Caregiver Corner
By Jennifer Beach
One of the most challenging situations many families face is not only watching their loved one struggle with change and loss as they age but their refusal of help or support. For example, when Mr. Smith had ongoing changes in his hearing, mobility and falling, his daughter and son had solutions or supports which seemed relatively simple and straightforward: Let’s get dad set up with hearing aids and a walker, install grab bars in his bathroom and order him an emergency call response system. These simple aids will surely reduce his risk of falling.
Two days after the grab bars were installed, dad fell in the bathroom. The walker was where it had been for the past two months, behind the chair in the living room. The call pendant sat on the kitchen counter, next to the phone. Mr. Smith’s family was naturally upset about the fall, even though he didn’t get seriously injured (this time).
The family again talked with their dad about how using these tools will help protect him from falling in the future. Dad listened and agreed, so they would leave him alone, but they all knew he was stubborn and likely wouldn’t change.
Two weeks later, Mr. Smith fell and this time, broke his hip and wrist. When asked if he used the grab bars to reach into the shower when he fell turning on the water, he answered no. His family and doctor asked why he didn’t use the grab bars, and he responded, “Because I’m not an invalid!!”
Many families have loved ones who are like Mr. Smith. They refuse any kind of assistance or support. Everything seems to be a battle when families are just trying to protect their loved ones. Mr. Smith and those similar are often referred to as the Proud Lone Wolf. Proud Lone Wolves are not afraid or fearful of falling or what would happen if they couldn’t call for help. Rather, they are afraid of becoming someone they don’t recognize.
To them the assistive devices and call buttons don’t mean safety.
They mean:
• “I’m old.”
• “I’m weak.”
• “I’m done.”
Often, loved ones refuse walkers or canes and avoid grab bars, insisting, “My old towel rack works just fine.” They won’t press the alert button (or wear) to call for help.
What we see is them being stubborn, not listening, non-compliant, or whatever adjective we can think of for refusing help. What’s really happening is an identity fight.
The consequence is the Proud Lone Wolf would rather take risks alone than accept help.
They would rather furniture-walk instead of using a walker, reach for towel racks instead of grab bars, choose pride over backup, over change, over who they are, someone who has always taken care of themselves and their families.
What may be more helpful when caring for a Proud Lone Wolf is rethinking or reframing our approach: Stop leading with safety and shifting to capabilities. Meaning this walker doesn’t keep you from falling rather it allows you to walk father, gives you access back, helps you do more (not less).
Stop framing support as protection and start framing it as access.
Try:
• “This helps you get back to church.”
• “This means you can shower without someone hovering.”
• “This lets you keep your routines longer.”
The Proud Lone Wolf doesn’t refuse help because they’re difficult.
They refuse because every aid feels like proof they’ve already lost.
Respect their identity. Then offer the tool that gives it back.
