How Not to Be a Victim: Remembering Jenny

By Georgia Anetzberger, PhD, ACSW

A friend of mine died last year. I’ll refer to her as “Jenny”.  Some of us might ask ourselves, “How was it that Jenny didn’t become a victim of elder abuse?”  By most accounts, she should have.  After all, towards the end of her life Jenny was the embodiment of many established elder abuse risk factors.  For self-neglect, these included frailty, functional limitations, living alone, and lack of a primary caregiver. For elder mistreatment, these included physical disability, impairment, or frailty along with advanced age.  Yet, Jenny managed to reside alone in her home of decades until age 89, when she elected to move into a hospice facility for her final weeks.  She was able to live life on her own terms, because Jenny also possessed protective factors from elder abuse, the most important of which are described below.

How was it that Jenny didn’t become a victim of elder abuse?”  By most accounts, she should have.

I witnessed Jenny’s decline in functional capacity over most of our thirty year relationship, from being physically fit (perhaps the fastest walker I’ve ever known) to wheelchair-bound (so slow in movement that it seemed to take “forever” for her to transfer from one seat to another), from being able to do everything for herself to being dependent on others for all daily living tasks, except eating.  Although Parkinson’s disease robbed Jenny of body strength and ability, fortunately it never affected her mind and mood.  She remained smart and upbeat, a problem-solver and engaged throughout the disease course, which leads me to an attempt toward answering the question beginning this blog.

Jenny possessed four qualities that helped her live at home alone, thrive despite disability, and remain abuse-free.  These protective factors served to deter institutionalization, promote social connectivity, and preserve safety and well-being.

First and foremost, Jenny had a strong informal network of social supports and a willingness to accept help when needed, either from that network or from trusted professional service providers.  Jenny loved being around people, and they loved being around her.  Indeed, there were no limits to that affection.  She corresponded with a woman serving life behind bars and gave shelter to a homeless person on disability benefits.  Her partner had died years before and her nearest relative resided a thousand miles away, but Jenny was deeply anchored in her neighborhood and church and had more current friends than most of us acquire in a lifetime.  She had helped many people over the years.  Therefore, when Jenny needed help herself, these neighbors, fellow parishioners, and friends made themselves available to her, for example, installing an outside lift, transporting her to doctor’s appointments, and grocery shopping.  They also kept an “eye out” for her, assuring that no one harm Jenny or take her money or property.  That included service providers coming into her home, of which there were many over time, from physical therapists to home care aides.

Jenny possessed four qualities that helped her live at home alone, thrive despite disability, and remain abuse-free.  These protective factors served to deter institutionalization, promote social connectivity, and preserve safety and well-being.

Second, Jenny was a planner by nature.  I don’t know if she was a Scout growing up, but certainly the motto “Be prepared” characterized her.  Being independent and staying in her own home meant everything to Jenny.  Therefore, she kept updated on documents, ranging from wills to durable powers of attorney for health care.  She started paying into long-term care insurance before it was widely recommended.  She made the house handicap accessible before changes were needed and directed the disposal of her possessions well before actual death.  She even created lists of who to contact under what circumstances, distributing them among those closest to her.

Third, Jenny possessed a genuine sense of gratitude.  She was truly thankful for even the smallest helpful gesture, and readily made that known.  I believe that there’s something contagious about gratitude.  Once released, it tends to affect others in ways that make them more likely to want to help again and again and again.  This was no less true for her neighbors and friends than formal service providers.  I remember talking to the owner of the home care agency that Jenny used, a colleague of mine, in tears after Jenny’s death, telling me how special she was, and how she always managed to communicate problems in a way to avoid blame and accusation. ​

 I believe that there’s something contagious about gratitude.  Once released, it tends to affect others in ways that make them more likely to want to help again and again and again.

Finally, Jenny was an advocate.  Her career as a social worker centered on families and children, but her advocacy showed no bounds.  She knew community services and public benefits, and could effectively navigate bureaucracies and across professional disciplines for anyone who requested that.  Not everyone can make the leap from being an advocate for others in need to being an advocate for oneself if in need, but Jenny could and did.  When she required a specialized physician, elder law attorney, or whatever, she knew who to call (or knew who to ask to find out), and if things didn’t work out as expected, she also knew how to make things better. 
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Preventing elder abuse is not just a matter of creating effective access and supportive services and informed and skilled professionals.  These are essential, and advocacy is needed to foster both interest and funding for further program development, testing, and adaptation as well as professional education and training.  Preventing elder abuse also is not just a societal and community concern and activity, although it is that in order to promote our long-held principles of human rights and social justice.  Preventing elder abuse is a responsibility of each of us, for ourselves and for others in our social circles.  Jenny understood this, and lived her life accordingly.  The Elder Justice Roadmap, the nation’s strategic plan for addressing elder abuse, concludes with a statement that reflects this knowledge, “There is a role for everyone.” ​

Author

Georgia J. Anetzberger, PhD, ACSW, shown here with Siren on the day Siren was adopted as a rescue dog.

Georgia Anetzberger, currently a consultant in private practice, has been active in the field of elder abuse for over forty years as a practitioner, planner, administrator, researcher, and educator. She is Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Medicine and Adjunct Faculty in the Mandel School of Applied Social Sciences at Case Western Reserve University, and Fellow in the Gerontological Society of America. For more, see Georgia Anetzberger.