My Career in Gerontology

My new blog friend, Maryellen has asked me to write about my career in Gerontology, working with older persons. To begin my “series” on what it’s like to work in the field of aging, I start with some excerpts from a paper I wrote in grad school back in 1981 “My Personal Philosophy of Aging”. Here’s what I had to say way back then.

I have always enjoyed being with older people. Somehow I was more comfortable with their ideas, morals, music and values than with those of my own turbulent cohort group. I felt secure in their unthreatening support, satisfied by their exuberant appreciation, comforted by their patient understanding.

These early images of the elderly were based on my relationships with my maternal and paternal grandparents. In childhood, I remember my grandmother’s unashamed physical demonstrations of genuine affection, spontaneous and with no strings attached. And my grandfather – he knew a million and one ways to delight us – from spinning yarns about giants to treating us to a candy surprise every night. Later, in my teens, it was my other grandmother who had the time to listen and understand when my mother did not. Yes, old age – to me – was always beautiful, wise and good.

As a teenager, I thought much about death but not at all about growing old. I have only recently faced the reality of my own aging – grays outnumber browns, sagging chin, sunken eyes. It was not a pretty sight. (Imagine how I feel now at age 66!) I began to doubt my pollyanna philosophy of aging. The negative aspects crept into the foreground: The dreaded diseases of old age – after 35, a pain here could mean heart attack; a pain there, arthritis – or worse! The losses of old age – finding that I had to hold the book farther away to see; asking someone to repeat what they said; running up the last few steps with leaden legs. Forgetting where I put things was no longer attributed to absentmindedness. I WAS GETTING OLD!

And as constant reminders, my children (now it’s my grandkids) were always there, growing into young adults, towering over me, bringing home questions that I could no longer answer, exploring the world out from under my wing.

I was annoyed with myself. Why should someone who revered and respected old age be so upset by her own aging? And it was with this realization, together with my education in gerontology and personal experiences, that I began to put together a more realistic philosophy of aging.

The experience of my own beloved grandfather’s retirement was what inspired me to choose gerontology as a profession. After retiring, he declined rapidly. One Sunday afternoon, we were sitting and chatting. Suddenly, he was talking about childhood friends as if they were right there with us. My worst fears were realized and it wasn’t long before he was wandering out into the night, losing control of his bodily functions, unable to recognize us. The diagnosis: arteriosclerosis of the brain. (Alzheimer’s had not leaped into the diagnostic spotlight as yet.) Finally, he had to be institutionalized. Visiting him in that cold, uncaring world centered all of my fears and hostilities about aging on their ultimate symbol – the institution. I carried this personal vendetta against institutionalization for many years in my work with the elderly until this attitude, too, was tempered by education and experience.

Now (in 1981) my grandmother is 89 years old. She suffers from organic brain syndrome (most likely Alzheimer’s) but she is not institutionalized. Instead my 63 year old mother cares for her at home. This has involved constant searches for untrained “baby-sitters” to care for my grandmother while my mother works. It involves paying these caregivers from an income that doesn’t qualify for Medicaid, but can’t afford quality services either. It involves answering my grandmother’s endless questions: “Where am I?” “When am I going home?” “Does my mother know I’m here?” over and over and over. It involves being awakened at 3 a.m., being unable to return sleep, and having to go to work the next morning. It involves getting seriously ill yourself. But my mother still will not consider a nursing home for my grandmother. Out of guilt? Memories of my grandfather’s institutionalization?

However, my philosophy has changed. I see now the need for SNF’s (skilled nursing facilities) and HRF’s (what today would be Assisted Living) and I am happy that my contact with nursing home professionals (in my classes), my field internship at Morningside House, my own study and research has helped me to come to a more informed grasp of this aspect of aging in our society. I am now working with my mother to enable her to make a wise and guilt-free decision about my grandmother.”

Back to 2008. It is amazing to me how much the above paper predicted the many varied challenges I would face in my future career: misunderstanding about the capabilities of older people; working with family caregivers; expanding benefits and support for the growing numbers of elderly; better training for home care workers; the changing nature of nursing homes, etc. etc. This is why the field of aging is never boring – there is so much still to be done. And the numbers of elders – “our” numbers are increasing. More to come!