Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Emotional Touch. There's Not Yet An App For That.

Gimme a hug. Give us a sqwunch. Get in here. Hug it out. Slap me five. Slip me some skin. Up high. Down low. Too slow.



Over the last several years, major technological advances have been made in the field of senior care. Families who are separated by thousands of miles are now able to monitor virtually all facets of their aging loved one's lives via the internet. Whether it is a daily medication reminder software or a computer enabled shoe to measure the stability of a senior's gait, sons and daughters rest more easily feeling that they know what is going on with mom and dad.

Many in the senior industry feel that the combination of innovative tools now available and the general reticence of seniors to transition into a facility environment is causing a paradigm shift in the way America approaches aging. It would seem that the justification for living out one's golden years in a nursing home has been rescinded; an intended casualty of the ability to address the physical needs and safety concerns of an aging parent from a distance with minimal cost.

But there exists within the physical world gaps which cannot be filled by the miracle of modern science.

In the 1940's, a Hungarian psychiatrist named Rene Spitz conducted research on the effects of emotional deprivation in infants. Spitz observed children who, for various reasons, had been separated from or denied a loving family and raised instead in an institutional environment. His research noted that while the observed babies' physical needs were being met, the emotional toll of not having any sort of familial affection or compassionate physical touch were catastrophic. By the conclusion of the study, more than one third of the babies had died. After 40 years, 21 of the emotionally neglected children were still living in institutions and most were physically, mentally and socially retarded.

The affect of this sort of cruel deprivation during formulative years is unquestionably debilitating. However, I would suggest that the isolation many seniors face on a daily basis is equally tragic.


Imagine that you are a senior. No longer able to drive, you are fully reliant on paid caregivers for your only live human contact each week. A caregiver comes in on Tuesdays and Fridays with a laundry list of things they have been told by your kids are top priorities; dishes, vacuum, groceries, trash, bathrooms, dusting, prepare a few meals to be easily reheated later and of course...laundry. With a friendly but quick greeting, the caregiver arrives and immediate begins to tackle the mission at hand. Rather than disturb her work, you retreat to your worn beige recliner where you doze off during "The Pioneer Woman," daydreaming about what life must be like on the ranch with Ree and the kids. She leaves as quickly as she arrived, having satisfactorily completed the requisite tasks and reported to your children that all was well with their parent today.

Now imagine an alternative scenario. Your caregiver arrives a couple minutes early with a decaf Chai latte, your favorite Starbucks treat, in hand. Before she even glances at the list of absolute musts, the two of you sit down in the sunroom and talk. You just talk. Maybe you talk about the crazy weather. Maybe you talk about nothing at all. Still, you talk and sip your latte. At one point, the caregiver puts down her cup, gently wraps her warm hands around one of yours and tells you how much she enjoys getting to spend time with you each week. The rest of your time together is a blur. You hate it when it's time for her to leave for the day. During every task she accomplished, you were by her side; helping, instructing, living. There is no need for her to report in to your adult children after today's shift. Instead, you pick up the phone. You can't wait to reach out to the people in your life and tell them all about the day you just enjoyed.

The ability to emotionally connect with people is a God-given gift. Without a certain amount of innate sensitivity, I do not believe it can be successfully taught. I am proud to say that many of the individuals who possess this remarkable gift are a part of our Home Instead family. Some work in nursing homes and facilities. Still others float in and out of our lives disguised as postal employees, baristas, pastors, tellers and grocery store clerks. Despite all of our modern advancements, there is not yet an app for that.









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