“Let’s
Rock and Roll” poster at Senior & Disability Action office
“It’s
shocking how age-segregated American society is …Nothing changes if we stay in
our silos, and one of the really, really important things about living in
society is having friends of all ages. It connects people empathetically, and
that’s critically important.”
--Ashton
Applewhite, author of This Chair Rocks: A
Manifesto Against Ageism (2016) on why ageism is not ok
About a
year ago after pondering the value of age-segregation, I left my job at a
senior-focused organization to work in disability rights advocacy and later
supportive housing. Since the latter organizations
served all ages, my intention was to bring a gerontologist’s perspective and promote intergenerational relationships.
However, in
these environments for all ages, I was disappointed that the concerns of older
adults were often marginalized (in favor of investing in the future of younger
ages; staff training involved chanting “Youth matters!” and ideas for after-school
programs) or equated with children (so occupy their time with bingo games). Like the late gerontologist James Birren, who
found that residents in retirement “age ghetto” communities actually were more
satisfied with
their lives than were community residents of the same age, I learned from my
senior residents that they really preferred the quiet and safety of living in
senior housing (--just as I am enjoying this Spring Break week’s peaceful commute on Muni bus,
without younger, often boisterous, students onboard).
Like the
Parable of the Prodigal Son, I soon realized the error of my idealism for an
age-less society when the real world remains ageist,
and returned to the Aging Network!
At senior sites where I worked in
supportive housing, homebound tenants appeared to be almost as vulnerable as
nursing home residents since they must depend on and wait for others’
availability to access food, healthcare, transportation, assistance with
activities of daily living, etc. Thus, I
decided to join a senior-focused organization serving seniors who are mostly homebound due to disability (including low-grade agoraphobia,
but not by choice like shut-ins who use on-demand economy for convenience).
Disability
rights
I learn how to be a better advocate of community living for homebound
seniors when I meet disability rights advocates.
At
LightHouse for the Blind, Summer Beasley-Hoffman, an ACVREP certified
Orientation & Mobility specialist at Veterans’ Administration, demonstrated
two-point touch technique of tapping long white cane from left to right. She said studies show that using white cane increased
yield to pedestrians about 90%! Good
information to share with older adults who believe using a cane makes them more
vulnerable because this “advertises” their disability.
At Ed Roberts Campus, Ralf Hotchkiss (Whirlwind
Wheelchair founder), Anthony Tusler (About Disability consultant), Cathy Kudlick (Longmore Institute Director) and Corbett O’Toole (author
of Fading Scars:
My Queer Disability History) were panelists in celebration of Paul K. Longmore’s posthumous
publication, Telethons: Spectacle, Disability, and the Business of Charity (2016). The Jerry Lewis telethon for the
Muscular Dystrophy Association (MDA) was ageist in parading cute disabled kids
as poster-children needing audience’s donations to cure them, while adults who
made up two-thirds of MDA’s clients were invisible. The MDA telethon ended last year after a 60-year run. I like Andrew Pulrang's "Telethon Thoughts" from Disability Thinking:
“Unless you have a disability yourself, you have to think
actively and practice deliberate empathy to understand how a well-intended
fundraiser can be not only distasteful, but even harmful…
I don’t really object to raising money for medical research into
disabling conditions. I resent the fact that the general public is consistently
more excited about supporting those efforts than they are
about supporting equal rights, equal
access, and the nuts-and-bolts stuff disabled people need to live decent lives
with our disabilities. It’s strange, when you think about it. “Medical
Research” is so abstract, and outcomes so fleeting, while building ramps and
buying people speech synthesizers is entirely concrete, with immediate payoff.
You would think all us practical-minded Americans would rather give to pay for
things people can use, than to provide open-ended funding for fuzzy dreams.”
At SFSU Campus, Smith-Kettlewell scientist inventor
Joshua Miele delivered Longmore Institute on Disability lecture on How Access Really Happens: Disability, Technology, and Design Thinking. Dr. Miele talked about his role as scientist/scholar who is blind and
member of disability community to “demand, require, cajole the world into
giving what we need to do things we want.” Dr. Miele’s work involves designing and
developing technology for people with visual disabilities relating to access to
information, such as tactile maps. This
might involve breaking the rules to get what we want until the rules change,
and then real access happens; he said permission is less valuable than the
outcome as in the case with his tactile BART station map project, which was
completed two years ago without waiting for BART to provide plans, and his
ongoing YouDescribe project (to add audio description to YouTube videos).
He reminded us that accessibility principles are not
guidelines/standards so we need to go to users who understand what needs are.
Seniors dominate in end-of-life issues
Seniors dominate in end-of-life issues
At SF End-of-Life Network meeting, Co-Chair Nate Hinerman introduced Roy Remer, Director of Guest House Facility and Volunteer Programs at 6-bed Zen Hospice residential care facility for chronically ill and 60-bed hospice/palliative care floor at Laguna Honda Hospital. Zen Hospice integrates social and medical services with spirituality (Zen mindfulness) to enable the dying to live fully toward the end. Its caregiver volunteer program is rigorous, involving 43 hours of training, minimum 1 year commitment of 5 hours each week. Outside of Zen Hospice, Roy guides wilderness rites of passage to prepare us for death and help us in the process of grief.
At SFSU, Gerontology Professor and
Interim Faculty Director at the Institute for Palliative Care Brian de Vries moderated a panel discussion with BJ Miller, MD (Zen Hospice),
Rabbi Eric Weiss (Bay Area Jewish Healing Center), Redwing Keyssar, RN (Jewish
Family and Children Services) and Daphne Stuart, LCSW (UCSF Symptom Management Service) on Everything You Wanted to Know About
Palliative Care in San Francisco. In
a nutshell, palliative care is person-centered and multidisciplinary focused on
improving quality of life, including pain and suffering relief,
psychological/spiritual support for patient and family, and conversation on
choice and hope. Hospice is a form of
palliative care, but most palliative care is not end-of-life care or hospice.
Shireen McSpadden, Interim Director
of San Francisco Department of Aging and Adult Services, remarked that several
panelists (Miller, Keysaar, Weiss) serve on San Francisco Palliative Care Task
Force, which produced its 2014 Final Report.
At The Booksmith, Ann Neumann and Katy
BJ Miller’s Mindful Take on Death
ReplyDeleteOn April 6, Kanbar Hall was full of talk about death – but the mood wasn’t as dour as you might think. In fact, guest speaker BJ Miller had the audience engaged, relaxed and even laughing as he approached the topic with a mindful, matter-of-fact outlook that’s all too rare in our culture.
Miller is a palliative care physician and the Senior Director of San Francisco’s Zen Hospice Project, and Dr. Lucy Kalanithi introduced him with a quote from her late husband’s book, When Breath Becomes Air. Dr. Paul Kalanithi writes, “it’s easy to imagine Zen Hospice as a kind of Chez Panisse of death, and BJ Miller as death’s Alice Waters.” This comparison elicited the first of many chuckles, but it’s quite astute. Just as Chez Panisse earned recognition for minimalist preparations that let the pure flavors of high-quality ingredients shine through, Zen Hospice creates a space where death can be experienced mindfully and appreciated as the universally shared life experience it is.
At Zen Hospice, residents are invited to find meaning in the experience of dying and gain an ability to sit with suffering. In his spirited conversation with New York Times Magazine writer Jon Mooallem, Miller described the Zen roots of the organization and its philosophy of approaching death rather than stepping away from it. He recognized meditation as an especially powerful practice in this context, noting that it can be “extra hard to be in the moment” at the end of life. He also emphasized the importance of aesthetic experiences, describing how they help us live in the moment by engaging our senses.
Mooallem ended the conversation by asking Miller how to best prepare for dying, and Miller’s answer was both obvious and profound: Avoid regrets, savor the good stuff and “[live] your life as best you can.”
You can watch Miller’s talk, Death as a Part of Life, at Arts & Ideas On Demand
https://www.jccsf.org/arts-ideas/ondemand/2015-2016-season/death-as-a-part-of-life
Hi!
ReplyDeleteMy name is Jacqueline Hatch and I am the Content Manager at Seniorly, Inc., a company that helps families make informed decisions about aging options.
I ran across your blog while doing research and am so impressed by your writing. I have been contemplating many of these issues recently and appreciate your unique point of view on these topics, which will continue to grow in importance as our country's population ages.
I'm wondering now if you ever consider writing guest posts for other blogs? My company has a Senior Living Blog and I think our readers would definitely benefit from your perspective. Feel free to reach out to me at jacqueline@seniorly.com if you are interested and I'd be happy to discuss the opportunity further.
I wish you all the best of luck with your blog and your writing. Keep up the great work!
Jacqueline
Does my choice of housing define me?
ReplyDeleteBy Lois Requist
September 20, 2016
I’m downsizing for the second time, and some folks think I’m “stepping down.”
I wanted to stay in downtown Benicia, a riverside town in southern Solano County. In the years I’ve been here, I’ve left the world of getting in my car every time I want to go somewhere. I looked at the options, which were limited. The one I chose raised a few eyebrows.
Rancho Benicia is a highly rated and gated retirement community (55 and older only), very well kept, with a pool and hot tub, a clubhouse and many activities for the residents. It’s almost crime free.
It’s a mobile home park. A block from the Benicia Marina, it’s often seen as another world.
“Trailer trash? Is that what you’ve come to?” someone asked.
,,,I’m 77, and though I’m very healthy, I began to realize that the steps to my former home, a second-floor condo, could become a challenge. They already were for some of my friends, or when I had to carry heavy items like suitcases up and down. So, I thought about downsizing again to a “level in.” No steps.
What was referred to in the ’40s and ’50s as a “trailer park” was often portrayed as a place for poor, low-life types, such as the three felons in the movie “Trailer Park Boys.” In the ’60s, the term “mobile home” came into use. Along with manufactured homes, they became popular with retirees, especially in Florida and Arizona, and as vacation homes throughout the country.
Who lives in such homes has changed dramatically over the years, though the stereotype of “low-lifes” still persists.
…Even when I moved from Moraga to Benicia, my Realtor said, “You won’t find as many intelligent people there.” I’ve been in Benicia since 2000 and have never lacked for stimulating companions.
At that time, I exchanged my four-bedroom, ranch-style house where I’d raised two sons and lost my husband to cancer, for a two-story condominium on the Benicia Marina, with a view of the Benicia Bridge and the Carquinez Strait.
Those who drive by Benicia on Interstate 680 see a refinery and an industrial area. That view doesn’t take in the historic downtown on the water’s edge, the yacht club and the marina. Once the state capital, Benicia still has the building where the Legislature met, along with many charming, old homes. First Street, the commercial hub, has many restaurants, shops, art galleries, wine and sports bars.
It’s a great place to live. I walk to coffee three mornings a week, to restaurants, shops, the library, the post office, the grocery store and the gym, where I practice yoga. All that is part of what keeps me healthy. Beyond that, I relate to the people in my community differently when I see them in person than I do when I’m a driver in another car.
I’m doing a complete redo of my new home and yard — I want flowers, which were a challenge in the condo where I lived. I’ll also be more free to travel and do the other things I’d like to do. Who knows how much time I have? In any case, looking at a short horizon for living in some ways increases one’s vision of what’s important.
So while some may be hung up on the cultural stereotype of mobile homes as “trashy,” I see myself living in a cottage surrounded by flowers, in a safe community, with access to the whole of downtown Benicia and beyond that, the rest of the Bay Area and the world. That’s not bad.
Lois Requist is an author and the former Benicia poet laureate.
http://www.sfchronicle.com/opinion/openforum/article/Does-my-choice-of-housing-define-me-9235469.php
BOB MILLER ON AGEISM
ReplyDeleteOctober 12, 2016
An essay from Advanced Style: Older and Wiser
I’ve never been 90 years old before, nor had I ever been 89 or 79 years old before, but I have been, am now, and will be. Not all things were a surprise. I had the advantage of observing the age-related changes and modifications of movement, thought, and physical appearance of my parents; a dynamic, involved, loving couple who were together from ages 16 and 19 and who lived to be 92 and 95 years old respectively. In their case, only in death were they separated.
We spent many hours discussing the ‘’ageing experience’’ a major portion of which was about how to people that they came in contact with—had dealings with, interacted, and dealt with—suddenly they were their ages first and their given names secondly.
Ageism is the discrimination towards the aged and ageing. I urge you to pay attention to too comments such as, ”Oh you forgot,” or, “You don’t remember.” That’s ageism. When you are passed over or ignored, when you are spoken to as if you were a child, when in any manner or means you are belittled or insulted because of your advanced age, that is age-ism at work. When your doctor talks to his assistant about you and your concerns instead of talking directly to you, his patient, that is ageism at work.
I want to see political involvement in a program that informs a course of action to correct these ills; outreach that advises when to call the better business bureau, or the dept of discrimination, and what to do when your complaint is ignored. I feel that ageing can be insulting, belittling, and diminishing. It destroys one’s sense of self, ones quality of life and good health. You must make a noise to have things change. Call and write your representatives—your senators, the president, all elected officials—advise them that they will not get your vote unless they help cure this disease.
In the meantime, be sure that you are involved in life and living. Know what is going on in the world around you. Listen to young people, do not lecture them, and you might just learn something you didn’t know or consider before. Avoid spending all your time with your age group; you’ll not learn anything you don’t already know. Make an effort to be well groomed and polished at all times; you’ll like yourself more, you’ll want to take “you out.” (Your clothes and grooming should and must be age appropriate.)
Life is an adventure. Get out there and live! – Bob Miller
http://www.advanced.style/
One Man’s Quest to Change the Way We Die
ReplyDeleteHow B.J. Miller, a doctor and triple amputee, used his own experience to pioneer a new model of palliative care at a small, quirky hospice in San Francisco.
BY JON MOOALLEM
JAN. 3, 2017
…Miller refused…to let himself believe that his life was extra difficult now, only uniquely difficult, as all lives are. He resolved to think of his suffering as simply a “variation on a theme we all deal with — to be human is really hard,” …. wondered what would happen if you could “reincorporate your version of reality, of normalcy, to accommodate suffering.” As a disabled person, he was getting all kinds of signals that he was different and separated from everyone else. But he worked hard to see himself as merely sitting somewhere on a continuum between the man on his deathbed and the woman who misplaced her car keys, to let his accident heighten his connectedness to others, instead of isolating him. This was the only way, he thought, to keep from hating his injuries and, by extension, himself.
…studying art history…lens through which to keep making sense of his injuries.
…looking at slides of ancient sculptures in a dark lecture hall, all of them missing arms or noses or ears, and suddenly recognizing them for what they were: fellow amputees. “We were, as a class, all calling these works monumental, beautiful and important, but we’d never seen them whole,” he says. Time’s effect on these marble bodies — their suffering, really — was understood as part of the art. Medicine didn’t think about bodies this way, Miller realized. Embedded in words like “disability” and “rehabilitation” was a less generous view: “There was an aberrant moment in your life and, with some help, you could get back to what you were, or approximate it.” So, instead of regarding his injuries as something to get over, Miller tried to get into them, to see his new life as its own novel challenge, like traveling through a country whose language he didn’t speak.
… “Why not tear that stuff off and delight in what actually is?” Miller recalled thinking...Then, he entered medical school and discovered palliative care, an approach to medicine rooted in similar ideas. He now talks about his recovery as a creative act, “a transformation,” and argues that all suffering offers the same opportunity, even at the end of life, which gradually became his professional focus. “Parts of me died early on,” he said in a recent talk. “…I got to redesign my life around this fact, and I tell you it has been a liberation to realize you can always find a shock of beauty or meaning in what life you have left.”
…Once an outlier, Zen Hospice has come to embody a growing nationwide effort to reclaim the end of life as a human experience instead of primarily a medical one. The goal, as Miller likes to put it, is to “de-pathologize death.”
… What is a good death? How do you judge? In the end, what matters?
…how best to gently reconcile everyone’s hopes with the merciless reality.
…Hope is a tricky thing, …amazing how easily others “re-proportion,” or recalibrate, their expectations …“how do you incorporate those hard facts into your moment-by-moment life instead of trying to run away from them?”
…A standard question in palliative care is “What’s important to you now?” …“So, what’s your favorite part of yourself? What character trait do we want to make sure to protect as everything else falls apart?”
…Buddhism …emphasis on accepting suffering, on not getting tripped up by one’s own discomfort around it. “You train people not to run away from hard things,…suffering of others,” Miller explained. This liberates residents to feel whatever they’re going to feel in their final days, even to fall apart.
...He couldn’t do much for them, medically. “But I’m letting them know I see their suffering,” he said. “That message helps somehow, some way, a little.”
…dying are still very much alive and we all are dying http://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/03/magazine/one-mans-quest-to-change-the-way-we-die.html