficult issues in aging. But it's a conversation that needs revisiting often.

One of the most thoughtful writers about Boomer children and their aging parents is David Solie, author of How To Say It to Seniors: Closing the Communication Gap with Our Elders. His most recent blog entry, How do we get them to move? answers bluntly the question so many of us have: we don’t.

“Older adults see where they live as the Alamo and will make their last stand defending it. We advance with logic, manipulations, and threats and they use any means at their disposal to repel us.”

The problem, he says, is that the children see themselves as managers of a situation, while their parents see themselves as preservers. We (the children) want to manage to avoid the inevitable disaster. They (our parents) want to preserve what they know far better than we do will soon enough be lost. Home, health, loved ones, mobility: “Having any of these another day is invaluable victory in the final phase of life.”

So we are left in a holding pattern. What do we do during that time? Put aside persuasion in favor of listening. Celebrate each good day as a gift. And help them—and ourselves—get ready to move when the time comes.

As mentioned in the earlier blog, My way: A workbook for planning and living life your way is an outstanding resource to aid in getting ready and shifting from conflict to partnership. It’s available from the Aging Resource Center of Milwaukee County and was presented at the May member meeting of the Milwaukee Aging Consortium. Another great resource is the 40/70 Rule Guide to Conversations brochure from Home Instead Senior Care.

Tell us your experiences with talking, listening, planning, and getting through the changes that come!

Something good about aging

Blissed out in Natalie's Chicken Blog

Things change with aging, and even, sometimes, for the good.

University of Texas sociologists Catherine Ross and John Mirowsky found that around age 60, people begin to report "more feelings of ease and contentment than their younger counterparts." Their study "Age and the balance of emotions" appeared in Social Science and Medicine in May 2008. More about it here.

The researchers also found a shift from "active" emotions such as excitement to "passive ones" like serenity. Talking about that might be a little tricky, since it seems to require some adjusting of a cultural bias that active is good, passive is bad, and excitement trumps all. Adding to the complexity is the need to consider that positive and negative things can happen at the same time. Pub Med's abstract writer puts it this way: "In order to accurately portray the shifts in emotional tone, age may best be considered as simultaneously indicating maturity and decline."

It's not scientific, but I've found that getting older makes it a lot easier not to sweat the small stuff--and to know that most of it is indeed small stuff.

And serenity is definitely something to look forward to.

"We do our best and lean on each other"

The popular press coverage of aging falls mainly into two camps: 1) fight it/beat it and 2) what to do when you can't anymore.

At the May 8 Milwaukee Aging Consortium member meeting, a panel of experts entered the important middle space between resistance and resignation. Critical conversations: helping families and elders get ready for transitions went beyond advance directives for the very end of life to address planning for a longer period of change. Panelists and audience considered the questions:

• How do we think about the time of many transitions during the last developmental stages of life?

• How do we talk to our older clients and relatives about making practical decisions that honor their desire for control?

On the same day as the meeting, Kathleen Merryman told a story in the Tacoma News Tribune that illustrates the problems of unanticipated change. The account of a recent shift in her family's universe begins, "Two months ago, in a Maverick gas station in Bridger, Montana, my dad backed into a post and shattered his sanity."

Merryman's 79-year-old father, who planned to live forever, was returning from a doctor's appointment with the news that he had not only an infection but an aortic aneurysm. The collision with a post marked what Merryman's mother described as "all the bonds of reason in his brain shred(ding) at once."

The collision was not caused by the aneurysm rupturing. The impact caused no physical damage to Merryman's father or mother who was also in the car. The cause of the sudden change was and remains a mystery.

But at least metaphorically, in losing his image of himself, he became someone else mentally and emotionally, someone living in a hell populated by delusions. His wife and children (one lawyer, two nurses, and others) were able to move swiftly through the maze of care options and changing housing and financial needs.

Even with the best of family support, the call for strength in the face of interpersonal friction and fatigue stunned the family. They now know "With aging, we do our best and lean on each other."

No matter how much planning has gone on, a sudden change for the worse is devastating. Unlike this story, the sudden changes in aging often follow a longer period of unrecognized decline. But having deep and honest conversations about what really matters and how to support basic values and desires can go a long way toward easing the pain.

It's probably a good idea to decide that "don't put me in a nursing home, ever" isn't the end of the conversation. It's just the beginning.

Some resources from the meeting to help in starting and sustaining the conversations include My Way, an in-depth planning tool from the Milwaukee County Department on Aging, and two documents developed by Home Instead Senior Care: 40-70 Rule 7 Tips (for conversations between Boomers and their parents), and the 40-70 Rule Guide booklet.

The Grandmother Hypothesis: Creating and saving civilization as we know it

What are you supposed to do you do when you’re not raising kids anymore, anyway? The easy answers to that question aren't always very satisfying, as I was reminded today listening to a Wisconsin Public Radio call in show.

The topic was having children late in life. Author Elizabeth George had only positive things to say about the experience. The women she interviewed for her book, Why Women are Embracing the New Motherhood, didn't seem to be encountering any downsides, either.

One gentleman asked about children becoming caregivers at a younger age. Not a problem, George replied. People are healthier now. And they have better financial plans.

Well. Maybe. Let's hope.

Then caller Molly from Baraboo threw both George and host Joy Cardin off balance with a question about the developmental tasks of aging. The conversation, which I’m recreating loosely from memory, went something like this:

“I had my child at age 39 and then had an early menopause. We thought about having another child but by that time, I found I wasn’t really all that interested in children. I’d heard that you change after menopause, that you are ready start to begin a new life, and I felt like that was happening to me. I was ready to do that, but I couldn’t because I had a three year old. Do other people have that experience?”

You could hear the author frowning. “What do you mean about differences after menopause and being older? Do you mean retirement?”

Host Cardin jumped in and offered some other suggestions for what women do in that “next stage” of life: traveling around the world and self-improving. Lots and lots of self-improving. (Apparently she's not old enough yet to discover that sometimes that's an exercise in futility, not to mention boredom.)

“But with only one child, you can travel around the world easily enough anyway,” said George. The awkward conversation ended with an uneasy dismissal suggesting that Molly’s case might be interesting but didn’t really apply to others: “Early menopause is an anomaly,” George concluded.

Actually, it’s not. But besides that, I was stunned by the lack of vision of what it might mean to be in the world after menopause, after children.

As an older mom, I knew exactly what Molly was talking about. My friend Kathleen, also an older mom, used to say, “I’d be standing at the refrigerator, my mind drifting off on lofty and spiritual thoughts, thinking about God and peace and ways to save the world, and when that little hand tugged my shirt and asked where the juice was, it took me a few seconds to come back to earth.”

There’s a lot more out there than recreation and holding the line against a widening waistline. Apparently George and Cardin have never heard of the Grandmother Hypothesis. This intriguing idea says that postmenopausal grandmothers (and older men, too) created culture, if not the human race, by helping younger people nurture their children. This not only meant more calories in the family pot, which meant more children surviving, but it meant that everyone had more time to do interesting things like carve spoon handles, compose songs, and create political intrigue.

Time spent lingering in the sun at a table in Turino sounds lovely. But now that my babies are heading for college, I need to add calories in the form of money to both their pot and my own retirement one.

I’m also looking forward to writing books, getting a promotion, and saving some little corner of the world

There’s so much to do, and almost all of it interesting. Even necessary. . .

What are your thoughts about life between kids and the grave? How do you see changes in reproductive norms affecting aging and aging populations?

When things work right: housing and supportive services

My mother died April 1. She was 86, in increasingly poor health, and had long been ready to go.

We encountered some troubling problems with the medical care system at the end. But I'm going to leave those behind and talk about what went right.

When Mom started having more trouble managing in the independent apartment in Oshkosh, Carmel Residence, where she'd lived since 2000, we moved her into the community's assisted living facility, Gabriel's Villa. There was an interlude of illness, skilled nursing, and rehab in between, but that's not really germane to this part of the story.

The apartment was lovely, and Mom quickly made friends with the residents and the aides. The food was superb, and she actually started eating three squares a day. She began walking around her apartment using only her cane, and generally was managing better than she'd been for the past two years.

But things got worse again. She developed pneumonia and digoxin toxicity, the congestive heart failure worsened, the implanted defibrillator started going off frequently despite an increase in potent drugs for arrhythmia. Her mental state became altered.

Gabriel's Villa operates under a residential care apartment complex (RCAC) license. As a result, the staff were able to be very flexible, providing more care as needed for an additional fee. They began administering her medications and checking her every two hours, later every hour.

After we decided to turn off Mom's defibrillator and let nature take its course, her plan all along, Gabriel's Villa agreed to let us bring home hospice into the apartment. No one wanted her to move her again.

Mom died a few hours after we'd returned there, before hospice care could begin. I stayed with her, with much loving attention and help from the aides who were with us, getting her ready for bed, when her big heart went into ventricular fibrillation. A few minutes later, she died, held by my sister and me.

It was as she wanted it-- a good death, I think. For that, we owe much to the dry sounding notion of "elder housing with supportive services."