Proponents of transforming elder care focus on the words we use, and often suggest new language choices for much of our terminology.
There are two common operational practices that make it difficult for organizations to visualize a pathway to unlocking doors (and many other activities as well): all-or-none thinking and surplus safety. I explore each of these in the conclusion to my series “Hidden Restraints.”
Even without knowing all of the reasoning behind Gene Wilder’s decision to keep his diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease a secret, one can infer from his family’s statement that stigma was a big factor.
Walking (indoors and outdoors) is something we all do freely, every day, without even thinking about it. Moving away from “lock-down” memory care for people living with dementia not only helps alleviate distress, but also affirms and enables everyone’s basic human right to be able to move freely.
Recently, I posted a provocative argument for considering locked doors as physical restraints. I have received many comments about the post; and as promised, I am following up with a second installment (of three), in which I will give some guidelines for those who wish to take up the challenge.
The problem with “restraints” in long-term care is that in most cases the things we do to increase physical safety help us to feel better, but actually decrease the sense of security felt by the person. So it is with locked doors in memory care homes.
Would it surprise you if I said that the very organizations that are discouraging the abuse of antipsychotic drugs to treat people living with dementia are actually convincing people to use them? It’s a matter of language.
As it happens, I received two related news reports from colleagues today. Both concern the current state of affairs with psychotropic drug research, and the dangerous ways in which data is being manipulated and misrepresented.
I have decided to coin a new philosophy around the support of people who live with changing cognitive abilities.
This short and not-too-sweet post is an addendum to my guest editorial that was published here in McKnight’s on Friday, July 24th.
“Hello. My name is Richard, and I have dementia, probably of the Alzheimer’s type.” These are the words Dr. Richard Taylor used to open each of his presentations, as he enlightened the world about the lived experience of changing cognitive ability. Richard passed away at his home on July 25th, due to cancer.
In my last post I criticized the Australian Financial Review for its characterization of people living with dementia, and of our aging population in general. Now that the furor over that article has subsided somewhat, it’s time to tackle that deeper concern.