Sensuous ‘lolo,’ ‘lola’
Caught you, there. I’m sure some of you were thinking “sensual” which almost seems like a contradiction in terms. Sensual is sexual and, well, senior citizens aren’t supposed to be sexual, especially lolas, a prejudice which I will challenge one of these days.
What I want to write about is the sensuous senior, coming out of people who have asked me to write about my experiences in caring for elderly parents who turn 97 and 93 this year, and dealing with a host of other elderly relatives and friends, some of whom I’m missing as I write and recall happy memories.
Sensuous memories. Sensuous means strong involvement of our senses, five or, maybe, six, some will argue. As our elderly age, their (oops, I should say “our” since I’m also a senior citizen) homes fill up with spectacles, hearing aids, walking canes, walkers. We assume there’s nothing major we can do about losing those senses except perhaps for cataract surgery.
We also don’t link up the sensory losses with other problems that plague the aged: depression, aggression, mood swings. . . and despair. Instead, we look for medical solutions, mainly medicines.
As the field of geriatrics progresses, research is showing that the deterioration of senses is not irreversible and the best way of dealing with the losses is, almost paradoxically, to stimulate those senses.
Trickster brains
Underlying all that research is a basic fact: ultimately, it’s the brain that sees, hears, smells, tastes and touches (okay, throw in the “6th sense,” it’s still the brain). The eyes, for example, are useless if there’s damage to a whole elaborate system of rods and cones and the optic nerve and the brain.
That brain is mischievous, too—always playing tricks on us so we think we see something that isn’t there and, conversely, we don’t see something that is visible.
With age, the sensory “equipment” does wear down, aggravated by the brain slowing down as well. Since the senses are our portals to the world, it’s not surprising that the elderly begin to feel frustration and depression. They ask you to talk more loudly, or complain you’re shouting at them. They complain endlessly about the food not tasting good. And why is the room always so dark (or always so bright)?
Vicious cycles are created here as the sensory-impaired elderly withdraw into their homes out of a mélange of feelings: frustration, fear, even anger. Sometimes the family caring for them are to blame as well. Worried that lolo or lola will get into trouble because of failing vision or hearing, they end up sequestering elderly relatives, limiting them to their rooms, with caregivers functioning as guards to make sure they don’t “escape.”
The isolation further aggravates the sensory impairment. Repressive governments have long known this, keeping prisoners in solitary confinement to break them down in ways worse than physical torture. Soon the prisoners begin to have hallucinations, turning paranoid and losing any hope in the world.
I am not being dramatic when I say our elderly are sometimes put in solitary confinement. It may be an airconditioned room, with 24/7 caregivers, but if all the caregivers do is to feed, bath and clean them, administer medicines and turn the patient from one side to another, the elderly are still relatively sensory deprived.
We can learn from survivors of harsh prisons, usually political prisoners who were not necessarily the most physically tough. These were the ones with the will to live and fight, and who learned, even without training in psychology, to tame their senses by training their brains.
Reconditioning
That is what sensuousness is all about. I’ll be using the term sensory reconditioning because we—relatives, caregivers and senior citizens—have to challenge many presumptions about those senses (e.g., that deterioration is irreversible), which include social and cultural presumptions (naku, they want to be alone or. . . might get too excited and get a heart attack).
We need to get our elderly to become sensuous, maybe even exceeding levels when they were younger. Many cultures actually frown on sensuousness, perhaps because it’s linked to sensuality and sexuality. We will need to teach ourselves, and the next generation, that sensuousness is not only fine, but essential to life.
I could write a whole book about this, but I will limit myself to some examples for a more sensuous lolo and lola and how this can regenerate them, keep them living longer—and by living, I mean really living and not just surviving or vegetating.
Much of what I’ll write about comes from my experiences, but I’m also bringing in sound advice from my parents’ geriatricians, Dr. Jackie Dominguez, and her team at St. Luke’s Memory Clinic. (Sorry for the plug, but I do this also as a bragging right, Jackie being an MD who went on to get an MA in anthropology.)
I’ve also been encouraged, and fascinated, by the research literature that’s coming out, growing in volume each year to support the thesis that a sensuous senior is a healthier senior. What I do find missing is information for Filipinos, considering our culture and social arrangements, so this column is, I hope, a first step toward applying the research in our own contexts.
There are limitations, of course, to this sensuousness reconditioning, depending on how impaired the senses are, the types of physical ailments that are present, and even variations in personality. But even in the most difficult of patients, I’ve seen glimpses of how even the simplest of sensuousness training can bring results.
Let’s deal first with the visual, to many the most precious of the senses. Again, a reminder: It’s the brain that sees. I’ve mentioned, too, how the brain plays tricks on us, and that this happens more often as we age. A simple example: Lola might not be able to find her glasses not just because her vision is failing but because the glasses are on a bed with dark bed coverings in a dark corner of the room. Or on a dark colored table. We inadvertently help our trickster brains, but can reverse that. Stick something bright on their dark black or dark brown wallets. Use large, brightly colored keychains, maybe with bells. With glasses, get frames that are brightly colored and attach accessories like a necklace, which makes the glasses more visible, wherever they may be.
Be aware of the camouflage effect. If your bedcovers are light colored, then it’s easier to miss light colored glasses or wallets and other objects.
There’s more on sight, and on the other senses, and on Friday I’ll give more examples.
