Why don’t people care about the aged?

I get very tired of people.  People who are so inward turned that nothing penetrates their safe warm little havens of… self.  It’s like the aged are a parasite stuck on the back of society sucking it dry.  Just put them into care and forget about them.  Let the so called system deal with them.

I have spent a number of hours over the last couple of days composing letters to our state and federal members of parliament, organisations and newspapers in the hopes of drumming up some interest in increasing the availability of Home Care Packages for our area.  At the present time, there is a six (6) month waiting list for people to access high level (level 4) care.  This care is for people with high level care needs.  In my way of thinking, I don’t think these people can afford to wait, especially not for six (6) months.  These people will be going into permanent care if they don’t get the assistance they need.  This is contrary to what the government wants…

In conversation with a nurse today she told me that many aged people are confused about the Home Care Package system.  She believes there are people ending up in hospital and in nursing homes because of the lack of access to Home Care Packages and being confused as to what kind of help they can access. She believes the system is wrong.

I’m just one person.  One person that’s trying to make a difference (excuse the syrup).  I was hoping by this blog that there would be other people out there like myself who needed advice in caring for their loved one, who were challenged by the system and wanted to share their experiences in dealing with the same ‘stuff’ (wish I could insert a colourful metaphor here).  Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe there isn’t anybody else out there that cares.  Ok, self-reflection and pity out of the way – I will keep fighting because there’s no other choice.

I took Ma out this morning.  She was back to being ‘Ma’.  We had a great morning shopping and having coffee and donuts.  There was no sign of any hallucinations or confusion, it was just my Ma.  Around 3pm she started to check back into the dark side.  She wouldn’t sit in her bedroom because she feared she didn’t belong and somebody was coming home very soon to ‘turf’ her out.  She didn’t want me to swear (sorry, I did mention the colourful metaphors) because the ‘little girl’ would hear me.  Where had my Ma gone?  This morning she was confident and finding her own room talking about her clothes and house.  This afternoon, it’s not her house, not her room, where is her bed? and she doesn’t belong.  It’s a roller coaster… and I was never much good with roller coasters…

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