The Cycle of Life

I have recently been spending more time with the very old, via the volunteering that my family has started doing at an old people’s home. The time with the old has brought me great peace and joy, has reinforced some impressions and challenged some others.

I have observed a lot to support the theory that life is a cycle, in which our end has quite a strong resemblance to our beginning. I guess the theory has little practical application on its own, it is really just a pretty model, but it is amazing how the lessons we learn about dealing with the very young can sometimes be applied as well to the very old.

The theory is most obvious in physical things. When we are born, we cannot control our bodily functions and need nappies. We can only digest simple food, in liquid or puréed form and without too much spice. Our senses are less well developed too, starting life nearly blind and deaf. As we enter our last years, we start to resemble babies in all these respects. We even get physically smaller as well as weaker and more fragile.

These same weaknesses lead to similarities in how very old people and babies need to be treated. As a new father wed to a mother with prior experience, I learned that babies value routine. Many families take their infants on holiday and try to give them grand experiences. While face time is critical to bond, I disagree. The baby does not notice or care about or remember the Eiffel Tower, but will certainly notice the missed sleep on the way and the ill-suited meals and the strange surroundings.

The same becomes true of the very old. The memory of the glorious view or fantastic artistic performance becomes likely to be overshadowed by the unfortunate accident with the nappy on the way or the ordeal of getting up the steps of the theatre, and the sleep pattern can be disturbed for weeks afterwards once the routine is broken.

There are also some similarities in the way old and young people think. Both are more likely to be honest and unadorned in their opinions. Utterances “out of the mouths of babes” are almost as likely to come from old people, so they are good folk to have your assumptions tested and your hubris dented. Both the old and the young know the value of simplification, and both have plenty of time to observe what is going on.

But there are pitfalls in following this model too. Most notable is the temptation to underestimate the intelligence or powers of appreciation of the old. I have learned this the hard way and made some heartless mistakes on the way, and probably still make mistakes every week.

A baby can appreciate music but will not really be able to converse on the merits of Mozart. Just play them the music and share joy from the resulting smiles and peace.

The old can be very different. True, their attention time is shorter. Certainly the hearing will be a lot weaker. Often, their skills of articulation will have diminished too, perhaps because of loss of teeth or mouth function. Sadly, memory can depart as well, though this happens in a peculiar way and varies for different old people. One delightful lady we visit can regale of her childhood in remarkable detail, but ask her if she has already had her soup and she won’t be able to remember.

The mistake is to observe these physical disabilities and to assume that the brain has also become child-like. Sometimes it has, but much more often it has not. It is a great gift to a very old person to respect their intellect and knowledge and to try to engage them in intelligent conversation. Communication may be slow and take some wrong turnings, but the result can still be wonderful. When conversing with a very old person, our model should be that of a foreigner with poor language skills rather than a baby. Too often, we observe baby-like behaviour, and assume a baby-like brain.

One of my singing groups recently performed in “our” old peoples home. It was a wonderful afternoon, full of smiles and warmth. True, some of them struggled to hear everything, some even had to leave part way through for a stretch break or nap or other physical need. Some came along because there was little else to do and would have preferred a different type of music. But many were able to appreciate the concert. It would have been a mistake to include more accessible songs or to compensate in some other way beyond keeping the programme short and the room comfortable.

Recently on PBS I saw a news segment about a wonderful experiment in Seattle, one that might be widely replicated before long. The world has an ever-growing number of very old people who are underemployed for their skills and often bored. It also has a shortage of affordable childcare. In Seattle they have turned these two challenges into a marvellous opportunity, by opening a childcare centre inside an old folks home.

I could immediately imagine how this could work. At “our” home, there is nothing that perks the residents up like children. If a grandchild or great grandchild visits everyone is happy, and the child is given plenty of attention. The residents often display a rare talent for understanding the needs of the young child, perhaps from a mixture of experience, patience and some shared life needs.

Of course, both groups still need professional supervision; they can’t just be left to look after each other. Perhaps there can be some overlap in their care needs, and together there can be efficient use of space, so there can be some cost savings from a combined operation, but that is not the primary motivation to do it.

The primary motivation is about outcomes for both groups. The seniors can have entertainment, exercise their brains, find a bit of a purpose, have something to look forward to, and that way stay healthier for longer. The juniors can be entertained and can learn more easily, can observe different facets of life and be better prepared for pre-school than would otherwise be the case.

One interesting discussion on the news item about the combined facility was about death. The seniors do have a habit of dying, and, no matter how well-prepared they are, the last days and weeks can be difficult. Juniors are not likely to be sensitive in their handling of such issues, and will become confused and frustrated if someone they have come to love suddenly disappears from their lives.

Yet I can see a positive side to this too, as it helps youngsters see another reality of life in a relatively controlled way. Apparently the shared facility will try to shield the very young from the realities of death, but will begin to be more open with the slightly older kids. This seems to make sense.

The very old will become a greater part of everybody’s life in the next generation, as more and more people live to very great ages. With younger generations prizing mobility, caring for the very old will become an even bigger test for society. At the same time, mature societies have learned that the first two or three years of life matter a great deal in terms of preparing infants for better outcomes. Here is that rare idea that can address two pressing concerns at the same time. I applaud the people in Seattle, wish them well and would love to visit one day. But most of all, I’d love to see the idea spread to other places.