Chapter 10. The dementia therapist
a good enough mother?
We have wondered if the reason for this is actually a hangover from ‘old culture’ attitudes, and old-world emphases on the word and the concept of ‘care’. Nowhere is the term ‘care’ more overworked than in the field of older people and people with dementia. The terms dementia care and dementia carer are common currency, as are elderly care, home care, respite care, day care, carers’ support, etc., etc. And there is of course nothing inherently wrong in the use of these terms. It is not until we understand the term in contrast to the term ‘therapy’ that a question mark appears. For we don’t have elderly therapy or home therapy or day therapy; neither do we have occupational care or speech care or psycho-care. Why not? Well, it all seems to hinge on a concept of potential for change. Generally speaking carers care, with no anticipation of response or change on the part of the one cared for. Care is, effectively, one-sided – a ‘doing-to’. Therapists care, on the other hand, with every expectation of change in the one cared for. Therapy is reciprocal – a ‘working-with’. Care ministers, and expects nothing of the cared-for. Therapy demands, and expects much of the cared-for. Therapy does not accept the status quo. Therapists work with a person towards change, improvement, growth, adaptation – and herein lies the difference.
Traditionally, the common view of infirmity in old age, and of dementia particularly, has been nihilistic and hopeless. It’s the end of the road, the inexorable descent, the inevitable deterioration and demise. This was the old culture of understanding around late life and disorders of late life. Change, growth and adaptation were not expected; all that was required as infirmity took over was a ‘doing-to’, until the end. This of course is no longer a universally held view; the new culture of understanding has served to issue a major challenge to such a stagnant negativism, and it would probably be true to say that the prevailing view today is hopeful rather than hopeless, positive rather than negative, constructive rather than static.
Building then on this comparatively recent cultural shift, we would want to add a further challenge: that we actively embrace the terms ‘dementia therapy’ and ‘dementia therapist’, and if not the terms, at least the concepts. For there is a movement, a reciprocity, a dynamic about therapy that is lacking in care, and as the culture continues to evolve, it is movement and change which are going to take us forward.
What would be the role of a dementia therapist, and who would take such a title? Well, it is conceivable that anyone who has a sustained and direct involvement with a person with dementia could take such a title. We ourselves could probably legitimately take the title, for all of our work revolves around people with dementia. But then we would perhaps lose something of our specialism (or there would be a perceived loss from outside the field), for we are first and foremost occupational therapists; occupation is our contribution and complements that of other disciplines. The RMN or the social worker who manages a residential establishment would probably also want to retain their own distinctive title and specialism.
We have wondered if maybe this is a role and a title for those whom we currently most commonly call care assistants. Now we know of course that of the many thousands of people who hold that title across the country, a good proportion do just that – assist with care. But we know, too, that there is also a good proportion who do considerably more than just assist with care. We all know those who genuinely love and give of themselves in the service of those for whom they have responsibility – people who make mistakes to be sure (don’t we all?), but people who thirst for knowledge, who avail themselves of every possible opportunity for training, and who turn a job into a vocation. And most of us in the professions feel distinctly embarrassed that this army of skilled and devoted people should not attract a title, status and salary commensurate with their abilities and the quality of their service. We believe that this undervalued and underpaid group are worthy of recognition, and have wondered if a new role of dementia therapist might redress the balance.
What shape would such a role take, and what skills would it require? In order to explore this a little further, we return to the work of Donald Winnicott – this time to his concept of the ‘good-enough mother’ (1968). This is a model for childhood wellbeing certainly, but one that has a distinct application to dementia care also.
We have discussed in Chapter 4 the notion of mothering as an important concept for dementia, particularly late stage dementia, and we want to expand upon that a little. We need first perhaps to reiterate that we use the terms ‘mothering’ and ‘good-enough mother’ to imply a style of approach rather than gender. As far as we are concerned, gender is not at issue here, though one might argue as to why we are therefore using a gender-laden term. The simple answer is because we find it helpful and challenging, and the one that best illuminates the potential of the dementia therapist role. There are those (Schaffer 1977) who believe that mother may be a person of either sex, that attachment, bonding and satisfactory child-rearing may be accomplished by any unrelated adult taking over a parental role, and is a matter of personality, not of biology. To some degree we go along with that; certainly empirical evidence seems to bear this out (Anderson et al., 1981 and Phillips et al., 1987). Nevertheless we also incline to the Winnicottian view of mixed male and female elements in either sex, and different qualities to the male and female elements: pure female elements relating to ‘being’ and pure male elements relating to ‘doing’ – a view later supported by Lamb (1981). Our position (before we go on to define mothering a little more carefully) is that both men and women are capable of mothering, but that because of a weighting of female elements in women, those who are most likely to mother, and to mother well, will be women. The far greater proportion of female staff to male in most care settings would appear to support this idea.
So what do we mean by good-enough mothering?Phillips’ commentary on Winnicott (1988) puts it into a nutshell for us. The task of the good-enough mother is to present the world to the infant in manageable doses. And the task of those who are in a position of helping mothers and infants is to protect this process. Let us look at those two statements separately, and in the light of dementia.
A good-enough mother presents the world to the infant in manageable doses. Winnicott’s perception of the neonatal infant is that he is unable to perceive himself in any way distinct from his mother; he is merged with, one and the same. He is in a state of absolute dependence, with no means of control, and no way of knowing the quality of care he is receiving except insofar as he gains profit or suffers disturbance from it. He is, in this phase, in a condition of unintegration, or unconnected feeling states. Mother’s task here is a holding task: that is, a repetitive handling, keeping warm, bathing, rocking, nursing, naming, which has the effect over time of gathering together all those disparate feelings and impressions into a unified whole. Only in holding is there safety and security.
‘It is especially at the start that mothers are vitally important, and indeed it is a mother’s job to protect her infant from complications that cannot yet be understood by the infant, and to go on steadily providing the simplified bit of the world which the infant, through her, comes to know … Only on a basis of monotony can a mother profitably add richness.’ (Winnicott 1945)
If the holding has been adequate and consistent, in due course the child begins to separate the ‘not-me’ from the ‘me’, and gradually to relinquish mother en route towards independence. But he still needs mother to have charge over the presentation of the small doses: