If so, and if you're the happy owner of a mellow, lap-loving feline, consider the benefits of taking him or her on nursing-home visits. It can be a win-win situation for everyone concerned!

Cat-loving residents get the pleasure of holding and stroking an appreciative furball -- and possibly to hear and feel the phenomenon of purring. (Purring is one of the things cats have over dogs.)

Your cat gets to enjoy lots of lovin' from someone who is not in any hurry to end the session.

And you get the pleasure of making some old people very happy.

If this sounds like a good idea to you, why not give the Activities Director of your nearest nursing home a call to explore the possibilities?

Has anyone else noticed the epidemic of adult children abandoning their parents? I personally know a number of parents aged 50 and up who rarely or never hear from their children; and there are more and more web sites and online forums addressing the problem. 
  
In some cases, the kids are just super busy, don’t need yet another obligation, and so rank “call the folks” low on their To Do lists. Is this simply payback of the sort Harry Chapin sang about decades ago in “Cat’s in the Cradle”?   
 
My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it,
and as he grew He'd say
"I'm gonna be like you dad
You know I'm gonna be like you"

 …

 I've long since retired, my son's moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"
He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad
It's been sure nice talking to you"

And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me

Maybe that usually is the problem, although I certainly see once-neglectful parents -- those who had little time for their young children – being lavished with attention now that those children have grown up. “What goes around comes around” doesn’t seem to apply in these cases.
 
But is there something more insidious going on? For instance, are we seeing adult kids rejecting parents just because they’re no longer cool? The good Lord knows that there’s not a lot of respect left for the aging – those that we Baby Boomers defined as anyone over 30, back in the day. 
  
There was a time when the fear of God, and respect for the Ten Commandments, were major influences in the western world. Not so today. One by one, those Commandments have been torn down and stomped on until only a faithful remnant is left to obey. 
 
Are we now seeing the destruction of the last one standing – the 5th?

"Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you.” (Exodus 20:12). 

I’m afraid that this may indeed be the case. 

Fortunately, there's a great solution. Whatever your personal circumstances may be, go out and be a friend to someone who has been abandoned by his or her kids, and is without resources; you'll find lots of them in the nearest nursing home. And if you haven't done so already, get right with God; in the end, the only thing that really matters is where you'll be spending eternity.

"The question may be asked what is being done regarding the spiritual and emotional needs of the elderly. This is the niche of practical theology, as indicated by one definition of practical theology that it is ‘a place where religious belief, tradition and practice meet contemporary experiences, questions and actions and conducts a dialogue that is mutually enriching, intellectually critical, and practically transforming’ ... The aims of this exploratory article are (1) to investigate to what extent research in practical theology has addressed the spiritual and emotional needs of the elderly and (2) to identify opportunities where practical theology may provide service in the field of gerontology."

This excerpt from an article published in an international theological journal is living proof that too much education can be worse than useless. What does the Lord call us to do about the spiritual and emotional needs of the elderly?

"Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching." (2 Timothy 4:2)  

And "Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world." (James 1:27)

Enough said.

You may have noticed the recent leap in the TV advertising from attorneys trolling for potential nursing-home victims. Apparently they’ve discovered a deep well of malpractice riches just waiting to be tapped by enterprising lawyers. 
 
I think it’s pretty disgusting, personally. 
  
No doubt there are crummy nursing homes out there where residents are left hour after hour without being turned, in the process developing ghastly bedsores. 
 
No doubt there are facilities so understaffed that residents end up trying to transfer themselves to or from the toilet without help, and wind up hurting themselves in falls. 
 
No doubt there are places where cries of pain from an arthritic hip or infected catheter are ignored by indifferent nurses.
 
True all true. But there’s another side to this story. Here it is, in a nutshell.
 
Not even the nicest nursing homes can afford to watch residents 24x7. Yet, at least in Wisconsin, there are strict laws against doing everything possible to protect them from themselves. 
 
That means that occasional falls are almost inevitable. Some residents forget that they can no longer walk, and try to make it to the bathroom on foot. Others are too proud to use their walkers or wheelchairs, or are in too much of a hurry. Too often, blood flows and bones are broken, and it has much more to do with Big Brother legislating against "constraints" than it does with neglect on the part of the home.
 
There will be other mishaps as well. Some residents will fall out of bed, for instance. The best Wisconsin facilities are allowed to do is to lower the bed almost to the floor and stretch pads alongside the bed to catch a fall. Protective rails are not allowed, you see, until the resident has actually hurt himself or herself without them; the State of Wisconsin considers that unreasonable restraint, or whatever the proper government lingo is this week. 
  
Ditto for seat belts in wheelchairs. Oh, sure, a resident who is likely to try to ambulate can be fitted with an alarm, but consider what happens if he or she decides to take a little walk: By the time anyone could get to him to prevent a fall, it may already be too late. 
  
I know about this sort of regulation from first-hand experience. My mother had a seizure disorder and begged for side rails on her bed. The State of Wisconsin, in its infinite wisdom, said no, not until you've hurt herself.  Case closed. 
 
There are other problems that are almost unavoidable when you’re caring for the fragile elderly. For instance, some simply can’t explain where it hurts; many others can’t even explain THAT it hurts. And some people are going to get bed sores no matter how frequently they’re turned. 
 
That’s not to excuse any sort of abuse or neglect. If we have a loved one in a nursing home, we really need to keep a sharp eye on them, dropping in frequently and unexpectedly whenever possible. We need to speak up if we find the care lacking, or the hygiene, or if we think there are medication issues that need to be addressed immediately. 
  
But we also need to keep our expectations realistic – and do a thorough job of vetting each candidate facility before investing the first day or dime in one.  
 
In my opinion, these lawsuits are going to do nothing but drive up nursing-home costs at the same time that Medicaid and Title 19 reimbursements are plummeting. I imagine that some homes will be forced to close. And this is all happening just as aging Baby Boomers are causing the elderly population to swell. Bottom line: More demand, less supply, with the cost of beds designated for private-payers (those who subsidize the Title 19 residents) skyrocketing beyond the reach of the average person. 
 
It’s an ugly situation however you look at it, and these lawsuits are not helping anyone but the lawyers who bring them.     

Well, well, well, imagine that – the Affordable Care Act (AKA Obamacare) really is good for the elderly! Title VIII, the CLASS Act, provides for long-term care insurance. According to no less an authority that the White House itself:  
 
“The Act provides Americans with a new option to finance long-term services and care in the event of a disability. It is a self-funded and voluntary long-term care insurance choice. Workers will pay in premiums in order to receive a daily cash benefit if they develop a  disability.” 

Just like the private, self-funded, voluntary Long-Term Care policy my mother took out in 1973, or the self-funded, voluntary Long-Term Care policies my husband and I bought almost 15 years ago, but it must be better if the feds felt compelled to enter the market. And after all, the White House says it’s a “new option.”

If you’re like me, you’re looking forward to finding out what’s new about it, and to learning how much it will cost – no doubt it will be lots less than our current premiums, because the government is so much more efficient than any private enterprise. Lucky thing, since the White House assures us that No Tax Dollars Will Be Used To Pay Benefits Under this Provision. 
 
This Obamacare aficionado at an online investigative publication seems to have ferreted out one of the numbers: "It would pay out at least $18,250 a year that could go toward any in-home support services, including paying loved ones as caregivers."
 
Now, come on, you skeptics out there. Sure, it looks like a plan that’s susceptible to abuse and fraud, but do you really think anyone would steal from us taxpayers? Oh, you of little faith in the inherent goodness of mankind!
 
And talk about generous! If that $18,250 a year is a sign of what this policy will pay a nursing home to care for you, rejoice -- that's enough to pay for a good three months in a decently ranked Wisconsin facility! The rest of the time – well, maybe that’s where all this compassionate “end of life” care kicks in, I guess, at least in states that haven’t yet legalized assisted suicide and euthanasia.

Once again, we see that the President's heart is in the right place. And that's really all that matters, isn't it?

Here's an interesting article from Alzheimers.net on ways of stimulating memory and a sense of accomplishment in Alzheimer's patients. It's probably intuitive when we're intereacting with our own parents; I know some of the best talks my mom and I had in her last years involved simply sharing memories of our best years. And just talking about the good old days with elderly friends is a wonderful way to connect with them, and have a great time doing so.

But this piece is sparking some new ideas for visiting elderly people with dementia. Maybe it will do the same for you!

 

This is one of a number of interesting images at http://fstoppers.com/pics-reflections-portraits-of-the-elderly-as-they-once-were -- images to remind us that the only difference between us and the elderly is time.

One of my favorite things to do is to spend time with an elderly friend, looking through her old photos and hearing the stories connected with each one. These stories are always interesting, and are often heart-wrenching reminders of the sacrifices these people made for us (and of how spoiled we are today). 

Which of course makes it even sadder that one of the few growth industries in this country is housing for the elderly. It wasn't always this way; just a handful of decades ago, old people lived with their children. Now too many are abandoned by their kids, having been turned over to professionals who, in the best facilities (see eg www.care-age.com), have more love and compassion for these dear old people than the children do.  

When I was only twenty-one

My hands were slim and fine;

And all the world and I well knew

None were so soft as mine.

I looked with scorn at Mother's hands

That were no longer fair.

I didn't know that love for me

Had etched the wrinkles there.

But when my mother's hands were still

Forever, ever more,

I saw such beauty through my tears

As I'd not known before.

Now that I tend my own hearth fire,

I pray, when my work's done,

My hands will look like Mother's did

When I was twenty-one.

-- Ethel Boehm Foth

When I first started doing visits at “my” nursing home in the wake of my mother’s death, one of the first people Activities gave me to visit was a Christian Scientist. I’ll call her Christine; she often told me that was the name she’d wished her parents had given her, so I’ll give it to her now. 
 
I had just launched my search for the truth of our existence when I met Christine, and was excited to think that she could help me along the way. At
that time, I had no idea that there was nothing Christian about Mary Baker Eddy’s “Christian Science.” Our early conversations only served to further my confusion as I studied the world’s theologies in my newfound drive to figure out
what was true, and what was not. 
 
But a couple years into our relationship, when I finally had a solid understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I’d also begun to understand how nonsensical is Christian Science’s view of God and the world we live in – including its insistence that we do not exist physically and that perceived pain is the result of erroneous thinking. This was especially ironic for Christine, who was crippled with arthritis and perhaps some unknown neurological disorder. But she denied her diseases, even as they swallowed up her ability to speak and left her in screaming pain; she was convinced that her symptoms were all the result of errors in her thought process.  
 
As I came to the knowledge of the truth, I became very concerned not only about Christine’s peace in this life but about her eternal destiny. And I began sharing the Gospel with her. She resisted mightily, having been raised in CS from early childhood by a grandmother who must have been one of the original followers of Mary Baker Eddy. (If you’d like to know more about this cult, visit www.christianway.org, an excellent website created by some of its former members.) 

I spent more than four years with Christine, becoming more and more assertive about unmasking her bizarre ideas as I realized, with growing horror, the enormity of the false teachings she was trusting in. I would wring my hands and worry aloud that she was undoubtedly headed for hell if she didn’t repent and trust in the Jesus who revealed Himself in the Bible, rather than the one presented by “Mrs. Eddy” in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. The women at www.christianway.org even sent me a collection of excellent audio tapes exposing this cult’s false teachings, and I played them for her until she commanded me to stop -- for that session, anyway.

I was, in short, relentless. It wasn’t long before her CS practitioner – an equally deceived woman who practiced highly profitable telepathic healing -- complained about me to the facility’s administrator. Which meant that the very dear Activities Director, who is a genuine believer herself, was forced to have a stern talk with me about bashing a resident’s beliefs. In fact, I’d put her in the very awkward position of having to ask me to change or to leave; she would have had no choice. 
  
And that would have done no one any good. One way or the other, offending a resident would have compromised any further work I might accomplish on behalf of the gospel. 
  
In retrospect, I could have been gentler, and more patient, and perhaps more loving with Christine. If this woman were alive today, I hope I would have approached her with more compassion.
 
Would you like to know how this story ended? So would I.
 
The real question, of course, is whether Christine ultimately received Jesus Christ. 
 
One Saturday in the late summer of 2004, I had a relentless and irresistible urge to visit her apart from my regularly scheduled weekly visit. When I entered her room and announced myself, she screamed “There is a God!” – the first intelligible words to come out of her mouth in a year. She was in a great deal of pain and distress, but calmed down as we read from John’s gospel. By the time I left, she seemed to be resting peacefully.
 
I returned on Monday morning – my regular visiting day back then – to learn that Christine had died just an hour before my arrival. Would I like to see her? I would, and I did, and seeing her face relaxed at last, I wondered: Was she now in heaven?
 
The truth is, I don’t know.  She had certainly heard the gospel many times. And she really didn’t have anyone but me in the end – no husband, no children, no visits from other Christian Scientists to shore up her increasingly confused understanding of Mrs. Eddy's teachings. Perhaps the Lord had put her in this position of almost complete social isolation in order to hedge her in, to force her to consider His gospel. And perhaps she did before she took her last breath. 
 
I sure am looking forward to finding out.