Code of ethics in age care?
can someone tell me what decisions you might have to take working with the elderly? how do you ensure the decision is acceptable in the organstion's philosophy and values?
Answers:
You might find this partly answers your question. A number of years ago the following poem was reportedly among the few possessions found in the locker of a psychiatric geriatric patient following her death at Prestwich Hospital, Manchester, England. Shortly after the discovery of the poem it was published in that hospital staff’s journal, ‘The Magpie’, and has been published in several other journals since then.
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WHAT DO YOU SEE?
What do you see nurse? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you look here at me.
A crabby old woman, and not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice “I do wish you’d try”.
Who seems not to notice the things that you do.
And forever is losing a stocking, a shoe.
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you are thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse – you are not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I rise at your bidding and eat at your will.
I’m a small child of 10, with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet.
A bride soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty my young sons now grown up have gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more babies play at my knee.
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look to the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all busy rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love I have known.
I’m an old woman now, and nature is cruel.
‘Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart.
There is now a cold stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys; I remember the pain,
And I’m loving and living life all over again.
I think of the years all too few – gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurse! Open and see
Not a crabby old woman,
Look closer- see me!
Easy to take money from throw-away old people. Good issue for a politian.
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