My mom had a fall last winter. She was walking to her mailbox when she slipped on a patch of ice. The plow had piled the drifts of snow high, and it seemed fortunate at first that she had fallen into one such mound, as it cushioned what might have otherwise been a rather serious blow. Then her situation became a little more tenuous when she realized she was trapped by the heavy wet stuff. She sat there for more than three hours until a Good Samaritan, noticing her dilemma, stopped to help her free herself. “No harm done,” she concluded, laughing, as she told me the story several days later. “I was a little cold, but nothing a cup of coffee didn’t take care of!”
Stunned speechless, I could barely martial a reply. “Are you okay?” I managed, trying to make sense of how scared she must have been. To lie there—in the road!—for hours and be unable to free oneself! I could scarcely comprehend it, although I knew that many seniors suffered falls in their homes every year. I just, naively, never thought of my own mother as one of these people.
“Oh, I’m a bit sore. My knee twisted a bit,” she answered. “But it’s hard to tell that from the arthritis.”
“But are you all right?” I pressed. “That must have been terrifying. Where was your phone?”
“I’m fine.” I could practically feel her shrugging off the concern. “It really wasn’t anything.”
The conversation was prologue to future concerns, and I noticed a pattern forming: whether it was a slight ache, cold, surgery or accident, Mom was willing to discuss how she felt physically, but she seemed to shy away from how it impacted her emotionally. “Oh, my leg sure hurts today!” was an easy and frequent topic of conversation, but if my sister or I dared to ask how her mounting infirmaries were affecting her outlook on life, she would clam right up. “I’m fine,” was the standard answer.
Mom wasn’t alone in her evasiveness; I noticed that many of my clients seemed to prefer discussing one part of their lives while dismissing others. If they didn’t mind discussing their aches and pains, then they might not like to talk about their feelings. On the other hand, if I spoke to someone about how much their mood impacted their ability to function, they were likely to quiet down if I chanced a question about their physical health. Do you know any friends or family who follow this trend?
A study published in the National Institutes of Health may shed some light on the subject. In a response to the question regarding the reason for loneliness in older adults, a group of researchers delved into this very topic. After examining many aspects of how people live, they came away with some interesting conclusions: older people have a varied number of fears that contribute to their isolation as they age. The barriers to social participation can range from anything from the perceived loss of their identity, to disability, fears of social rejection and so on and so forth. The researchers concluded that while participants’ anxieties might be able to be sorted into categories, they were still unique to each individual. The treatment for loneliness, in turn, must be tailored to each person’s fear and their own worry that is preventing social participation.1
With this in mind, I considered my own mother. To me, declining physical health would be frightening. I prefer to discuss the emotions that might accompany such a drastic change. She obviously didn’t feel the same way; perhaps she viewed her aches and pains as a natural process, and focus on her mental health was distressing. She may feel that I was calling her competency into question in some way with questions that were more invasive than she preferred. It was foreign and backwards to me, but if she needed a different means of support, it was incumbent on me to find the way. The point of a connection is to ease the barriers of communication. With good communication comes a building of trust and an ease of loneliness. When dealing with an aging population of friends and family, it is important to set aside our own concerns and listen to the message behind the words with careful consideration. Oftentimes, it is the thing left unsaid that causes the most pain, and only by building trust can we truly understand and help ease this pain. This happens not on our timetable, but on theirs. With that in mind, I picked up the phone. It was time to stop asking about heartache and start listening to arthritis.
