Social Isolation

Taken For Granted

Most of us take our lives for granted. The amazing miracles of a healthy body are dismissed with the wants and desires we strive to attain, or it's lost in the pile of bills, obligations, and commitments we make daily. It's easy to dismiss the things we've grown accustomed to, the ability to use our five sense, use our limbs and let our bodies function in the background. However, that isn't the same for everyone.

For most aging folks, the decline of health comes steadily. Life seems to be in a virtual stand-still for them while the younger generations around them zoom by with their own agendas and schedules. We - the younger generation - don't realize the capabilities we have at our disposal. The older generation does...because they don't have them anymore.

When Life Slowed Down

Dad has always been active. On his feet and on the go, it was hard for him when his health began to decline. Already struggling - but still moving forward - with the TBI from the 1980s, Dad pushed forward with any task at hand. However, when seizures emerged and imbalance increased, Dad spent more and more time on the couch.

It must have been difficult for him to sit there day in and day out, only getting up for bathroom trips, meal times and bed time. When his balance improved slightly and the seizures lessened, he'd get back up and help with any chores he could.

Strokes eventually complicated life more and Dad spent more time sitting. Life slowed down and the days seemed long.

A Sedentary Life

Although we did our best to get Dad up and moving, someone needed to be alongside him to help with the imbalance challenges he faced every time he got up on his feet. Dad lived a lot of his life on the couch. It wasn't because he was lazy, but because he was dizzy most of the time, standing or sitting.

Sitting on the couch meant more than health challenges increasing from lack of movement. It meant more than losing independence. It also meant a life of social isolation. Suddenly, Dad couldn't go places. Living out in the country reduced the likelihood of anyone dropping by for a visit. Outside contact immediately dropped.

The Less Fortunate

I feel a sense of loss for those who are not so blessed. They sit in Assisted Living Facilities, waiting day-in-and-day-out for loved ones, family members, friends to visit. Unable to do move around, losing their independence can't be easy to handle. To sit and wait all day long without meaningful connection intensifies a different kind of social isolation.

It is possible to be around lots of people and still feel alone. Sometimes that loneliness can be eroded with new friendships, but it takes daily meaningful connection to build a sense of significance and validation.

Social isolation for the aging is a reality. Caregivers who take on most of the responsibilities can offer small pockets of hope and connection when they interact with the one they take care of. However, if it was similar to my situation, taking care of an aged parent at home plus facilitating the household, stopping for a visit was difficult as well.

Many Hats to Wear

Caregivers have many responsibilities to attend to on a daily basis. Depending on the level of care required, and other contributing factors, caregivers may (or may not) have to do more than their share of work every day.

While the level of care Dad needed wasn't constant, the level of supervision was. Since seizure would strike without warning, being a constant companion was necessary. This put an extra strain on other responsibilities.

The most difficult time for me was during supper preparation. As soon as Dad needed to make a bathroom trip, I had to stop all prep and leave to go with him alongside. While he could take care of himself, I needed to be nearby in case of a seizure. Most of the time trips happened without incidence, although it did happen enough.

Ideas to Conquer Social Isolation

We encouraged phone calls, but only a few were committed to call Dad regularly. Thankfully, some of his children did and helped fill his day with meaningful connection. Close friends also obliged and when they could, they made a point to drop in and visit.

Mom and I set up time to spend with Dad every evening after supper. We played UNO for 30 minutes or even up to an hour. Slow at first, Dad enjoyed the game. Within weeks, he played well enough to stay up with the quick pace and even won a few games. Making family memories, we laughed and talked, snacked and sipped juice while we played the game.

Dad looked forward to that time. He made sure that the cards were out ahead of time. He talked about getting ready to play before supper. He even tried shuffling, a complex exercise for his affected hand. It was a small gesture, a pocket of time out of our schedule, but it meant a lot to Dad.

Looking Back

When I think about it, life is not about what I can attain or accomplish, but how I treat others. Facilitating Dad's care wasn't easy, but it was an opportunity to let him know that he was worthwhile. Spending time with him let him know that he had value.

He would talk about visits for days afterward. He would tell and retell phone conversations and then think of ways to help those he talked with. Sometimes he got letters. Mom read the letters to Dad and then Dad would share his thoughts for a response letter.

These small moments encouraged Dad. Imagine, how such a small gesture impacted him and made him feel significant, that there were people who still cared enough to validate him.