Posted in Fashion, Working with Elderly

Can You Tell a Man’s Age by the Height of his Trousers?

We love you, Harry-High-Pants!

My elderly neighbour, Ivy recently shared with me this gorgeous black&white of her hubby Robert wearing a dress-up costume his mother made for him when he was just a young lad.

Whilst not sure of the exact year, Ivy believes it to be sometime during the 1940’s “when The War was on and we had to make do with what we had”.

SEE HERE…….. (couldn’t you just DIE?)

You started it, Superman!

Adorable as it most definitely is, it’s hard not to miss the extremely elevated pair of buckled-up underpants that Superman, aka Robbie (aged 5), is sporting in the photo.

Gee, the poor kid had no chance!

It explains too, why the now 87-year old Rob clearly has no qualms with wearing his trousers as high as an elephant’s eye to this very day.  Undoubtedly, it’s what he grew up with, feels comfy in and it’s just how he (and Superman) were raised.

Which is fair enough when you consider the fashions of the time.  Their time.  Back in the day with all the big screen stars: Fred Astaire, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck & co – all swanning about, gushing masculinity (well, most of the time) and looking suave as all heck in their tall tweeds. So naturally, the trend for the common man about town, was to do likewise and don a stylish pair of pleated high-waisted pants just like their dapper Hollywood idols.

And always with a robustly purposeful belt.

To be fair, I’m not sure if Rob’s always worn his trou so alarmingly aloft or whether, since morphing into ‘retiree’ status, it’s been more out of necessity due to the changes in his body-shape.

Regardless, I can’t help but smile when I catch sight of him over the back fence, digging away obliviously in the vege patch with his oversized corduroys yanked up nice and snug.  There’s just something endearing… a special ‘grandfather’ appeal, that brings on warm family memories and makes you almost feeeel the love.

You know?

Who wouldn’t wanna look this fashionably fab?

Indeed, the ageing process (and the heartless science that supports it) has a lot to answer for.

We tick merrily along minding our own business and before you know it, TING….you’ve arrived unwittingly at the mature, sensible-shoed stage of life.  Then, before you can say “pass the lamingtons please”… our once lithe and limber waistlines have become noticeably thickened.

Or in some cases, they’ve disappeared completely eeek!

Because fat is harder to budge like it was in the slinky, middle-aged career-building years when there was a lot of rushing about to be had.  Subsequently, with slowed-down metabolism from too much sitting about making shopping lists and tut-tutting about the youth of today, an elder’s torso can evolve into what’s considered ‘portly’ or become barrel-like instead.

Some older blokes (much like our Robert), take on this new physical development fairly positively, thank goodness.  They’re just relieved to be able to meld their newly created fatty layer into a nice protruding paunch.  Then, if they’re any good, they’ll find it enables them to wrench trousers up over this new formation like a natural built-in hitching post, if you will.

Alternatively, you’ll find other elderly gents may opt to ignore this ‘battle of the bulge’ by tightly clasping their belts in from underneath,  allowing one’s belly to flop leisurely out over the top of the belt-line yet still in the vicinity of where they think their waist should, by golly, still be.

Either way, win-win?

Hitch ’em up, Charlie!

Furthermore, while we are busy increasing in age and much worldly wisdom, our bodies start to progressively dwindle in muscle mass as well.  Crikey, can it get any worse?

Meaning the once sexy and toned definition we all once aspired to (and strived like ninnies our entire lives for), begins to diminish. Add to that a lessening bone density, then watch in awe as we then begin shrinking in height, thanks to our body basically collapsing into itself.

Yes, you heard…. COLLAPSING.

Throw in the nicely rounded butt that’s served a chap all his years, literally upping and disappearing almost overnight.  For goodness sake, it’s basically just a complete anatomical reversal of the changes that happened during puberty that turned us into adults in the first place!

But wait… THERE’S MORE!

Eventually, after a lifetime of all this standing about looking fabulous and ‘being a man’ (and when he’s finally admitted defeat and accepted this appalling entity of Retirement) a bloke’s spine now starts to buckle and bend until his body is baggy and saggy and then lo and behold, before he knows it…his bloody pant bottoms are now dragging on the ground.

WELL, BUGGER ME!

All that being said, and maybe because it happens so gradually, the changes in an older man’s stature can often go unrecognised.  Which means most of my male clients are happy as Larry continuing blithely on wearing the same trousers they’ve had, like, for-EVER.

Amusing though, are some of the excuses I hear from these denying Larries:

“Well, Dollie, I’ve worn these slacks since that Armstrong lad walked on the moon and never had any bother with them”

“Top quality pants these, not like the cheap foreign rubbish you get in the shops now”

“These trousers have lasted me 36 years as a copper on the beat, so why would I go changing them now?”

Besides, the focus now as it is for many adults of advanced years, is less on how they look in their clothes, than on more pertinent issues such as the managing of increasingly frequent health issues, the price of bread or more essentially… what the weather is doing tomorrow.

Can you can really judge a man’s age
by how far up his britches sit?

No!  Of course you can’t actually determine a man’s age based solely on how up-lifted he prefers to position his trousers!

Ageist, much?

Why, to do so would be the beginnings of a slippery discriminatory slope found insulting by older adults (the blokes in particular) – which thankfully nowadays, is considered quite unsavoury. However, for those of you playing along at home, it’s certainly easy to spot the more senior boys when they do yank ’em up so excessively.  Out and about in the community, bustling along with great purpose and leaving no room for doubt that the higher the pant – the more important their mission.

Be it a morning stroll to buy the newspaper or heading off with wheeled trolley in tow for a lap of the shops, or maybe another load of library books.  It doesn’t matter the quest, just as long as his dungarees are tugged up securely and with as much altitude as practicable.

So, if you’re one of these elderly dudes with The Incredible Shrinking Body who’s looking to correct the state of his seemingly enlarged trousers in a fashionable, yet dignified manner – it seems you have limited options:

  • Revive an old trend and use suspenders to hold up your pants (eliminates that poofy, puckered effect of a tightly clenched belt)
  • Admit defeat and consider wearing a sarong-type garment to emphasise your cultural side. Or maybe fly free n easy in a Scottish kilt for that ‘European-and-I-canny-care’ look?
  • Give the modern-day track pant a whirl (built in elastic totally eliminates the belt dilemma)
  • Face facts and get your pants altered by a tailor (or a wife if you still have one)
  • Stop being a tight-fisted bastard and splash out on some new slacks that fit you properly!

Or, if none of these appeal and you couldn’t care less about where your waistline might have run off to… then hoist those sails high, my good fellow, and continue blissfully wearing your trustworthy gabardines of yesteryear.

Who gives a toot what these young whipper-snappers say, as they swagger about with bum-cracks hanging out of their low-slung designer denims?!  You go right ahead and jack your nipple-cinching pantaloons up to your armpits if you fancy… right where they so magnificently belong.

All I know is, when I arrive at a new client’s home and I’m greeted at the door by yet another stereotypically-attired senior with his shirt tucked firmly into his slacks (or sometimes a pair of no-nonsense walk-shorts on warmer days) hoisted above and beyond, almost to chest height… for some reason it just makes me want to be even nicer.

NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!!!

Modern-day Superman 
Riding a lot lower (phew!)

HAPPY CARING!

Cheers, Dollie
Posted in Working with Elderly

RADIO: Helping the Elderly ‘Stay Tuned’ since 1947

“Oh, why won’t my wayward wireless stop whistling?”

But it’s making a funny noise, Dollie

Really, it’s of little surprise that most of the older adults I visit in their homes, enjoy listening to their radios. 

More specifically, those with deteriorating vision or being that they might be frail or unwell (with mobility often compromised), they can find themselves in their late Golden Years, no longer able to indulge in traditional media entertainment pleasures the rest of us hipsters take for granted.  

Vices such as watching television, reading a good book or wallowing for half a day with toast & coffee over the Sunday paper is simply no longer an option.  

Popping on the ‘wireless’ therefore makes perfect sense!

Not that they are missing much, surely? It seems telly these days is unrelenting with it’s bombardment of rubbish ‘reality’ shows targeted solely towards the younger more impressionable audience, thereby leaving bewildered seniors unable to relate and feeling overwhelmed at such bad taste and a definite absence of depth. 

(Big Brother, The Bachelor/Bachelorette, Love Island and that heinous ‘House Wives’ series spring to mind here)

Instead, having a nice string of yesteryear tunes crooning away on the radiogram in the front room, works beautifully to lift sullen moods and put some zing into a lonely or sometimes socially isolated pensioner’s day.  Memories of happy, more sprightly-er times are jogged by meaningful classics, as well as offering the much needed ‘company’ my clients might now be lacking.

“Hearing Vera Lynn always reminds me of my Edith and the times we used to sit in the back of the truck on our way to the dance at the town hall. Drinking home-made cider we’d nicked from my dad’s basement… we felt sooo naughty”

“…but that’s naughty in a good way, Dollie!”

Dame Vera Lynn 2019
Still a star… and still sporting a nice bit of red lippy
.

Talkback radio too, is ideal for supporting a forlorn or neglected senior through long periods of solitude and that despairing, yet understandable need for human interaction. They get to stay fully up to speed with the latest news and current affairs of the nation (usually in the middle of the night when they can’t sleep) plus share opinions and views with like-minded people of the same ilk.

“And, it’s great fun arguing the next day with Mavis and Lettie about the previous night’s topics.  Really gets the blood churning on a good day!”

Similarly, for some of my older gents who adore (and can’t live without) their daily infusion of Sport.  Sadly though, thanks to ‘old people’ medical conditions and the sheer exhaustion of it all, many have had to give up attending actual LIVE football games or cricket matches.  

To quote dear old 97-year old Bert with his ‘gammy leg and both me dicky knees’:

“The logistics alone would just about kill me, Dollie!”

Instead, he attaches himself to his little black transistor (circa 1972) via a pair of well-used nicotine-stained earplugs and lies back in his armchair to bellow at “that frigging umpire” until he nods off with the excitement of it all.

I have to say now (in a big loud voice), earplugs or headphones are a superbly handy device for a lot of the hearing-impaired elders I come across.  Needless to say, they’re also a godsend for the spouse (or the poor battered budgerigar) who otherwise gets stuck tolerating the din!

“Jeee-zuz, Ref…my wife’s gotten pregnant from less contact than that!”

If I turn that dial THIS way… then twist this knob THAT way….
Do you copy
?

OVER.

However… as marvellous and New-Age as all that is, I have other dear clients whom I help in their home, who can’t manage their broadcast transmissions to save themselves! 

And it doesn’t matter how ludicrously large the knobs on their radios are, or how basic the design or how seemingly straightforward the technology is to operate… THEY WILL STILL FIND A WAY TO STUFF UP THE SETTINGS!

Today for example, I arrived at 87-year old Bill Whistley’s home and as I walked up the path, I was hit with that adorable Guns & Roses melody ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ booming off the richter scale and making the crockery in Bill’s glass cabinet rattle.

“Blimmen ‘eck, I’ve tried fiddling with it, Dollie… but since I started my new pills, I’ve lost the feeling in my hands a bit. Can’t seem to land it on anything except THAT goddam racket.”

And in all the fluster, poor ol’ Bill decided to deal with the ear-splitting screams of Axel Rose the only way he knew how – by shutting all the doors and stowing himself away in his spare room.  It never occurred to him to just switch his radio off at the wall!  

“Oh, thank Heavens… you’ve ended the wickedness, Dollie!”

Yet Bill is not alone with his terror of the airwaves!  I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve walked into my client’s homes (I give up knocking as there’s literally NO CHANCE they can hear me) to find a brilliant selection of Hard Rock or Heavy Metal booming from within.  

Dollie to the rescue – check out some of these rippers!

**************************

“My house is so quiet during the daytime… it’s just nice to have something break the silence.  Mind you, be good if it were something I could whistle to”

(You mean you CAN’T whistle to Spiderbaits’ toe-tapping version of ‘Black Betty’?)

Oh the damn thing has a mind of its own. I set it on a nice bit of Sinatra but the next day it’s somehow flicked itself over and I’m left with that lot screeching at me!”

(Alice Cooper, anyone?)

Oh is it, Dollie? I hadn’t noticed… I thought I was listening to Roger Whittaker!”

(‘Eye of the Tiger’… good for what ails ya)

My son will be here later, I thought I’d leave it for him to sort out. Didn’t want to meddle in case I broke something. Plus it means I get to see him more often”

(Led Zeppelin at brekky time for a ‘Whole Lotta Love’)

“To be honest, Dollie… I’m deaf as a post so ANY noise is good”

(Just static was ‘playing’ in this lovely lady’s living room – LOUDLY)

What’s FM then? I thought it said ‘AM’ and ‘PM’. So I’ve been switching the dial once I’ve had my lunch, over to the ‘PM’ for the afternoon session. Wondered why the tunes suddenly got a bit rowdy!”

(Let’s just hope he doesn’t actually end up “Burning Down the House’)

It’s been begging for a fight all morning… I’d turn the dam contraption off if I knew how!”

(Yes, ‘Sexual Healing’ – always good for a bit of rough’n’tumble)

Bloody things been making that racket since I dropped it down the back of the bed/in the sink/onto the cat…”

(who DIDN’T get their kids to sleep with that lovely ‘Smoke on the Water’ lullaby?)

Death Metal, anyone?
(yes, that is a thing)

Let’s face it, as some smarty-pants from somewhere once said:  

“RADIO:  It’s like TV, only the pictures are better”.

Which is all very well and good – but it doesn’t really explain why I seem to be forever adjusting my clients’ knobs (ya godda love ’em!)


HAPPY CARING!

Cheers, Dollie
Posted in Aged Care, Working with Elderly

The Lighter Side of Working in Aged Care

“It’s all fun and games… until someone loses their bladder!”

Laughing and Leaking
– both easier to do the older we get

I’ve noticed lately that a lot of jobs advertised in the Aged-Care sector are now listing ‘sense of humour’ as one of the more desirable personal characteristics required from potential applicants.

Right up there alongside the usual skill-set buzzwords: compassion, empathy… yadda yadda… time-management, communication, etc etc etc it seems that a lot of Care providers are now recognising the merit to be gained in employing Support Workers who are capable of seeing the lighter side of their roles.

Not that we ‘funny-bunnies’ don’t consider our work with older adults as meaningful or important. Ahhh no, quite the opposite.  In fact, more is the case where those who CAN have a laugh (and don’t feel they have to take everything so seriously all the time), end up with far greater job satisfaction as a consequence of receiving such fabulous positive feedback from their much-amused clients!  

Because there’s little doubt how beneficial humour can be when meeting an elderly client – especially for that harrowing first time.  Not meaning you need to perform party tricks or stand on your head and act the clown. More just in understanding your client; seizing those unexpected instances as they occur and utilising them to develop a good happy, healthy relationship.

You know… tell them the silly story about your wheelbarrow at home with the dicky wheel or how your new kitten got into your knitting bag and found itself tangled in a ball of red yarn under the sofa – and then let them share similar humorous anecdotes with you.

We all know that there’s nothing like a good ol’ laugh to improve overall wellbeing, to strengthen friendships or just to promote a jolly good mood.

Are we having fun yet?

So, as a care-worker in your client’s home, merely being observant and discovering what interests your client has, understanding what makes them tick… can make it a heck of a lot easier for you to change tactics if required, and direct your game plan accordingly.

As a coping strategy, too, an intuitive carer should also understand the benefits of how a funny story, or a witty one-liner can be tactfully used to distract an ageing adult who is clearly agitated that you have arrived at their home in the first place. They’ve decided in advance that they won’t like you and therefore will be totally resistant to your charms. No matter what!

“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP, MISSY!”

In my experience, discretely changing the subject, injecting a fresh but genuine perspective into the conversation can diffuse most potential challenging behaviour before it gets a chance to gather momentum.

Just by sharing a refreshingly waggish viewpoint in a senior’s often mundane existence can be enough to crack even the hardest of old nuts (yes, a lukewarm smile still counts).  Achieve this and you’ll gain trust and win them over before they’ve had a chance to realise how much they actually DO like you after all.

The awkwardness of nudity at shower time is always a good test of a carer’s inter-personal communication skills. But be brave, just chat away and show how you thoroughly enjoy the company of your new NAKED client, ever so much!

In fact, I’m often surprised, how even the most insignificant occurrence or absurdity, can turn a stilted situation into a side-splitting laugh feast in an instant!

Take my new client from yesterday morning: a frail and reluctant 91-year old Gladys Liverspot. Obviously already annoyed and feeling quite indignant that “my-regular-girl-Angie” was not available to help her shower – she’d been informed by the office that she was stuck with me instead.

Oh, I’d attempted to initialise conversation for sure. I was bubbly… yet professional. I showed genuine interest in the brand new kitchen cupboards she’d just had installed. Plus, I’d admired the heck out of her grandson’s never-ending pile of wedding photos.

But as we progressed through her showering routine I got nothing back from Gladys.  Instead, she seemed damned determined to remain cool and aloof.

That is, until it came time to wash her ‘lady bits’ and, as I do, I asked Gladys if she wanted help with that.

“Oh, you mean my Fanny-by-Gaslight!” 

Well, that was it!  Such a random unexpected thing to hear a little old lady say – I cracked up big time.

And blow me down… Gladys clearly LOVED me for it!  In fact, she joined in too!

Seemingly, my hysterical response to her quirky turn of phrase was just the reaction Gladys needed to accept me into her world.  It showed her that I understood her; that I was on her wave-length. I was someone who could appreciate her inanely dated comment and therefore I was worthy to be part of her day.

Before I left (and still giggling like schoolgirls), I was rewarded with a nice cuppa and the ginger crunch slice that Gladys usually reserved for her special visitors.

So there! Take that, “My-regular-girl-Angie”...!!!

Sometimes I laugh so hard
– the tears run down my leg !!!

Ironically too, there are days where laughing at yourself can be all that keeps you sane.  Nothing like putting your foot in it with a slip of the ol’ verbal faux-pas; those unintentional moments when you haven’t thunk before you’ve opened your gob. 

Here’s a couple of my finest:

Offering left-arm amputee Sheila Greensleeves to help wipe down her bench top… “Can I give you a hand with that?”

Or saying “Gee that IS a big one!” …  the exact same moment Terry Wang drops his tweeds at shower time (I was actually referring to the giant mutant cactus plant towering outside his bathroom window, truly I was)

And just out of habit, to my new and totally bald-headed client, Jim Wiggington… Are we washing your hair today, Sir?”

As soon as I pop these humdingers out – I kick myself.  But at the same time, it shows I’m only human and, as unbelievable as it may seem, I make mistakes too.  Thankfully, all my clients (thus far) have forgiven me whenever I’ve let slip and more often than not, we end up having a bit of a cackle about it as well.

It’s all in the way you handle the situation and anyway, they know it was not intended.  I’m just happy that my dear clients can relax enough and feel at ease around me to have a laugh in the first place.

“Oh Dollie, you are a ONE”, they say.

And I guess I am.

Reciprocally, I love those unexpected humorous one-offs that my clients can spring on me, too!

Incidental quips they throw in along the way like an off-the-wall remark that takes you by surprise and makes you realise that being old, doesn’t necessarily mean you are any less witty than the rest of the wacky world.

And you are most certainly not laughing AT your clients; you are laughing either with them or it’s just the situation at the time when something comical has occurred.

Like the time I was applying skin lotion to the legs of a very fragile and diminutive, Mr Eddie Shuffleboard.

Sitting patiently on the edge of his bed one morning, I squatted in front of Eddie, fiddling about with the pair of most unyielding compression stockings versus his clammy freshly-moisturised skin (the bloody things never want to play nice).  After several minutes battling away, huffing and puffing all the way, I finally managed to wrench the stockings into position on Eddie’s legs.

VICTORY SHALL BE MINE !!

From the sheer exhaustion of it all, I then went to plonk myself on the bed beside him. As I landed on what had to be the world’s most ultra-springiest single mattress, like a stunt gone wrong out of Cirque du Soleil… up poor old Eddie went BOINGGGG!  Catapulted straight into the air he ended up falling squarely onto my knee in a position similar to a toddler sitting on his mother’s lap.

Then, without missing a beat, Eddie announces with the cheekiest smile on his face:

We really have to stop meeting like this, Dollie!” 

Surely one of the most hilarious (and perfectly timed) moments I’ve experienced on the job and after chuckling our way through the rest of the shift, it was locked in that Eddie and I were to be bestest of buddies from then on.

So, don’t feel guilty about enjoying the funny side of your client’s antics or worry that you’re being disrespectful or insensitive to their needs…OH MY GOD, YOU DON’T CARRRRRE!

Because of course you do.

Will we laugh about it later?

And don’t forget, encouraging laughter during a tense or delicate moment can actually offer relief to a fraught pensioner who may find solace in seeing you appear so calm and unflappable.

Embarrassing little interludes too, can have the edge sliced off them with a nifty bit of light relief.

Like the time I went to assist the delightful 94-year old Reggie Windbottom out of his armchair, just as he let rip an extremely loud FART that startled us both and made his trusty Border Collie leap up onto the couch.

“Outside, Wally!” Reg and I both bellowed at the same time. (If in doubt, blame the dog).

Oh my, how we laughed!

But most of all, and because it reminds me a lot of my own grandfather and the funny stories he used to tell us growing up… I love it how some of my elderly gents (hardly ever the ladies it seems) have a wide-ranging repertoire of good old-fashioned punchlines that they love to rattle off whenever you visit.

For example, here’s a couple of pearlers from 92-year old Dermot O’Farrell, one of my favourite yarn-spinners.  Of course, his Irish accent makes them that much funnier – even better when he has his teeth in!

Did you hear about Bruce who lost his whole left side? He’s all RIGHT now.

What do you call a fly with no wings? A walk.

What time did Bob go to the dentist? Tooth hurt-y.

A mushroom walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender tells him to get out.  The mushroom says, “But why… I’m a fun-guy?!”

A blind man walks into a bar….and a table… and a chair… and a door… and and and…

To conclude folks, laughter may not be the best (and only) medicine your elderly client has to take, but if you can lift spirits by slipping a bit of jocularity into their day, it’s a grand way to start.

As the irrepressible Dermot so eloquently likes to put it: “If you can’t have a good laugh at yourself – then you’re just a miserable old sod!”

HAPPY CARING!

Cheers,
Dollie
Posted in Aged Care, Working with Elderly

When Old People Help Young People

Can I Return Your Trolley For you, Dear?

As a rule, there’s not much in the way of kindness on offer in busy shopping centre carparks – especially from strangers undergoing the same tiresome routine as you.

Well today turned out to be my lucky-ducky-day!

Having pushed a full trolley out to my car after doing battle in the supermarket (hate hate hate) for the weekly family food shop, I was puffing a bit and probably looked as hot and bothered as I felt.

Dollie with a trollie!

As I unloaded the grocery bags into the boot, I remembered a couple of essentials I’d forgotten to buy (why didn’t I make a goddam list?) so my head was miles away when an older man with lush white beard and dainty gold spectacles appeared beside me asking if he could perhaps give me a hand?

Gesturing towards my now empty cart he smiled and said in a most gentlemanly voice, “Can I return that for you, dear?”

My initial reaction was to decline politely this neatly-dressed chap’s offer.  For heaven’s sake, I was the carer who looked after elderly people – it should be ME offering to help HIM!

And he was certainly no spring chicken.  Although still quite sprightly, his light-weight frame and obvious hip issue made him look far too frail to be flinging other people’s trolleys about.

Not only that, but I had to go back into the shopping centre anyway, which meant walking directly past the Trolley Return bay.  How easy-peasy was it for me to whip my own cart (with it’s annoying dicky wheel) into the loading bay as I dashed by?

However, something in this earnest Senior’s eyes made me zip my lip and realise that this was, in fact, not about me.

Shopping Besties
– Dollie & Ray

Turns out that Ray (yes, we got chatting) was having his 90th birthday next week and he was really looking forward to the afternoon High Tea his family and friends (“the ones that haven’t dropped off, yet!”) were throwing in his honour.  He told me how he had never felt so good – perhaps he might even have a sherry or two on the BIG DAY!

“Gee whiz, I’m excited to be alive, Dollie!”

Ray then went on to explain how having something to look forward to and feel special about, had made such a difference to his life.  Especially after losing his wife Anne last year ‘to the Cancer’ had left him feeling lonely, depressed and quite lost.

Indeed, I recognised there was far more significance in allowing lovely, high-spirited Ray assist with my silly old supermarket trolley than there was in me trying to save time and supposed unnecessary fuss.

And it wasn’t because he just happened to be passing; nor because he thought I actually really needed the help.

It was because he could.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RAY!!!

Cheers,
Dollie
Supermarket Sillies