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January 21, 2005
Chapter 5 of David Solie's
book "How to Say It to
Seniors" looks at five
verbal behaviors, quite
common in older people, that
may sound like mental
decline, but quite possibly
reveal something else. With
his permission, we reproduce
here a second set of
excerpts that deals with the
last three of these
behaviors.
Robert Griffith, Editor.
Repetition
("Why do they always tell
that same boring story?")
 We may have heard Grandma's
story about the night she
met Grandpa close to 100
times, and think she's
becoming senile. Yet there
may be a reason for the
repetition that has nothing
to do with mental decline:
There's something in that
incident, like the patterns
discovered in nonlinear
conversations, that recalls
a moment of exceptional
value in her life. She is
repeating that story as part
of her life review process.
Our job is to listen in ways
that help her discover what
it is about that encounter
that needs to become part of
her legacy.
I cringe every time I think
of my own experience with my
dear old Uncle Albert when I
was at the height of my
adolescent-arrogant phase.
It illustrates many of the
ways that we react to old
people and they react to us.
We've all been teenagers, so
we have experienced that
time in life when we think
we're hot stuff but are in
fact pathetically
insufferable. I was like
this for weeks when I was
about 15 years old, so much
so that my family
contemplated shipping me out
of state until I came to my
senses. This phase
culminated one day at my
grandmother's house when my
uncle began to tell the same
story he'd been repeating
for years in what I thought
at the time was
excruciatingly boring
detail.
So on this day at the height
of my adolescent horridness,
I interrupted Uncle Albert
just as he began telling his
story and proceeded to
finish it for him, in rapid
summary, in front of the
entire family. If that
weren't enough and oblivious
to the reaction of my other
relatives, I then faced him
and said, "Uncle Albert, why
do you always tell that same
boring story?" And my Uncle
Albert - an incredibly
sweet, angelic man - looked
at me and said simply, "It's
a good story." It took me 30
years to figure out what he
was really saying.
Albert didn't repeat that
story because he was old or
demented or mentally
deficient. He repeated it
because telling that story
allowed him to revisit
events in his life that
possessed exceptional value
- and are in large part what
made him who he thought
himself to be: a man who
values work, loyalty,
family, and love.
Repetition is not an inward
drift to the past coupled
with less interest in or
disengagement from the
present. It is part of the
great sorting process
necessary for life review.
If nonlinear communication
focuses on people and events
that carry exceptional
value, repetition gives
those values deeper
definition.
Example: You also have an
"Uncle Albert" who repeats
family stories and you don't
know how to respond. Think
back to your childhood and
the stories you heard from
him and other family
members. Focus on one story
and try to recall the first
time you heard it. Remember
as much detail as you can
about that story. Then,
identify the main theme(s)
of the story.
Questions: Was this story a
turning point in your loved
one's life? A celebration of
love or friendship? An
inevitable tragedy? The
closing of one of life's
chapters? What values were
championed, admired, or
represented by the story?
Are these the values you
associate with the
storyteller today? If that
person has passed on, would
you say these values are
part of his or her legacy?
If so, in what way are these
values expressed? Through
the younger generation?
Through writings? Through
the person's religious
association? How do you
incorporate those values in
your own life?
Possible Answers: The next
time you hear an elderly
person repeat a story,
highlight the story's values
by asking for clarification
or offering a personal
anecdote of your own that
expresses those values.
How to say it:
"Your story always makes me
wish my life were less
hectic. What do you think
I'm missing today that was
so important then?"
Or:
"I know what you mean by the
rush of technology. The new
hires in my office know how
to operate the latest
gadgets before the IS
department issues
instructions."
These kind of responses will
help the storyteller clarify
his reasons for the
repetition and quite
possibly lead to an epiphany
regarding legacy.
Attention to Details
("Why do they fret so much
about something so
trivial?")
 My relationship with my
mother began to improve
after my father's death
because I learned how to
signal her that I was truly
available to listen. I had
learned at long last that my
most important job from her
point of view was to listen
and help her figure out the
important themes and events
in her life. I wasn't
listening so much for
content as I was for
patterns. When I signaled I
was focused and up to the
task, I heard about my
mother's life in a way I
never had before.
I knew that my Aunt Myrtle
had drowned when she was
nineteen and my mom was ten,
and that it was a
significant event not much
talked about in the family.
But never had Mom told me
this story the way she did
that afternoon. As I
listened to all the details,
she revealed that moment in
her life when time stood
still.
She went on to paint a
picture and fill it with
people - what they said,
what they wore, how they
reacted - that meant the
most to her. I can tell you
how Myrtle's hair was cut,
what her boyfriend looked
like, the color of the
T-shirt he wore, the model
of car he drove, her
friends, my
great-grandmother's kitchen.
I can tell you every nuance
of that young lady's life
the last time my mother saw
her. This was not a story
about how life always works
out. This is a story about
how it sometimes betrays us.
But even the betrayals
reflect what she values:
loyalty, family, connection.
In this instance, life
didn't provide any of that.
Instead of trying to rush
the details, we might ask
why these details are so
intense. And the answer is,
at the end of life, seniors
rev up the landscape in an
attempt to determine what's
most important. Through this
process they are saying, I
remember these details; they
are a part of who I am.
When we hear lots of details
in repeated stories, we note
that the storyteller's
version may not be exactly
correct, the way we remember
the incident, or the way the
person related an earlier
version of the same story.
So we may find ourselves
commenting that this older
person's memory is slipping,
or isn't exactly correct as
we remember it. But correct
is not the deal here. They
are not scripting a
documentary. They're using
memory as a vehicle with
which to intensify a part of
their life that means a lot
to them. They're reaching
for a value. They're trying
to understand a person.
Attention to detail is one
way to get there.
Example: Your elderly Aunt
Thelma has been housebound
for years, but today insists
she needs a new pair of
shoes. She's been requesting
this same shoe roughly twice
a year for eons;
nevertheless she describes
exactly what she wants -
brand, style, size, and
color. On this occasion you
discover, to your dismay,
that the style has been
discontinued. You find
substitutes, but she rejects
every pair you bring for her
inspection. She won't even
try the merchandise on: She
knows by merely lifting the
shoe ("Too heavy!") out of
the box that your dozen
purchases must all be
returned.
Question: Although you love
her, this woman has never
been easy to deal with and
you know she won't let this
shoe issue go away. What's
the best way to handle this
situation?
Possible Answers: Although
she may not be able to
express it, your aunt
probably cares about
connection with you more
than she cares about the
shoes. Fussing about the
size, style, weight, and
price of a pair of shoes is
her way of controlling the
daily tasks of living she
was once able to perform for
herself. Beyond her need for
control, whether she
expresses it or not, is her
need for your attention in
whatever form she can get
it: shopping, discussing,
returning, then starting the
process all over again. Her
focus on shoes, though, may
provide a clue to opening up
a discussion much more
relevant to her end-of-life
tasks.
How to say it:
"Aunt Thelma, I'm curious.
How old were you when you
bought your first pair of
high heels?" Responding to
her interest in shoe details
may open a door she'll leap
through to focus on events
much closer to her heart.
Don't tune out the details;
probe them instead.
Uncoupling
("Was it something I said?")
Uncoupling is a nice term
that implies we didn't quite
hit the mark and therefore
the person with whom we're
trying to communicate has
disconnected from us,
usually for "inexplicable"
reasons. This communication
habit is particularly
frustrating for
professionals who work with
older people. Just when we
are so sure we are right on
course, we wind up being
dismissed or ignored.
Uncoupling is difficult
because at the heart of it
is rejection, something no
one wants to face.
A friend, Bob, told me a
story recently that
illustrates this point about
uncoupling. He and his
sister had been trying to
get their mother to move
into assisted living for
years. She seemed open to
the idea, but insisted she
wanted to remain in Chicago
even though both her
children lived far away and
hoped she'd choose to live
near either one of them. Bob
dutifully did his research
and came up with several
attractive options he
thought his mom would like,
but every time he presented
options, she refused to
discuss the matter. Thinking
he hadn't hit upon the right
situation for her, he did
more research and tried to
propose more choices, yet
whenever he aired the
subject, she shrugged him
off. He decided he needed to
change his approach, so he
one day asked an open-ended
question instead: "Mom, if
you could live anywhere,
where would that be?" She
hesitated (perhaps
indicating that life review
was underway), then uttered
an answer that astonished
him: "In Florida. Close to
your sister."
Both he and his sister had
suggested Florida many
times, but their mom never
considered it. He commented
to me that he felt angry at
her for all the time he'd
wasted, but he resisted an
initial impulse that would
have made her feel bad.
Instead, he asked why living
near her daughter was so
important.
"I want to be close to my
grandchildren." Why hadn't
she expressed that wish
months earlier? "Because I
don't want to be a burden."
When she understood that it
was more of a burden to both
children for her to live so
far away, she felt
comfortable with her
decision and graciously
accepted the help she needed
to make the move. Bob would
never have unearthed this
wish if he'd ignored the
message she was sending by
uncoupling. If he'd stayed
the course with his
well-researched plan, he
would never have asked the
question that led his mother
to the heartfelt answer.
The lesson here is that
legacy - in this case Bob's
mother's desire to be valued
as grandma and maintain
close family ties - is not
something the elderly can
always articulate, although
they keep trying.
Appreciating the items on
their agenda can save a lot
of time. When we approach
what's close to their heart,
when they begin to see their
path through the haze of
accumulated experience,
their entire demeanor
changes. Rather than
uncouple, they can make a
decision instantly.
Uncoupling requires a bit
more persistence on our
part, not to fulfill our
agendas but to facilitate
theirs. Wisdom, intuition,
persistence, and patience
are needed.
Example: There are two
subjects that pique your
curiosity, but about which
your father is reticent:
what he did during World War
II and what life was like
when he was a boy. Whenever
you broach these topics, he
dismisses you with
statements like "It's a
closed chapter. Let's not go
there," or "Why do you want
all this useless
information?"
Questions: Should you pursue
such discussions? If so,
what verbal cues or behavior
strategies can be used to
unlock the knowledge from
his vast memory stores?
Possible Answers: In
addition to the familiar
age-based agenda clashes,
there is a socio-cultural
difference at work here.
Your father's generation
went through difficult
years, yet always looked
forward to better times and
rarely looked back. From his
parent he was handed a big
"no whining" sticker at
birth and was programmed to
stand up to adversity and
press on.
Given these generational
differences, sometimes it's
best not to press for
information. Your elderly
relative will not forget
your request, but may need
time to gather thoughts
together.
Most elderly people will
eventually want to talk
about their parents'
generation and their own
childhoods, however.
Continue to offer open-ended
questions and be aware that,
in your next interaction,
the elderly person might
drop subtle conversational
clues that he or she is now
ready to discuss these
previously difficult
subjects.
How else to reconnect? Begin
with a self-revelation. Talk
about your earliest memory
and then ask the older
person about the same
subject. You'll learn a lot
and begin to mine layers of
experience that cloud the
ability to discover legacy.
Many times when there's
hesitancy to offer
information, the only way to
begin the conversation is to
offer some information about
yourself, then ask the
question to which you want
answers.
How to say it:
"Dad, I avoided military
service by staying in
school. Now my sons want to
enlist and we're at war.
What do you think I should
tell them?"
Or:
"Dad, I remember your Uncle
Joe from my childhood, but I
don't know where he fits on
our family tree. Would you
help me figure it out?"
Source
David Solie, MS, PA. How to
Say It to Seniors: Closing
the Communications Gap with
our Elders. (2004) Prentice
Hall Press, New York. This
article was published with
permission from
www.healthandage.com
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