In the Alzheimer’s wing of the nursing home,
93-year-old Ellie Turner stuffs more napkins into her
worn-out black purse. The tarnished gold clasp clicks
into place for the one hundredth time in one hour. “I
have to fix the Underwood,” she says as she moves toward
the bathroom to change her pants.
Mrs. Turner is called Alzheimer’s demented, but I have
found that her behavior—and the behavior of thousands
like her—makes sense. Her behavior is caused not only by
damage to her recent memory, her logical thinking, and
her inability to tell clock time, but also by the way
she has lived her life. If someone enters her world,
accepting or validating her needs, she will not become
one of the living dead. She will die with dignity and
self-respect.
As a bookkeeper and file clerk for a large electric
company, Mrs. Turner used an Underwood typewriter for 50
years. When she was retired against her will at the age
of sixty-five, she put her trusty office companion in
her dining room. Every morning, Mrs. Turner’s daughter
found her typing for her “company.” Mrs. Turner knew she
was retired, but she could not accept the reality of her
situation. Her work was the most important thing in her
life, and she could not give it up. When, at age 93, she
could not accept the fact that she was losing bladder
control, she associated the loss of her Underwood with
the loss of control. She went to the bathroom to fix her
machine. The Underwood became a symbol of her old-age
losses.
Very old people who have not prepared for the physical
and psychological blows of aging often use symbols to
express their needs. They have not learned to face pain,
anger, frustration, shame, or guilt. Throughout life,
they have denied painful emotions. In very old age, the
denial worsens, and they blame others for their own
failures. Each age has its own, unique tendencies. A
three-year-old who talks to an imaginary playmate is not
hallucinating; she is developing her imagination and
verbal skills. If, at age 13, she talked to an imaginary
playmate, we would worry. By the same token, an
85-year-old is very different—physically, socially, and
psychologically—from a 70-year-old. We lose thousands of
brain cells each year, beginning in our late twenties.
Not surprising, this loss of brain tissue can affect our
logical thinking areas after eight to 10 decades of wear
and tear.
Many autopsies have uncovered Alzheimer plaques and
tangles in brains of very old people who were never
diagnosed with dementia. Many very old people, 85 to one
100, are interested in the outside world. They have
learned to roll with the punches of aging; they do not
hang onto outworn roles. They accept what they cannot
change. But there are many very old people who have
never learned to deal with their losses or their
emotions. They cannot face the loss of memory, job,
mobility, or control. These are the people who must now
look inside. Their job is not to know the outside world.
In their old age, they are simply preparing for their
final move. They no longer care about the present.
Caregivers can help these people communicate their
feelings and put past issues to rest. Rather than
viewing them as diseased, we can see them simply as very
old people in their final life struggle. When we tune
into their inner world, we begin to understand that a
retreat into personal history is a survival strategy,
not mental illness. Then we are better prepared to
listen with empathy rather than frustration when they
step away from reality.
This is validation therapy—a tested method that can be
used by both professionals and family members. I
developed the therapy in 1963 when, as a social worker,
I became frustrated with traditional, reality-oriented
approaches to dealing with confused elders age 80 and
older. Since then, it’s become state of the art and has
been embraced by more than three thousand agencies
nationwide. For many decades, validation therapy has
helped the very old restore the past, relive good times,
and resolve past conflicts. In doing so, it has reduced
their stress, enhanced their dignity, and increased
their happiness and sense of well-being.
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