Solutions Through Compassionate Communication.
Usually I toss my copy of the annual Medicare and You Handbook into my ‘read file.’ But with our book coming out in January (see below), I carefully reviewed this year’s issue. Its 122 pages are chock-full of information on coverage like chronic care management services (p.34) and yearly wellness visits (p.49). But the following three items, I believe, merit special attention.
When my friend Bill’s mother’s primary care physician informed her that she would need round-the-clock support (because of one unexplained blackout), it was a shocker to her and her family.
What to do? Bill and his brother lived far enough away that they couldn’t provide their mom the required level of personal care. And their Mom was determined to remain in her hometown.
So, they checked out a few assisted living residences, and in an all-too-brief period decided on one. It had a good enough reputation and wasn’t far from her apartment. So, she moved in… and was pretty miserable for her remaining years. Given her temperament, she might have been unhappy no matter where she lived. But I can’t help wondering whether the residence where Bill’s mom moved was the main cause of her upset.
A man I’ll call George hired my friend, a social worker, to visit his “Uncle Milt.” George hoped my friend would persuade Milt, 96, to move from the home he loved on the East Coast to a nursing home in Nebraska near George. Uncle Milt, however, was firmly planted and said so loud and clear.
The social worker found Milt alert and engaging. She gave him a “mini-mental” test that showed minor memory loss but no dementia. Milt’s two long-time health-care aides were present. They kept him clean and well-fed and took him on outings. A neighbor looked in on Milt every evening. Clearly they all shared a deep affection for Milt. He seemed happy.
My friend informed George that Milt could safely remain in his home and recommended he be allowed to do so.
Most of the time when I am confronted by another person’s emotions, I mirror back their behavior. If someone’s angry with me, I tend to respond in kind. If someone’s pleasant, I’ll react similarly. If we find ourselves in a frightening situation, we often become scared. And so on. This is called ‘complementary behavior.’ Another name is ‘feedback loop.’
But what if we ‘flip the script?’ What happens when we confront anger with empathy or kindness? A 2016 NPR episode of Invisibilia recounted how a group of friends who were dining together were suddenly confronted by someone threatening to rob them at gunpoint. One of the group invited the would-be thief to join them with a glass of wine. In time the thief put away his gun, asked for a group hug, apologized, and departed without incident.
Changing roles is an inescapable byproduct of time. From your baby’s first step, to his first day at school — from the day she gets her driver’s license until her college dorm is in your rear view mirror — your role is changing. And your relationship evolves from all-knowing protector and teacher to “out to lunch” parent of a teen, to bankroller with a good idea once in a while, surprising your nearly grown college freshman.
Then, for several decades, the parent-child relationship becomes adult-adult. This period can be very pleasant. Like good friends, you help each other in a pinch, but live your own lives and make your own decisions.
Role reversal begins when the child assumes control of some aspect of a parent’s life. It may begin at the parent’s request and be relatively minor, such as taking care of Dad’s car maintenance, or driving Mom to medical appointments, doing income taxes or balancing checkbooks. This control shift is limited and non-intrusive. Inconvenience to the child is minimal and the parent is grateful. [Read more…]
[My last post reflected on my training in Reintegration Support Circles. This post continues to track my experience, especially in role-plays where we practiced how to conduct a Reintegration Support Circle with a returning citizen, his or her family members, and perhaps a clergy person or a community member.]
iStock.com/AlexMax
After reaching consensus on Guidelines, a Keeper asked us to write on 3 x 5 cards a Value that we wanted to bring to the Circle and explain why the value is important to us. According to author Kay Pranis*, values “help people remember who they want to be in their best selves before they want to work together.”* I wrote “generosity.” Others wrote honesty, compassion, commitment, and authenticity. And so on.
The process deepened my engagement. I knew I was on to something very special and different from my experience mediating.
Next came Story Telling: Beginning with the Keeper, participants shared stories about a life experience. Examples ranged from what it was like to return home after a long absence to a how we felt when someone gave us unexpected but needed support.
Imagine how this process was intensifying: From identifying ourselves and sharing our feelings about taking part in the circle, to our relationship with the RC, to suggesting guidelines and sharing values, to telling a personal story, I felt an ever deeper connection with those in my circle. (And this was only a role-play!)
iStock.com/AlexMax
Since my January 4th blog “Surmounting Tough Conversations After Incarceration,” I took a 30-hour training in Reintegration Support Circles. Support Circles are a means to resolve issues without shame or blame or winners or losers. Reintegration Support Circles seek, among other things, to re-unite Returning Citizens (RCs)* with family members, friends, clergy, social workers, and maybe other supportive members of the RC’s community (usually 6 or 7 persons) in a structured and circular setting. The aim is to generate a shared, positive vision for a Returning Citizen.
Circles are one of many processes associated with Restorative Justice, a conflict resolution process, philosophy, and set of practices, that is fast finding its way into schools, juvenile justice systems, and even adult criminal proceedings. Circles have their source among the ways of Indigenous peoples in North America, New Zealand, South Pacific, Africa, Alaska, and elsewhere.
Revealing that I’m eighty-years-old makes this one of the toughest blogs I’ve written. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Just as one’s sexual identity or race or economic status shouldn’t evoke raised eyebrows or muffled comments, neither should one’s age.
For years I dreaded mentioning my age. If someone found out, I’d hear one of those inevitable comments: “I had no idea. I thought you were 65 or 70.” Or, “I hope I look like you when I’m your age.” Or, “You look REMARKABLE (hate that word) for your age.” So-called compliments may sound positive, but they’re negative because they betray an ageist stereotype in the speaker’s mind.
When my father was 93, riddled with cancer, chronically nauseated, and living on opioids he suffered a major heart attack. In the hospital, doctors determined his death was imminent but didn’t tell him. Dad denied his condition was serious. He was furious to be given a room on the heart ward instead of the ICU.
Dad had signed a DNR (do not resuscitate) and disclaimed extraordinary measures. But he changed his mind when push came to shove. He raged for two days until, at my request, a female resident physician sat beside Dad’s bed and gently told him the truth. Then he agreed to accept palliative (comfort) care. He needed to hear his time was short and he could control how it was spent.
Palliative care (with or without Hospice) can be received in a hospital, a nursing home, or the patient’s own home. Medical interventions are out; comfort and pain relief are in. Surprisingly, comfort care often extends the patient’s life beyond expectations, perhaps because it allows him to set his own priorities as the end approaches. He might continue to attend church, meet a new grandchild, participate in a daughter’s wedding, or celebrate a family holiday. [Read more…]
On February 21, President Donald Trump met with teenage survivors of the Valentine’s Day massacre at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. The shooter with an assault rifle had murdered 17 students and teachers. The group included parents of victims of this and other school massacres.
Trump said he was there to listen.
The delegation had come to talk about the death of their children and schoolmates at the hands of a disturbed young man on the other end of an assault rifle. Trump is a strong supporter of the right to carry guns, so I imagine this could not have been easy for him. Compassion is not his comfort zone; neither is vulnerability. But he allowed the meeting to be filmed, not knowing what his visitors would say. He was willing – and prepared – to listen to some hard messages from people who were suffering.